The sun shines not on us but in us. The rivers flow not past, but
through us. Thrilling, tingling, vibrating every fiber and cell of the
substance of our bodies, making them glide and sing. The trees wave and
the flowers bloom in our bodies as well as our souls, and every bird
song, wind song, and tremendous storm song of the rocks in the heart of
the mountains is our song, our very own, and sings our love.
― John Muir
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