Really, Trees Are Nearly As Important As

Progress. There's A Good Deal Too Much O' This Progress About Nowadays, An', What's More, It'll Have To Stop.

This Alone Is To Be Feared - The Closed Mind, The Sleeping Imagination, The Death Of The Spirit. The Death Of The Body Is To That, I Think, A Little Thing.

It Is The Brevity Of Life Which Makes It Tolerable; Its Experiences Have Value Because They Have An End.

There's Never Been A Lack Of Men Willing To Die Bravely. The Trouble Is To Find A Few Able To Live Sensibly.

I Find You In All Small And Lovely Things; In The Little Fishes Like Flames In The Green Water, In The Furred And Stupid Softness Of Bumble-bees Fat As Laughter, In All The Chiming Radiance Of Warmth And Light And Scent In The Summer Garden.