A lucky man is rarer than a white crow.

Sometimes I spend all day trying to count the leaves on a single tree. To do this I have to climb branch by branch and write down the numbers in a little book. So I suppose, from their point of view, it’s reasonable that my friends say: what foolishness! She’s got her head in the clouds again. But it’s not. Of course I have to give up, but by then I’m half crazy with the wonder of it — the abundance of the leaves, the quietness of the branches, the hopelessness of my effort. And I am in that delicious and important place, roaring with laughter, full of earth-praise.

Luck comes to a man who puts himself in the way of it.

Man only likes to count his troubles; he doesn't calculate his happiness.

Soon man will count all his days, and then smaller segments of the day, and then smaller still — until the counting consumes him, and the wonder of the world he has been given is lost.

Where does a wise man hide a leaf? In the forest. But what does he do if there is no forest? He grows a forest to hide it in.

Some people come by the name of genius in the same way that certain insects come by the name of centipede — not because they have a hundred feet, but because most people can't count above 14.

when a man knows not how to read, or is left-handed, it

FOLK SAYING: “The luck of an am horets is this: He doesn’t know that he doesn’t know.

counting our blessings doesn’t boost our confidence or our effort, but counting our contributions can.

To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee,
One clover, and a bee,
And revery.
The revery alone will do,
If bees are few.

My old man says when it's time to be counted, the important thing is to be man enough to stand up.

A man must have a less than ordinary share of sense that would furnish such plain and common rooms with silver-footed couches and purple coverlets and gold and silver plate.

Not everything that can be counted counts, and not everything that counts can be counted.” — William Bruce Cameron