“I had built a little cabin in Yosemite, and for convenience in getting water, and for the sake of music and society, I led a small stream from Yosemite Creek into it. Running along the side of the wall it was not in the way, and it had just fall enough to ripple and sing in low, sweet tones, making delightful company, especially at night when I was lying awake. Then a few frogs came in and made merry with the stream, — and one snake.”

“Let my delight be the country, and the running streams amid the dells—may I love the waters and the woods, though I be unknown to fame.”
Rura mihi et rigui placeant in vallibus amnes, Flumina amem sylvasque inglorius.

“Had records so stellar, they had to lock their resumes in a drawer at night, so the golden light streaming from the pages wouldn't keep them awake.”

“That crystal river keeps its pools of blue water free from all stain above its shallow bed, and slowly draws along its fair stream of greenish hue. One would scarce believe it was moving; so softly along its shady banks, while the birds sing sweet in rivalry, it leads along in a shining flood its waters that tempt to sleep.”
Caeruleas Ticinus aquas et stagna uadoso perspicuus seruat turbari nescia fundo ac nitidum uiridi lente trahit amne liquorem. uix credas labi: ripis tam mitis opacis argutos inter uolucrum certamine cantus somniferam ducit lucenti gurgite lympham.

“A leaf carried away with the stream of water, it can crash along the way, or go on to the darkest parts of the unknown ocean.”

“By the time it came to the edge of the Forest the stream had grown up, so that it was almost a river, and, being grown-up, it did not run and jump and sparkle along as it used to do when it was younger, but moved more slowly. For it knew now where it was going, and it said to itself, "There is no hurry. We shall get there some day."”

“As I conclude I reflect on my childhood experience when I would visit a stream next to our home to fetch water for my mother. I would drink water straight from the stream. Playing among the arrowroot leaves I tried in vain to pick up the strands of frogs’ eggs, believing they were beads. But every time I put my little fingers under them they would break. Later, I saw thousands of tadpoles: black, energetic and wriggling through the clear water against the background of the brown earth. This is the world I inherited from my parents. Today, over 50 years later, the stream has dried up, women walk long distances for water, which is not always clean, and children will never know what they have lost. The challenge is to restore the home of the tadpoles and give back to our children a world of beauty and wonder.”

“If there is but little water in the stream, it is the fault, not of the channel, but of the source.”
Si rivus tenuiter fluit, non est alvei culpa, sed fontis.

“There is sweet music here that softer falls
Than petals from blown roses on the grass,
Or night-dews on still waters between walls
Of shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass;
Music that gentlier on the spirit lies,
Than tir'd eyelids upon tir'd eyes.”

“I had an apartment and I had a neighbor, and whenever he would knock on my wall, I knew he wanted me to turn my music down, and that made me angry 'cause I like loud music… So when he knocked on the wall, I'd mess with his head. I'd say "Go around! I cannot open the wall! I don't know if you have a door on your side, but over here there's nothin.'”