I read an excerpt from the Outermost House by Henry Beston while hiking last weekend and it moved me deeply. So perfect for the setting.
Some have asked me what understanding of Nature one shapes from so strange a year. I would answer that one's first appreciation is a sense that creation is still going on, that the creative forces are as great and as active as they have ever been, and that tomorrow's morning will be as heroic as any of the world. Creation is here and now. So near is man to the creative pageant, so much a part is he of the endless and incredible experiment, that any glimpse he may have will be but the revelation of a moment, a solitary note in a symphony thundering through debatable existences of time. Poetry is as necessary to comprehension as science. It is as impossible to live without reverence as it is without joy.


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