Famous John Muir Quotes

  • Go quietly, alone; no harm will befall you. – John Muir

    Go quietly, alone; no harm will befall you.– John Muir

  • When we try to pick out any­thing by itself, we find it hitched to every­thing else in the Uni­verse. – John Muir

    When we try to pick out any­thing by itself, we find it hitched to every­thing else in the Uni­verse.– John Muir

  • The world, we are told, was made especially for man -” a presumption not supported by all the facts. – John Muir

    The world, we are told, was made especially for man -” a presumption not supported by all the facts.– John Muir

  • Even the sick should try these so-called dangerous passes, because for every unfortunate they kill, they cure a thousand. – John Muir

    Even the sick should try these so-called dangerous passes, because for every unfortunate they kill, they cure a thousand.– John Muir

  • Every hidden cell is throbbing with music and life, every fiber thrilling like harp strings. – John Muir

    Every hidden cell is throbbing with music and life, every fiber thrilling like harp strings.– John Muir

  • Come to the woods, for here is rest. There is no repose like that of the green deep woods. Sleep in forgetfulness of all ill. – John Muir

    Come to the woods, for here is rest. There is no repose like that of the green deep woods. Sleep in forgetfulness of all ill.– John Muir

  • It seems supernatural, but only because it is not understood. – John Muir

    It seems supernatural, but only because it is not understood.– John Muir

  • Raindrops blossom brilliantly in the rainbow, and change to flowers in the sod, but snow comes in full flower direct from the dark, frozen sky. – John Muir

    Raindrops blossom brilliantly in the rainbow, and change to flowers in the sod, but snow comes in full flower direct from the dark, frozen sky.– John Muir

  • Nothing truly wild is unclean. – John Muir

    Nothing truly wild is unclean.– John Muir

  • What a psalm the storm was singing, and how fresh the smell of the washed earth and leaves, and how sweet the still small voices of the storm! – John Muir

    What a psalm the storm was singing, and how fresh the smell of the washed earth and leaves, and how sweet the still small voices of the storm!– John Muir