"When children run upon the Moor, they seldom look much further than the ground at their feet, for there their treasures lie. When the old come hither, they gaze far off into the hills and upon the sky above them."
"There are rare moments when the golden link of all matter seems visible and we forget our insignificance and feel a part appreciable of the splendid whole. The air we breathe is the same that burns in glory under the sun; the water and the lime that build us are also in the precipices and palaces of the summer clouds and the bones of the land beneath our feet. On such days we claim kinship with the elements and share their life and greatness and justification. They are festivals of all earth's thanksgiving and their lyric hymn throbs from the harp of a mighty minstrel, for it is the anthem of the rapture of life."