You've never seen Manhattan 'til you've flown right up the East River. It's beautiful.
As I stood and watched the mists slowly rising this morning I wondered what view was more beautiful than this.
Seek on high bare trails Sky-reflecting violets... Mountain-top jewels
Kanan is a big road through the Santa Monica Mountains. Between mid-March and mid-April, when you get over to the western side of the mountains, it's populated by Spanish broom - this beautiful, yellow, flowering weed that smells the way I imagine it smells along the Yellow Brick Road.
When I walk, I try to set a fairly brisk rate. I love walking outside. I hate machines like treadmills. The path that I have chosen to walk is just city streets, but you see pretty houses, trees... my routes have some hills in them; it's not just straight walking. You have to exercise your heart and lungs.
Nothing is more pleasant to the eye than green grass kept finely shorn.
The turkey oak can grow practically submerged within the wetlands of Mississippi, its leaves soft as a newborn's skin.
Cedar, and pine, and fir, and branching palm, A sylvan scene, and as the ranks ascend Shade above shade, a woody theatre Of stateliest view.
There's no-one up there in Northern Norway, food's terrible, but it's very, very beautiful to look at, if you've got eyes, and enjoy looking.
The air was cool enough to make the warm sun pleasant on one's back and shoulders, and so clear that the eye could follow a hawk up and up, into the blazing blue depths of the sky.
The landscape in Ireland is just - I've never been in such a beautiful place with the lakes and ocean and everything.
Just now the lilac is in bloom All before my little room.
