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I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey work of the stars.
The exact sciences also start from the assumption that in the end it will always be possible to understand nature, even in every new field of experience, but that we may make no a prior assumptions about the meaning of the word understand.
How quickly nature falls into revolt, when gold becomes her object!
From our earliest hour we have been taught that the thought of the heart, the shaping of the rain-cloud, the amount of wool that grows on a sheep's back, the length of a drought, and the growing of the corn, depend on nothing that moves immutable, at the heart of all things; but on the changeable will of a changeable being, whom our prayers can alter. To us, from the beginning, Nature has been but a poor plastic thing, to be toyed with this way or that, as man happens to please his deity or not; to go to church or not; to say his prayers right or not; to travel on a Sunday or not. Was it possible for us in an instant to see Nature as she is -- the flowing vestment of an unchanging reality?
Of all the things that oppress me, this sense of the evil working of nature herself -- my disgust at her barbarity -- clumsiness -- darkness -- bitter mockery of herself -- is the most desolating.
Meanings, moods, the whole scale of our inner experience finds in nature the "correspondence" through which we may know our boundless selves.
The person in a hurry usually arrives late.
In nature, there is no such thing as a lawn.
The house roof fights the rain, but the person who is sheltered ignores it.