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“...Nature becomes your teacher, and from her you will learn what is beautiful and who you are and what is your special quest in life and whither you should go...You live on manna vouchsafed to you daily, miraculously. You stretch out arms for hidden gifts, you year toward the moonbeams and the stars, you listen with new ears to bird's songs and the murmurs of trees and streams....From day to day you keep your log, your day-book of the soul, and you may think at first that it is a mere record of travel and of facts; but something else will be entering into it, poetry, the new poetry of your life, and it will be evident to a seeing eye that you are gradually becoming an artist in life, you are learning the gentle art of tramping, and it is giving you an artist's joy in creation.”
― The Gentle Art of Tramping;With Introductory Essays and Excerpts on Walking - by Sydney Smith, William Hazlitt, Leslie Stephen, & John Burroughs
― The Gentle Art of Tramping;With Introductory Essays and Excerpts on Walking - by Sydney Smith, William Hazlitt, Leslie Stephen, & John Burroughs
“The richest people in life are the good listeners.”
― The Gentle Art of Tramping
― The Gentle Art of Tramping
“Be brave, be curious, be determined, overcome the odds. It can be done”
― Brief Answers to the Big Questions
― Brief Answers to the Big Questions
“But Petar was gone, and here Ferdi was now, or what was left of him: the bare bones of a questionable soul.”
― The Piano Room
― The Piano Room
“As Laura stood waiting she felt a great longing. It weighed upon her like the load of ripened fruit upon a tree. She forgot the shop, the other customers, her own errand. She forgot the winter air outside, the people going by on the wet pavements. She forgot that she was in London, she forgot the whole of her London life. She seemed to be standing alone in a darkening orchard, her feet in the grass, her arms stretched up to the pattern of leaves and fruit, her fingers seeking the rounded ovals of the fruit among the pointed ovals of the leaves. The air about her was cool and moist. There was no sound, for the birds had left off singing and the owls had not yet begun to hoot. No sound, except sometimes the soft thud of a ripe plum falling into the grass, to lie there a compact shadow among shadows. The back of her neck ached a little with the strain of holding up her arms. Her fingers searched among the leaves.”
― Lolly Willowes
― Lolly Willowes
Ask Madeline Miller - September 21, 2012
— 160 members
— last activity Dec 25, 2025 12:49AM
Join us on Friday, September 21, 2012 for a special discussion with debut author Madeline Miller. Madeline will be discussing her work, including her ...more
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