There is no forgiveness in nature.

Understanding the laws of nature does not mean that we are immune to their operations.

To cherish what remains of the Earth and to foster its renewal is our only legitimate hope of survival.

Yosemite Valley, to me, is always a sunrise, a glitter of green and golden wonder in a vast edifice of stone and space.

To be interested in the changing seasons is a happier state of mind than to be hopelessly in love with spring.

Whenever the pressure of our complex city life thins my blood and numbs my brain, I seek relief in the trail; and when I hear the coyote wailing to the yellow dawn, my cares fall from me – I am happy.

Wherever you go, no matter what the weather, always bring your own sunshine.

There’s always a period of curious fear between the first sweet-smelling breeze and the time when the rain comes cracking down.

There is a muscular energy in sunlight corresponding to the spiritual energy of wind.

Those little nimble musicians of the air, that warble forth their curious ditties, with which nature hath furnished them to the shame of art.