Nearly every season, I make the acquaintance of one or more new flowers. It takes years to exhaust the botanical treasures of any one considerable neighborhood, unless one makes a dead set at it, like an herbalist.
If you think you can do it, you can.
All birds are incipient or would-be songsters in the spring. I find corroborative evidence of this even in the crowing of the cock.
Life is a struggle, but not a warfare.
Without the emotion of the beautiful, the sublime, the mysterious, there is no art, no religion, no literature.
If we take science as our sole guide, if we accept and hold fast that alone which is verifiable, the old theology must go.
