Many eyes go through the meadow, but few see the flowers in it

We are immensed in beauty, but our eyes have no clear vision.

How cunningly nature hides every wrinkle of her inconceivable antiquity under roses and violets and morning dew!

I wiped away the weeds and foam, I fetched my sea-born treasures home; But the poor, unsightly, noisome things Had left their beauty on the shore, With the sun and the sand and the wild uproar

If the stars should appear one night in a thousand years, how would men believe and adore; and preserve for many generations the remembrance of the city of God which had been shown! But every night come out these envoys of beauty, and light the universe with their admonishing smile.

Nature encourages no looseness, pardons no errors.