Spring is when you feel like whistling even with a shoe full of slush.

Let the gentle bush dig its root deep and spread upward to split the boulder.

Love thou the rose, yet leave it on its stem.

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

Hope is the only bee that makes honey without flowers.

A woodland in full color is awesome as a forest fire, in magnitude at least, but a single tree is like a dancing tongue of flame to warm the heart.

I knew, of course, that trees and plants had roots, stems, bark, branches and foliage that reached up toward the light. But I was coming to realize that the real magician was light itself.

I never saw a discontented tree. They grip the ground as though they liked it, and though fast rooted they travel about as far as we do.

Like music and art, love of nature is a common language that can transcend political or social boundaries.

And the heart that is soonest awake to the flowers is always the first to be touch'd by the thorns.