Oh, these vast, calm measureless mountain days in whose light every thing seems equally divine, opening a thousand windows to show us God... These blessed mountains are so compactly filled with God's beauty [that] the whole body seems to feel beauty when exposed to it as it feels the campfire or sunshine, entering not by eye alone, but equally through all one's flesh like radiant heat, making a passionate ecstatic pleasure-glow not explainable... A few minutes ago every tree was excited, bowing to the roaring storm, waving, swirling, tossing their branches in glorious enthusiasm like worship. But though to the outer ear these trees are now silent, their songs never cease. Every hidden cell is throbbing with music and life, every fibre thrilling like harp strings, while incense is ever flowing from the balsam bells and leaves. No wonder the hills and groves were God's first temples, and the more they are cut down and hewn into cathedrals and churches, the farther off and dimmer seems the Lord himself.
ADAPTED FROM JOHN MUIR
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