There is nothing in which the birds differ more from man than the way in which they can build and yet leave a landscape as it was before.

What makes a river so restful to people is that it doesn't have any doubt - it is sure to get where it is going, and it doesn't want to go anywhere else.

The very winds whispered in soothing accents, and maternal Nature bade me weep no more.

Bats drink on the wing, like swallows, by sipping the surface, as they play over pools and streams.

Having contemplated this admirable grove, I proceeded towards the shrubberies on the banks of the river, and though it was now late in December, the aromatic groves appeared in full bloom.

My progress was rendered delightful by the sylvan elegance of the groves, chearful meadows, and high distant forests, which in grand order presented themselves to view.

When I see a bird that walks like a duck and swims like a duck and quacks like a duck, I call that bird a duck.

The groves were God's first temples.

The moment a little boy is concerned with which is a jay and which is a sparrow, he can no longer see the birds or hear them sing.

Whenever the pressure of our complex city life thins my blood and numbs my brain, I seek relief in the trail and when I hear the coyote wailing to the yellow dawn, my cares fall from me - I am happy.