We talk of our mastery of nature, which sounds very grand but the fact is we respectfully adapt ourselves, first, to her ways.

I think that I shall never see a poem lovely as a tree.

It was one of those perfect English autumnal days which occur more frequently in memory than in life.

My recollection of a hundred lovely lakes has given me blessed release from care and worry and the troubled thinking of our modern day. It has been a return to the primitive and the peaceful.

Maybe nature is fundamentally ugly, chaotic and complicated. But if it's like that, then I want out.