Nature has no mercy at all. Nature says, ”I’m going to snow. If you have on a bikini and no snowshoes, that’s tough. I am going to snow anyway.”
Like Confucius of old, I am so absorbed in the wonder of the earth and the life upon it, that I cannot think of heaven and the angels.
That man’s best works should be such bungling imitations of Nature’s infinite perfection, matters not much; but that he should make himself an imitation, this is the fact which Nature moans over, and deprecates beseechingly. Be spontaneous, be truthful, be free, and thus be individuals! is the song she sings through warbling birds, and whispering pines, and roaring waves, and screeching winds.
The best remedy for those who are afraid, lonely or unhappy is to go outside, somewhere where they can be quiet, alone with the heavens, nature and God. Because only then does one feel that all is as it should be and that God wishes to see people happy, amidst the simple beauty of nature. As long as this exists, and it certainly always will, I know that then there will always be comfort for every sorrow, whatever the circumstances may be. And I firmly believe that nature brings solace in all troubles.
Meanings, moods, the whole scale of our inner experience finds in nature the ”correspondence” through which we may know our boundless selves.
Nature in America has always been suspect, on the defensive, cannibalized by progress. In America, every specimen becomes a relic.
Nature provides exceptions to every rule.
I know there is strength in the differences between us. I know there is comfort where we overlap.