When I no longer thrill to the first snow of the season, I’ll know I’m growing old. – Lady Bird Johnson

The substance of the winds is too thin for human eyes, their written language is too difficult for human minds, and their spoken language mostly too faint for the ears. – John Muir, A Thousand-Mile Walk To the Gulf

It was an ideal spring day, a light blue sky, flecked with little fleecy white clouds drifting across from west to east. The sun was shining very brightly, and yet there was an exhilarating nip in the air, which set an edge to a man’s energy. – Arthur Conan Doyle