Quotes About Meadows

Disconcerted by his swift change of mood, Lottie led him out of the forest to a sunken road. The morning sun rose higher, chasing the lavender from the sky and warming the meadows. The field they passed was filled with heather and emerald spaghnum moss, and dotted with tiny red sundew rosettes.

a court jester mannequin, complete with a red and yellow hat that had bells on the

Rachel and Kirsty could help the Weather Fairies recover all of Doodle's stolen feathers.

ferry was sailing toward it, dipping up and down on the rolling waves. "Is that Rainspell Island?" she asked.

Welcome to Rainbow Falls Gardens," said the man behind the desk.

From the old and pleasantly situated village of Mayenfeld, a footpath winds through green and shady meadows to the foot of the mountains, which on this side look down from their stern and lofty heights upon the valley below. The land grows gradually wilder as the path ascends, and the climber has not gone far before he begins to inhale the fragrance of the short grass and sturdy mountain plants, for the way is steep and leads directly up to the summits above.

The day was warm; but the fact that the sky was covered with a filmy veil of grey clouds gave to the vast plain before him the appearance of a landscape whose dominant characteristic consisted in a patient effacement of all emphatic or outstanding qualities. The green of the meadows was a shy, watery green. The verdure of the elm trees was a sombre, blackish monotony. The yellow of the stubble land was a whitish-yellow, pallid and lustreless.

The inclusion of dreams is the only viable supplement to the absence of more favourable outcomes.

Silently, one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven, Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels. —Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Evangeline

Then he would leave for the underworld, where I could never go, for gods are the opposite of death. I tried to imagine those dusky hills and gray meadows, the shades moving slow and white among them. Some walked hand in hand with those they had loved in life; some waited, secure that one day their beloved would come. And for those who had not loved, whose lives had been filled with pain and horror, there was the black river Lethe, where one might drink and forget. Some consolation.

Silently one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven, Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels

The sun shone on the meadows and woods like a trusted employee.

Sleep is light in nomad camps. The body, exhausted by space, grows warm, stretches out straight, recalls the length of the trip. The paths of the mountain ridges run like shivers along the spine. The velvet meadows burden and tickle the eyelids. Bedsores of the ravines hollow out the sides. Sleep immures you, bricks you up. Last thought: have to ride around some ridge...

The peaceful meadows have been silenced because of the LORDís burning anger.