In the presence of eternity, the mountains are as transient as the clouds.
Art is the only way to run away without leaving home.
Nature is not a place to visit. It is home.
The lake and the mountains have become my landscape, my real world.
Life is a little like a message in a bottle, to be carried by the winds and the tides.
Water is the driving force of all nature.
The sun shines not on us but in us. The rivers flow not past, but through us.
A lake carries you into recesses of feeling otherwise impenetrable.
The lake is a reminder that beauty can be found in stillness.
The lake is a window into the soul of the earth.
I believe that there is a subtle magnetism in Nature, which, if we unconsciously yield to it, will direct us aright.
The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead when the skies of November turn gloomy.
The lake is a microcosm of time past and time future.
The lake is a place of poetry.
The lake is a mirror of the sky.
Many a calm river begins as a turbulent waterfall, yet none hurtles and foams all the way to the sea.