O bluebird, welcome back again, Thy azure coat and ruddy vest, Are hues that April loveth best...
Man is, and always has been, a maker of gods. It has been the most serious and significant occupation of his sojourn in the world.
One of the hardest lessons we have to learn in this life, and one that many persons never learn, is to see the divine, the celestial, the pure, in the common, the near at hand-to see that heaven lies about us here in this world.
Every walk to the woods is a religious rite, every bath in the stream is a saving ordinance. Communion service is at all hours, and the bread and wine are from the heart and marrow of Mother Earth.
If we take science as our sole guide, if we accept and hold fast that alone which is verifiable, the old theology must go.
Blessed is the man who has some congenial work, some occupation in which he can put his heart, and which affords a complete outlet to all the forces there are in him.
There is hardly a man on earth who will take advice unless he is certain that it is positively bad.
One may summon his philosophy when they are beaten in battle, not till then.
Some men are like nails, very easily drawn; others however are more like rivets never drawn at all.
I seldom go into a natural history museum without feeling as if I were attending a funeral.
The spirit of man can endure only so much and when it is broken only a miracle can mend it.
In the printed page the only real things are the paper and the ink; the white spaces play the same part in aiding the eye to take in the meaning of the print as do the black letters.
The fuel in the earth will be exhausted in a thousand or more years, and its mineral wealth, but man will find substitutes for these in the winds, the waves, the sun’s heat, and so forth.
To see Earth fully we already need to love it.
Every day is a Sabbath to me. All pure water is holy water, and this earth is a celestial abode.
Before the bud swells, before the grass springs, before the plough is started, comes the sugar harvest. It is sequel of the bitter frost; a sap run is the sweet goodbye of winter.
Temperament lies behind mood; behind will, lies the fate of character. Then behind both, the influence of family the tyranny of culture; and finally the power of climate and environment; and we are free, only to the extent we rise above these.
The floating vapour is just as true an illustration of the law of gravity as the falling avalanche.
In the order of nature we may behold the ways of the Eternal.
The tendinous part of the mind, so to speak, is more developed in winter; the fleshy, in summer. I should say winter had given the bone and sinew to literature, summer the tissues and the blood.
The honey-bee’s great ambition is to be rich, to lay up great stores, to possess the sweet of every flower that blooms. She is more than provident. Enough will not satisfy her, she must have all she can get by hook or crook.