No winter lasts forever; no spring skips its turn.
Knowing trees, I understand the meaning of patience. Knowing grass, I can appreciate persistence.
A snowdrift is a beautiful thing-if it doesn’t lie across the path you have to shovel or block the road that leads to your destination.
Year’s end is neither an end nor a beginning but a going on, with all the wisdom that experience can instill in us.
Man is not an aquatic animal, but from the time we stand in youthful wonder beside a Spring brook till we sit in old age and watch the endless roll of the sea, we feel a strong kinship with the waters of this world.
If you would know strength and patience, welcome the company of trees.
No Winter lasts forever, no Spring skips its turn. April is a promise that May is bound to keep, and we know it.
April is a promise that May is bound to keep.
There is a leisure about walking, no matter what pace you set, that lets down the tension.
Listen to it, and you are hearing the mighty currents of the air rushing down the latitudes of the earth, currents from the Mackenzie and the Athabasca and the Saskatchewan, and from the prairies and the white Tundra. It is a homeless wind, forever on the move.
To see a hillside white with dogwood bloom is to know a particular ecstasy of beauty, but to walk the gray Winter woods and find the buds which will resurrect that beauty in another May is to partake of continuity.