There Are No Accidents In Nature.

Going To The Woods Is Going Home, For I Suppose We Came From The Woods Originally.

A Few Minutes Ago Every Tree Was Excited, Bowing To The Roaring Storm, Waving, Swirling, Tossing Their Branches In Glorious Enthusiasm Like Worship. But Though To The Outer Ear These Trees Are Now Silent, Their Songs Never Cease.

The Gross Heathenism Of Civilization Has Generally Destroyed Nature, And Poetry, And All That Is Spiritual.

How Glorious A Greeting The Sun Gives The Mountains!

John Muir, Earth-planet, Universe.