All Trembling, I Reached The Falls Of

The Fact Is I Am Growing Old Too Fast, Alas! I Feel It, And Yet Work I Will, And May God Grant Me Life To See The Last Plate Of My Mammoth Work Finished.

There Is The Morass, Wherein You Plunge Up To Your Knees, Or The Walking Over The Stubborn, Dwarfish Shrubbery, Whereby One Treads Down The Forests Of Labrador; And The Unexpected Bunting Or Sylvia Which Perchance, And Indeed As If By Chance Alone, You Now And Then See Flying Before You, Or Hear Singing From The Ground Creeping Plant.

Never Give Up Listening To The Sounds Of Birds.

If Only The Bird With The Loveliest Song Sang, The Forest Would Be A Lonely Place.

As I Grew Up I Was Fervently Desirous Of Becoming Acquainted With Nature.