We are now in the mountains and they are in us, kindling enthusiasm, making every nerve quiver, filling every pore and cell of us. Our flesh-and-bone tabernacle seems transparent as glass to the beauty about us, neither old nor young, sick or well, but immortal. I am a captive. I am bound. Love of pure unblemished Nature seems to overmaster and blur out of sight all other objects and consideration... As long as I live, I'll hear waterfalls and birds and winds sing. I'll interpret the rocks, learn the language of flood, storm, and the avalanche. I'll acquaint myself with the glaciers, and wild gardens, and get as near the heart of the world as I can.
Our spiritual journey is deeply reflected by the evolution of the voice and by the ways in which we communicate with others. Our fears, softness, sharp edges, peacefulness, and joy are carried to others by our tone, words or lack of words. As people become more whole and in tune with themselves, they usually speak with greater simplicity, resonating from both heart and head.