"Ice burns, and it is hard to the warm-skinned to distinguish one sensation, fire, from the other, frost."

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I am in love with this world . . . I have climbed its mountains, roamed its forests, sailed its waters, crossed its deserts, felt the sting of its frosts, the oppression of its heats, the drench of its rains, the fury of its winds, and always have beauty and joy waited upon my goings and comings.

— John Burroughs