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Anyhow we never know where we must go, nor what guides we are to get - -people,storms, guardian angels, or sheep.

John Muir

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John Muir
Age: 76 †
Born: 1838
Born: April 21
Died: 1914
Died: December 24
Author
Autobiographer
Botanist
Conservationist
Ecologist
Engineer
Essayist
Explorer
Geologist
Glaciologist
Inventor
Mountaineer
Naturalist
J. Muir
Must
Anyhow
Never
Storms
People
Guardian
Sheep
Angels
Guides
Storm
Angel

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Most people who travel look only at what they are directed to look at. Great is the power of the guidebook maker, however ignorant.
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Nature had gathered her choicest treasures , to draw her lovers into close and confiding communion with her
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When we try to pick out anything by itself we find it hitched to everything else in the universe ... The whole wilderness is unity and interrelation, is alive and familiar, full of humanity. The very stones seem talkative, sympathetic, brotherly.
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Raindrops blossom brilliantly in the rainbow, and change to flowers in the sod, but snow comes in full flower direct from the dark, frozen sky.
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How infinitely superior to our physical senses are those of the mind!
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The power of imagination makes us infinite.
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I have enjoyed the trees & scenery of KY exceedingly. How shall I ever tell of the miles & miles of beauty that have been flowing into me in such measure?
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A little pure wildness is the one great present want, both of men and sheep.
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Divine love is the sublime boss of the universe.
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How narrow we selfish conceited creatures are in our sympathies! How blind to the rights of all the rest of creation!
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One can make a day of any size and regulate the rising and setting of his own sun and the brightness of its shining.
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We all flow from one fountain- Soul. All are expressions of one love.
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Strange the faithless fuss made about taking a walk in the safest and pleasantest of all places, a wilderness.
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The moon is looking down into the canyon, and how marvelously the great rocks kindle to her light! Every dome, and brow, and swelling boss touched by her white rays, glows as if lighted with snow.
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Wilderness is a necessity... there must be places for human beings to satisfy their souls.
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Quench love, and what is left of a man's life but the folding of a few jointed bones and square inches of flesh? Who would call that life?
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It is a vast wilderness of rocks in a sea of light, colored and glowing like oak and maple in autumn, when the sun gold is richest
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John Muir, Earth-planet, Universe.
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I am losing precious days. I am degenerating into a machine for making money. I am learning nothing in this trivial world of men. I must break away and get out into the mountains to learn the news
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I wish I knew where I was going. Doomed to be carried of the spirit into the wilderness, I suppose. I wish I could be more moderate in my desires, but I cannot, and so there is no rest.
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