Quote

What a psalm the storm was singing, and how fresh the smell of the washed earth and leaves, and how sweet the still small voices of the storm!

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
Voice
Voices
Stills
Fresh
Earth
Storm
Still
Leaves
Smell
Singing
Psalm
Sweet
Psalms
Small
Washed

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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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Of all the paths you take in life, make sure a few of them are dirt.
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Few are altogether deaf to the preaching of pine trees. Their sermons on the mountains go to our hearts and if people in general could be got into the woods, even for once, to hear the trees speak for themselves, all difficulties in the way of forest preservation would vanish.
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I never saw a discontented tree.
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A lifetime is so little a time that we die before we get ready to live. I should like to study at a college, but then I have to say to myself: You will die before you can do anything else.
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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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The world, we are told, was made especially for man - a presumption not supported by all the facts... Why should man value himself as more than a small part of the one great unit of creation?
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So extraordinary is Nature with her choicest treasures, spending plant beauty as she spends sunshine, pouring it forth into land and sea, garden and desert. And so the beauty of lilies falls on angels and men, bears and squirrels, wolves and sheep, birds and bees.
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Government protection should be thrown around every wild grove and forest on the mountains, as it is around every private orchard, and the trees in public parks. To say nothing of their value as fountains of timber, they are worth infinitely more than all the gardens and parks of towns.
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Come to the woods, for here is rest.
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I always enjoyed the hearty society of a snowstorm.
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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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I've had a great time in South America and South Africa. Indeed it now seems that on this pair of wild hot continents I've enjoyed the most fruitful year of my life.
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Every hidden cell is throbbing with music and life, every fiber thrilling like harp strings.
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Nature in her green, tranquil woods heals and soothes all afflictions.
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No temple made with hands can compare with Yosemite.
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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.
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The blessings of one mountain day, whatever his fate, long life, short life, stormy or calm, he is rich forever.
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John Muir, Earth-planet, Universe.
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Few places in this world are more dangerous than home. Fear not, therefore, to try the mountain passes. They will kill care, save you from deadly apathy, set you free, and call forth every faculty into vigorous, enthusiastic action.
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