I still get wildly enthusiastic about little things… I play with leaves. I skip down the street and run against the wind.
Having plants and flowers in my space makes me feel very calm and Zen. For me, it’s important to meditate every morning to be very clear in the head, and nature really helps me do the same thing.
What’s a butterfly garden without butterflies?
Reading about nature is fine, but if a person walks in the woods and listens carefully, he can learn more than what is in books, for they speak with the voice of God.
As the twig is bent the tree inclines.
The day of the sun is like the day of a king. It is a promenade in the morning, a sitting on the throne at noon, a pageant in the evening.
This magnificent butterfly finds a little heap of dirt and sits still on it; but man will never on his heap of mud keep still.
To the artist there is never anything ugly in nature.
In some mysterious way woods have never seemed to me to be static things. In physical terms, I move through them; yet in metaphysical ones, they seem to move through me.
When nature has work to be done, she creates a genius to do it.
I am following Nature without being able to grasp her, I perhaps owe having become a painter to flowers.
The moment a little boy is concerned with which is a jay and which is a sparrow, he can no longer see the birds or hear them sing.
Fishes live in the sea, as men do a-land; the great ones eat up the little ones.
The temple bell stops but I still hear the sound coming out of the flowers.
Life has loveliness to sell, all beautiful and splendid things, blue waves whitened on a cliff, soaring fire that sways and sings, and children’s faces looking up, holding wonder like a cup.
I would feel more optimistic about a bright future for man if he spent less time proving that he can outwit Nature and more time tasting her sweetness and respecting her seniority.
Though pleas’d to see the dolphins play, I mind my compass and my way.
Nature is the master of talents; genius is the master of nature.
It is written on the arched sky; it looks out from every star. It is the poetry of Nature; it is that which uplifts the spirit within us.
The Amen of nature is always a flower.
To me a lush carpet of pine needles or spongy grass is more welcome than the most luxurious Persian rug.
If I had to choose a religion, the sun as the universal giver of life would be my god.
Giant oak trees… have deep root systems that can extend two-and-one-half times their height. Such trees rarely are blown down regardless of how violent the storms may be.
Clouds symbolize the veils that shroud God.
Birds have wings; they’re free; they can fly where they want when they want. They have the kind of mobility many people envy.
