I Came From A Race Of Fishers;

The Bluebird Enjoys The Preeminence Of Being The First Bit Of Color That Cheers Our Northern Landscape. The Other Birds That Arrive About The Same Time--the Sparrow, The Robin, The Phoebe-bird--are Clad In Neutral Tints, Gray, Brown, Or Russet; But The Bluebird Brings One Of The Primary Hues And The Divinest Of Them All.

The Spirit Of Man Can Endure Only So Much And When It Is Broken Only A Miracle Can Mend It.

One May Summon His Philosophy When They Are Beaten In Battle, Not Till Then.

I Go To Nature To Be Soothed And Healed, And To Have My Senses Put In Order.

The Poor Old Earth Which Has Mothered Us And Nursed Us We Treat With Scant Respect. Our Awe And Veneration We Reserve For The Worlds We Know Not Of. Our Senses Sell Us Out. The Mud On Our Shoes Disenchants Us.