It occurred to me that if this were a sight that could be seen only once in a century, this read more

It occurred to me that if this were a sight that could be seen only once in a century, this little headland would be thronged with spectators.

We need to find God, and he cannot be found in noise and restlessness. God is the friend of silence. read more

We need to find God, and he cannot be found in noise and restlessness. God is the friend of silence. See how nature - trees, flowers, grass- grows in silence; see the stars, the moon and the sun, how they move in silence... We need silence to be able to touch souls.

Nature is too thin a screen; the glory of the omnipresent God bursts through everywhere

Nature is too thin a screen; the glory of the omnipresent God bursts through everywhere

Nature is a good name for an effect whose cause is God.

Nature is a good name for an effect whose cause is God.

We could have saved the Earth but we were too damned cheap.

We could have saved the Earth but we were too damned cheap.

The landscape should belong to the people who see it all the time.

The landscape should belong to the people who see it all the time.

Will urban sprawl spread so far that most people lose all touch with nature? Will the day come when the read more

Will urban sprawl spread so far that most people lose all touch with nature? Will the day come when the only bird a typical American child ever sees is a canary in a pet shop window? When the only wild animal he knows is a rat - glimpsed on a night drive through some city slum? When the only tree he touches is the cleverly fabricated plastic evergreen that shades his gifts on Christmas morning?

One of the most tragic things I know about human nature is that all of us tend to put off read more

One of the most tragic things I know about human nature is that all of us tend to put off living. We are all dreaming of some magical rose garden over the horizon instead of enjoying the roses that are blooming outside our windows today.

At the close of the day, when the hamlet is still
And mortals the sweets of forgetfulness prove,
read more

At the close of the day, when the hamlet is still
And mortals the sweets of forgetfulness prove,
When nought but the torrent is heard on the hill
And nought but the nightingale's song in the grove.