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Any fool can destroy trees, they cannot run away.

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
Tree
Saplings
Running
Redwoods
Away
Primeval
Cannot
Bark
Forests
Trees
Destroy
Fool

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Man is always and everywhere a blight on the landscape.
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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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I always enjoyed the hearty society of a snowstorm.
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When we contemplate the whole globe as one great dewdrop, striped and dotted with continents and islands, flying through space with other stars all singing and shining together as one, the whole universe appears as an infinite storm of beauty.
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There is not a fragment in all nature, for every relative fragment of one thing is a full harmonious unit in itself.
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He had gone to the higher Sierras... [about Ralph Waldo Emerson's death]
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Going to the woods is going home, for I suppose we came from the woods originally.
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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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I know that our bodies were made to thrive only in pure air, and the scenes in which pure air is found.
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One day's exposure to mountains is better than a cartload of books.
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Trees go wandering forth in all directions with every wind, going and coming like ourselves, traveling with us around the sun two million miles a day, and through space heaven knows how fast and far!
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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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The bat­tle we have fought, and are still fight­ing for the forests is a part of the eter­nal con­flict between right and wrong, and we can­not expect to see the end of it. …So we must count on watch­ing and striv­ing for these trees, and should always be glad to find any­thing so surely good and noble to strive for.
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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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Eternal sunrise, eternal sunset, eternal dawn and gloaming, on seas and continents and islands, each in its turn, as the round earth rolls.
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Come to the woods, for here is rest.
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Writing is like the life of a glacier one eternal grind.
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...Good luck and Good work for the happy mountain raindrops, each one of them a high waterfall in itself, descending from the cliffs and hollows of the clouds to the cliffs and hollows of the rocks, out of the sky-thunder into the thunder of the falling rivers.
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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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I am hopelessly and forever a mountaineer.
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