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! — John Muir Copy Share Image
I will follow my instincts, be myself for good or ill, and see what will be the upshot. — John Muir Copy Share Image
During my first years in the Sierra, I was ever calling on everybody within reach to admire them, but I found no one half… — John Muir Copy Share Image
...full of God's thoughts, a place of peace and safety amid the most exalted grandeur and enthusiastic action, a new song, a place of… — John Muir Copy Share Image
“Here are the roots of all the life of the valleys, and here more simply than elsewhere is the eternal flux of nature manifested.” — John Muir Copy Share Image
Another glorious day, the air as delicious to the lungs as nectar to the tongue. — John Muir Copy Share Image
Long, blue, spiky-edged shadows crept out across the snow-fields, while a rosy glow, at first scarce discernible, gradually deepened and suffused every mountain-top, flushing… — John Muir Copy Share Image
“This grand show is eternal. It is always sunrise somewhere; the dew is never all dried at once; a shower is forever falling; vapor… — John Muir Copy Share Image
When one tugs at a single thing in nature, he finds it attached to the rest of the world. — John Muir Copy Share Image
In studying the fate of our forest king, we have thus far considered the action of purely natural causes only; but, unfortunately, man is… — John Muir Copy Share Image
