The old pond-A frog leaps in, and a splash.

At present, [in the desert] an exasperating clarity reigns. The sky has become less visible than water in a jar. Black peaks, spines of granite, a twisted tree are sculpted in this atmosphere basted with reflections. All that remains: a countryside of imperishable contours.

There is something in the decay of nature that awakens thought, even in the most trifling mind.

Nature is the harmless and kind beloved of those who have been disillusioned by other beloveds.

Nature as it is-nature with nothing selected or discarded from it-cannot become a work of art.