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

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Divine love is the sublime boss of the universe.
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Wilderness is a necessity... there must be places for human beings to satisfy their souls.
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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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Man is always and everywhere a blight on the landscape.
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All the world was before me and every day was a holiday, so it did not seem important to which one of the world's wildernesses I first should wander.
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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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Who publishes the sheet-music of the winds or the music of water written in river-lines?
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When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the universe.
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Books are but stepping stones to show you where other minds have been.
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...every sight and sound inspiring, leading one far out of himself, yet feeding and building up his individuality.
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The power of imagination makes us infinite.
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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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Going into the woods, is going home
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Any glimpse into the life of an animal quickens our own and makes it so much the larger and better in every way.
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Yet how hard most people work for mere dust and ashes and care, taking no thought of growing in knowledge and grace, never having time to get in sight of their own ignorance.
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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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Nature had gathered her choicest treasures , to draw her lovers into close and confiding communion with her
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Between every two pines is a doorway to a new world.
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Another glorious Sierra day in which one seems to be dissolved and absorbed and sent pulsing onward we know not where. Life seems neither long nor short, and we take no more heed to save time or make haste than do the trees and stars. This is true freedom, a good practical sort of immortality.
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The tide of visitors will float slowly about the bottom of the valley as harmless scum collecting in hotel and saloon eddies, leaving the rocks and falls eloquent as ever.
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