For the Fall of the year is more than three months bounded by an equinox and a solstice. It is a summing up without the finality of year's end.

Year's end is neither an end nor a beginning but a going on, with all the wisdom that experience can instill in us.

All walking is discovery. On foot we take the time to see things whole.

No winter lasts forever; no spring skips its turn.

There it is, fog, atmospheric moisture still uncertain in destination, not quite weather and not altogether mood, yet partaking of both.

As I stood and watched the mists slowly rising this morning I wondered what view was more beautiful than this.

Summer ends, and Autumn comes, and he who would have it otherwise would have high tide always and a full moon every night.

You can't be suspicious of a tree, or accuse a bird or a squirrel of subversion or challenge the ideology of a violet.

A snowdrift is a beautiful thing - if it doesn't lie across the path you have to shovel or block the road that leads to your destination.

If you would know strength and patience, welcome the company of trees.

A woodland in full color is awesome as a forest fire, in magnitude at least, but a single tree is like a dancing tongue of flame to warm the heart.

You are consciousness dressed in form, my love. Consciousness is divine. Matter is divine. Creation is divine. Everything is divine. Are you somehow the only exception?

Love is the thread with which we connect to the world.

I've worked with actors who treat the first two takes like rehearsals. And that's okay. If the camera is on you and we're doing a scene where I'm off camera, I'm treating that as a rehearsal.

Fighting for what you think is right is always worth it.

I convinced him his luggage had gone to that big Bermuda Triangle in the sky.

I don't know if I'm attention deficit, but I certainly am easily distracted by other things.

Now now, Emily, it isn't nice to tell the truth.

Men soon get tired of shedding their blood for the advantage of a few individuals, who think they amply reward the soldiers perils with the treasures they amass.

I am not much of a hand at love songs, you see I mingle metaphysics with even this, but perhaps in this age of Philosophy that may be excused.

And the tear that is wiped with a little address, May be follow'd perhaps by a smile.