John Muir Quotes

The world is its own magic.

What I wanted to do was to paint sunlight on the side of a house.

New Zealand was one of the most beautiful countries to drive through for the scenery and the vast scale of the place.

It was a rich and gorgeous sunset - an American sunset; and the ruddy glow of the sky was reflected from some extensive pools of water among the shadowy copses in the meadow below.

Yosemite Valley, to me, is always a sunrise, a glitter of green and golden wonder in a vast edifice of stone and space.

Nothing is more beautiful than the loveliness of the woods before sunrise.

The Scottish Highlands are incredible. There seems to be magic and poetry everywhere.

I was born on the prairies where the wind blew free and there was nothing to break the light of the sun. I was born where there were no enclosures.

Bald as the bare mountain tops are bald, with a baldness full of grandeur.

If Antarctica were music it would be Mozart. Art, and it would be Michelangelo. Literature, and it would be Shakespeare. And yet it is something even greater; the only place on earth that is still as it should be. May we never tame it.

Sunlight is painting.

Life has loveliness to sell, all beautiful and splendid things, blue waves whitened on a cliff, soaring fire that sways and sings, and children's faces looking up, holding wonder like a cup.

The view outside was much more important than the exhibits.

The countryside in Belfast is beautiful. No technical wizardry is needed to show quite how glorious it is in its natural state.

I have been overcome by the beauty and richness of our life together, those early mornings setting out, those evenings gleaming with rivers and lakes below us, still holding the last light.

When I look at green trees on a sunny day, I don't know how to make an interesting picture of that.

The peacock has become one of my regular sources of inspiration from nature.

It's mountains. The air is crisp. It's peaceful. You don't get spring break in Guanajuato.

In the woods where snow is thick, bars of sunlight lay like pale fire.

There is no climate, no place, and scarcely an hour, in which nature does not exhibit color which no mortal effort can imitate or approach. For all our artificial pigments are, even when seen under the same circumstances, dead and lightless beside her living color; nature exhibits her hues under an intensity of sunlight which trebles their brilliancy.

When at last I took the time to look into the heart of a flower, it opened up a whole new world; a world where every country walk would be an adventure, where every garden would become an enchanted one.

Over the river a golden ray of sun came through the hosts of leaden rain clouds.

The elms of New England! They are as much a part of her beauty as the columns of the Parthenon were the glory of its architecture.

Laugh out, O stream, from your bed of green, / Where you lie in the sun's embrace; / And talk to the reeds that o'er you lean / To touch your dimpled face.

Love is Natures second sun.