I've made an odd discovery. Every time I talk to a savant I feel quite sure that happiness is no read more

I've made an odd discovery. Every time I talk to a savant I feel quite sure that happiness is no longer a possibility. Yet when I talk with my gardener, I'm convinced of the opposite.

Birds sing after a storm; why shouldn't people feel as free to delight in whatever remains to them?

Birds sing after a storm; why shouldn't people feel as free to delight in whatever remains to them?

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.

A garden requires patient labor and attention. Plants do not grow merely to satisfy ambitions or to fulfill good intentions. read more

A garden requires patient labor and attention. Plants do not grow merely to satisfy ambitions or to fulfill good intentions. They thrive because someone expended effort on them.rn

Not without art, but yet to Nature true.

Not without art, but yet to Nature true.

In some mysterious way woods have never seemed to me to be static things. In physical terms, I move through read more

In some mysterious way woods have never seemed to me to be static things. In physical terms, I move through them; yet in metaphysical ones, they seem to move through me.

Never measure the height of a mountain until you have reached the top. Then you will see how low it read more

Never measure the height of a mountain until you have reached the top. Then you will see how low it was.

The magnificence of mountains, the serenity of nature - nothing is safe from the idiot marks of man's passing.

The magnificence of mountains, the serenity of nature - nothing is safe from the idiot marks of man's passing.

That man's best works should be such bungling imitations of Nature's infinite perfection, matters not much; but that he should read more

That man's best works should be such bungling imitations of Nature's infinite perfection, matters not much; but that he should make himself an imitation, this is the fact which Nature moans over, and deprecates beseechingly. Be spontaneous, be truthful, be free, and thus be individuals! is the song she sings through warbling birds, and whispering pines, and roaring waves, and screeching winds.