Quote

The substance of the winds is too thin for human eyes, their written language is too difficult for human minds, and their spoken language mostly too faint for the ears.

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
Eyes
Mostly
Stars
Substance
Eye
Clouds
Language
Ears
Difficult
Minds
Faint
Human
Air
Winds
Humans
Wind
Spoken
Mind
Written
Thin

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God never made an ugly landscape. All that sun shines on is beautiful, so long as it is wild.
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In the beauty and grandeur of individual trees, and in number and variety of species, the Sierra forests surpass all others
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Keep close to Nature's heart... and break clear away, once in awhile, and climb a mountain or spend a week in the woods. Wash your spirit clean.
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Imagination is usually regarded as a synonym for the unreal. Yet is true imagination healthful and real, no more likely to mislead than the coarse senses. Indeed, the power of imagination makes us infinite.
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One may as well dam for water tanks the people's cathedrals and churches, for no holier temple has ever been consecrated by the heart of man.
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How infinitely superior to our physical senses are those of the mind!
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One learns that the world, though made, is yet being made that this is still the morning of creation that mountains long conceived are now being born, channels traced for coming rivers, basins hollowed for lakes.
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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!
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These beautiful days ... do not exist as mere pictures - maps hung upon the walls of memory to brighten at times when touched by association or will ... They saturate themselves into every part of the body and live always.
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Going to the mountains is going home.
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In this silent, serene wilderness the weary can gain a heart-bath in perfect peace.
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I was awakened by a tremendous earthquake, and though I hadn ever before enjoyed a storm of this sort, the strange thrilling motion could not be mistaken, and I ran out of my cabin, both glad and frightened, shouting, A noble earthquake! A noble earthquake feeling sure I was going to learn something.
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Few are altogether deaf to the preaching of pine trees. Their sermons on the mountains go to our hearts . . .
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I wonder if leaves feel lonely when they see their neighbors falling?
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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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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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Writing is like the life of a glacier one eternal grind.
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Man is always and everywhere a blight on the landscape.
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Climb the mountains and get their good tidings.
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Take a course in good water and air and in the eternal youth of Nature you may renew your own. Go quietly, alone no harm will befall you.
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