Nature (n.) has no outside — All things come to their fulfillment as the one universal Nature directs; for there is no rival Nature, whether containing her from without, or itself contained within her, or even existing apart and detached from her.
Nature (n.) contains no evil: whatever is natural, death included, cannot be bad.
Nature (n.) loves nothing more than altering what exists and making new things like it; everything that exists is the seed of what will come out of it.
Nature (n.) differs from a tool: a hammer works with its maker miles away, but in a living thing the force that designed it is still inside.
Nature (n.) works like a sculptor with wax: it makes a horse, melts it down for a tree, then a person, then something else — each lasting only briefly.
Nature (n.) never makes us endure the unendurable; nothing that can happen is unusual or unnatural.
Nature (n.) has no door to sweep its sawdust out of, so it takes everything broken, old and useless back into itself and makes new things from it.
Nature (n.) gives and takes away; the sensible, humble man tells her "Give and take as you please" — not in defiance but in goodwill.
Nature (n.) is answered with total consent: nothing that is in season for you, O World, is early or late for me; whatever your seasons bear is fruit.
Nature (n.) differs from craft: the toolmaker leaves the tool, but the power that made natural things stays inside them — so they deserve more reverence.
Nature (n.) works the world's substance like wax: now a horse, then melted into a tree, then a man, then something else — none for long.
Nature (n.) is a mover: it takes what is here, carries it there, changes it, and takes it away again — so nothing is new.
Nature (n.) has no rubbish heap: she has nowhere outside herself to throw waste, so she remakes all that is rotten and old into new things.
Nature (n.) has nowhere outside itself to throw its waste, so it turns its own detritus back into the stuff of new beings.