Man is a great blunderer going about in the woods, and there is no other except the bear makes so much noise. Mary Hunter Austin More Quotes by Mary Hunter Austin More Quotes From Mary Hunter Austin Man is not himself only...He is all that he sees; all that flows to him from a thousand sources...He is the land, the lift of its mountain lines, the reach of its valleys. Mary Hunter Austin nature land men This is the sense of the desert hills, that there is room enough and time enough Mary Hunter Austin hills desert rooms As I walk .. as I walk .. / The universe .. is walking with me .. / Beautifully .. it walks before me .... / Beautifully .. on every side .... / As I walk .. I walk with beauty. Mary Hunter Austin walks sides beauty For all the toll the desert takes of a man it gives compensations, deep breaths, deep sleep, and the communion of the stars. Mary Hunter Austin stars sleep men What women have to stand on squarely [is] not their ability to see the world in the way men see it, but the importance and validity of their seeing it in some other way. Mary Hunter Austin women way world When a woman ceases to alter the fashion of her hair, you guess that she has passed the crisis of her experience. Mary Hunter Austin experience fashion hair Genius . . . arises in the natural, aboriginal concern for the conscious unity of all phenomena. Mary Hunter Austin unity genius natural The manner of the country makes the usage of life there, and the land will not be lived in except in its own fashion. Mary Hunter Austin fashion land country The real wonder is not that one man should be a genius, but that every man should not be. Mary Hunter Austin genius real men I am not sure that God always knows who are his great men; he is so very careless of what happens to them while they live. Mary Hunter Austin careless not-sure men It is no use trying to improve on children's names for wildflowers. Mary Hunter Austin names trying children Probably we never fully credit the interdependence of wild creatures, and their cognizance of the affairs of their own kind. Mary Hunter Austin affair credit kind The palpable sense of mystery in the desert air breeds fables, chiefly of lost treasure. ... It is a question whether it is not better to be bitten by the little horned snake of the desert that goes sidewise and strikes without coiling, than by the tradition of a lost mine. Mary Hunter Austin desert snakes air Man is a great blunderer going about in the woods, and there is no other except the bear makes so much noise. ... The cunningest hunger is hunted in turn, and what he leaves of his kill is meat for some other. That is the economy of nature, but with it all there is not sufficient account taken of the works of man. There is no scavenger that eats tin cans, and no wild thing leaves a like disfigurement on the forest floor. Mary Hunter Austin nature taken men Ride your emotions as the shallop rides the waves; don't get upset among them. There are people who enjoy getting swamped emotionally, just as, incredibly, there are people who enjoy getting drunk. Mary Hunter Austin upset drunk people No man can be stronger than his destiny. Mary Hunter Austin fate destiny men Some think that even the ancients who lived long before the present generation, and first framed accounts of the Gods, had a similar view of nature; for they made the Oceanus and Tethys the parents of creation, and described the oath of the Gods as being by water, to which they give the name of Styx; for what is oldest is most honourable, and the most honourable thing is that by which one swears Mary Hunter Austin views rain thinking It is always so much easier to be moral than it is to be spiritual. Mary Hunter Austin morality moral spiritual The desert floras shame us with their cheerful adaptations to the seasonal limitations. Their whole duty is to flower and fruit, and they do it hardly, or with tropical luxuriance, as the rain admits. ... One hopes the land may breed like qualities in her human offspring, not tritely to 'try,' but to do. Mary Hunter Austin land flower rain I suppose that Italy must always lie like some lovely sunken island at the bottom of all passionate dreams, from which at the flood it may arise; the air of it is charged with subtle essences of romance. One supposes Italy must be organized for the need of lovers. Mary Hunter Austin dream islands lying
