Happiness Is Itself A Kind Of Gratitude.

We Need Some Contact With The Things We Sprang From. We Need Nature At Least As A Part Of The Context Of Our Lives. Without Cities We Cannot Be Civilized. Without Nature, Without Wilderness Even, We Are Compelled To Renounce An Important Part Of Our Heritage.

It Is Not A Sentimental, But A Grimly Literal Fact That Unless We Share This Terrestrial Globe With Creatures Other Than Ourselves, We Shall Not Be Able To Live On It For Long.

Logic Is The Art Of Going Wrong With Confidence.

The Most Serious Charge Which Can Be Brought Against New England Is Not Puritanism, But February.... Spring Is Too Far Away To Comfort Even By Anticipation, And Winter Long Ago Lost The Charm Of Novelty. This Is The Very Three A.m. Of The Calendar.

February... Now More Than Ever One Must Remind Oneself That It Is Wasteful Folly To Wish That Time Would Pass, Or - As The Puritanical Old Saying Used To Have It - To Kill Time Until It Kills You.