Henry Van Dyke,
Little Rivers: A Book of Essays in Profitable Idleness
“ An ugly road with none to travel it; a long, ghastly scar on the bosom of the earth.The life of a river, like that of a human being, consists in the union of soul and body, the water and the banks. They belong together. They act and react upon each other. The stream moulds and makes the shore; hollowing out a bay here, and building a long point there; alluring the little bushes close to its side, and bending the tall slim trees over its current; sweeping a rocky ledge clean of everything but moss, and sending a still lagoon full of white arrow-heads and rosy knotweed far back into the meadow. ”
