Autumn leaves don’t fall; they fly. They take their time and wander on this, their only chance to soar.
As long as I retain my feeling and my passion for Nature, I can partly soften or subdue my other passions and resist or endure those of others.
And out of darkness came the hands that reach thro’ nature, moulding men.
All my life through, the new sights of Nature made me rejoice like a child.
Alas! how little does the memory of these human inhabitants enhance the beauty of the landscape!
After you have exhausted what there is in business, politics, conviviality, love, and so on – have found that none of these finally satisfy, or permanently wear – what remains? Nature remains.
A thing is right when it tends to preserve the integrity, stability and beauty of the biotic community. It is wrong when it tends otherwise.
A really well-made buttonhole is the only link between Art and Nature.
A love of nature keeps no factories busy.
