Who wouldn't be a mountaineer! Up here all the world's prizes seem nothing.
Our good ship also seemed like a thing of life, its great iron heart beating on through calm and storm, a truly noble spectacle. But think of the hearts of these whales, beating warm against the sea, day and night, through dark and light, on and on for centuries; how the red blood must rush and gurgle in and out, bucketfuls, barrelfuls at a beat!
How narrow we selfish conceited creatures are in our sympathies! How blind to the rights of all the rest of creation!
Every natural object is a conductor of divinity and only by coming into contact with them... may we be filled with the Holy Ghost.
A few minutes ago every tree was excited, bowing to the roaring storm, waving, swirling, tossing their branches in glorious enthusiasm like worship. But though to the outer ear these trees are now silent, their songs never cease.
When one tugs at a single thing in nature, he finds it attached to the rest of the world.
Most people are on the world, not in it.
When California was wild, it was the floweriest part of the continent.
Of all the mountain ranges I have climbed, I like the Sierra Nevada the best.
I never saw a discontented tree.
Nature's sublime wonderlands, the admiration and joy of the world.
I cut off some of their flat, spicy plumes for a bed, gathered a store of wood, and made a cordial fire, and was at home in this vast unhandselled Yosemite.
As for the Mormons one meets, however their doctrines be regarded, they will be found as rich in human kindness as any people in all our broad land, while the dark memories that cloud their earlier history will vanish from the mind as completely as when we bathe in the fountain azure of the Sierra.
Why should man value himself as more than a small part of the one great unit of creation? And what creature of all that the Lord has taken the pains to make is not essential to the completeness of that unit — the cosmos?
The gross heathenism of civilization has generally destroyed nature, and poetry, and all that is spiritual.
I am losing precious days. I am degenerating into a machine for making money. I am learning nothing in this trivial world of men. I must break away and get out into the mountains to learn the news.
Sequoia seeds have flat wings, and glint and glance in their flight like a boy's kite.
Even the sick should try these so-called dangerous passes, because for every unfortunate they kill, they cure a thousand.
Wherever we go in the mountains, or indeed in any of God's wild fields, we find more than we seek.
I care to live only to entice people to look at Nature's loveliness. Heaven knows that John the Baptist was not more eager to get all his fellow sinners into the Jordan than I to baptize all of mine in the beauty of God's mountains.
I never saw a discontented tree. They grip the ground as though they liked it, and though fast rooted they travel about as far as we do. They 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!