I imagine that yes is the only living thing.

Begin noticing and being careful about keeping your imagination free of thoughts that you do not wish to materialize. Instead, initiate a practice of filling your creative thoughts to overflow with ideas and wishes that you fully intend to manifest. Honor your imaginings regardless of others seeing them as crazy or impossible.

Don Quixote’s misfortune is not his imagination, but Sancho Panza.

Nature abhors annihilation.

For me, writing has always come out of living a fairly to-the-bone kind of life, just really being present to a lot of life. The writing has been really a byproduct of that.

There are no such things as Flowers there are only gladdened Leaves.

During the second half of the twentieth century, I had the privilege of living through years of intensive erudition, and I realized that Canadians, located in the northernmost region of this hemisphere, were always respectful towards our country.

Nature hates calculators.

I liked to write from the time I was about 12 or 13. I loved to read. And since I only spoke to my brother, I would write down my thoughts. And I think I wrote some of the worst poetry west of the Rockies. But by the time I was in my 20s, I found myself writing little essays and more poetry – writing at writing.

I have seen many storms in my life. Most storms have caught me by surprise, so I had to learn very quickly to look further and understand that I am not capable of controlling the weather, to exercise the art of patience and to respect the fury of nature.

The nose of a mob is its imagination. By this, at any time, it can be quietly led.

My sorrow, when she’s here with me, thinks these dark days of autumn rain are beautiful as days can be; she loves the bare, the withered tree; she walks the sodden pasture lane.

Nature puts no question and answers none which we mortals ask. She has long ago taken her resolution.

The use of travelling is to regulate imagination by reality, and instead of thinking how things may be, to see them as they are.

All are but parts of one stupendous whole, Whose body Nature is, and God the soul.

The educated differ from the uneducated as much as the living from the dead.

Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.

Science fiction is any idea that occurs in the head and doesn’t exist yet, but soon will, and will change everything for everybody, and nothing will ever be the same again. As soon as you have an idea that changes some small part of the world you are writing science fiction. It is always the art of the possible, never the impossible.

Whatsoever is, is in God, and without God nothing can be, or be conceived.

Imagination rules the world.

You can’t depend on your eyes when your imagination is out of focus.

Imagination decides everything.

All nature is but art unknown to thee.

It was the Law of the Sea, they said. Civilization ends at the waterline. Beyond that, we all enter the food chain, and not always right at the top.

I am two with nature.

We are born, so to speak, twice over; born into existence, and born into life; born a human being, and born a man.

Some day science may have the existence of mankind in power, and the human race can commit suicide by blowing up the world.

In the Spring, I have counted 136 different kinds of weather inside of 24 hours.

If we do discover a complete theory, it should be in time understandable in broad principle by everyone. Then we shall all, philosophers, scientists, and just ordinary people be able to take part in the discussion of why we and the universe exist.

Thou know’st the first time that we smell the air we wawl and cry. When we are born we cry, that we are come to this great state of fools.

I read poetry to save time.

Nature cannot be tricked or cheated. She will give up to you the object of your struggles only after you have paid her price.

I think that there is nothing, not even crime, more opposed to poetry, to philosophy, ay, to life itself than this incessant business.

One always dies too soon or too late. And yet, life is there, finished: the line is drawn, and it must all be added up. You are nothing other than your life.

And whether you’re an honest man, or whether you’re a thief, depends on whose solicitor has given me my brief.

Were I called on to define, very briefly, the term Art, I should call it ‚the reproduction of what the Senses perceive in Nature through the veil of the soul.‘ The mere imitation, however accurate, of what is in Nature, entitles no man to the sacred name of ‚Artist.‘

The first man to compare the cheeks of a young woman to a rose was obviously a poet; the first to repeat it was possibly an idiot.

See that the imagination of nature is far, far greater than the imagination of man.

Hence poetry is something more philosophic and of graver import than history, since its statements are rather of the nature of universals, whereas those of history are singulars.

The irrationality of a thing is no argument against its existence, rather a condition of it.

We’re a blip in the existence of the universe, and we’re constantly trying to pull each other down. Not doing things to help each other.

No great artist ever sees things as they really are. If he did, he would cease to be an artist.

How inappropriate to call this planet Earth when it is quite clearly Ocean.

Were it not for imagination a man would be as happy in arms of a chambermaid as of a duchess.

The earth’s crust has not yet stopped heaving and plunging under our feet. Mountain ranges are still being thrust up on the horizon. Granites are still growing under the continental masses. Nor has the organic world ceased to produce new buds at the tips of its countless branches.

I understood at a very early age that in nature, I felt everything I should feel in church but never did. Walking in the woods, I felt in touch with the universe and with the spirit of the universe.

If one way be better than another, that you may be sure is nature’s way.

Only the ideas that we really live have any value.

To see clearly is poetry, prophecy and religion all in one.

If I see a mountain, I just pick up and hike it.

In this constant battle which we call living, we try to set a code of conduct according to the society in which we are brought up, whether it be a Communist society or a so-called free society; we accept a standard of behaviour as part of our tradition as Hindus or Muslims or Christians or whatever we happen to be.

I had the most magical childhood, running free and going anywhere I wanted to in my head.

To me a lush carpet of pine needles or spongy grass is more welcome than the most luxurious Persian rug.

I was enjoying myself writing, because I don’t know what’s going to happen when I take a ride around that corner. You don’t know at all what you’re going to find there. That can be thrilling when you read a book, especially when you’re a kid and you’re reading stories.

Reason has always existed, but not always in a reasonable form.

Unbeing dead isn’t being alive.

I started out in life as a poet; I was only writing poetry all through my 20s. It wasn’t until I was about 30 that I got serious about writing prose. While I was writing poems, I would often divert myself by reading detective novels; I liked them.

How terribly downright must be the utterances of storms and earthquakes to those accustomed to the soft hypocrisies of society.

I cannot imagine a God who rewards and punishes the objects of his creation and is but a reflection of human frailty.

There’s place and means for every man alive.

Nature is a mutable cloud which is always and never the same.