Quotes About Appreciation

Admiring is easy, but affinity, that does take some time.

All I know is that thank you should appear somewhere. So just in case I can't find the perfect place- Thank you, thank you.

I am so happy to be alive in this world I would like to live forever, but I am content not to. Seeing what I have seen has filled me; believing what I believe has filled me.

Because of the dog's joyfulness, our own is increased. It is no small gift. It is not the least reason why we should honor as well as love the dog of our own life, and the dog down the street, and all the dogs not yet born. What would the world be like without music or rivers or the green and tender grass? What would this world be like without dogs?

Oh, to love what is lovely and will not last! What a task to ask of anything, or anyone, yet it is ours, and not by the century or the year, but by the hours.

What would the world be like without music or rivers or the green and tender grass? What would this world be like without dogs?

What lay on the road was no mere handful of snake. It was the copperhead at last, golden under the street lamp. I hope to see everything in this world before I die.

the sunflowers themselves far more wonderful than any words about them.

PERCY (NINE) Your friend is coming I say to Percy, and name a name and he runs to the door, his wide mouth in its laugh-shape, and waves, since he has one, his tail. Emerson, I am trying to live, as you said we must, the examined life. But there are days I wish there was less in my head to examine, not to speak of the busy heart. How would it be to be Percy, I wonder, not thinking, not weighing anything, just running forward.

This is the earnest work. Each of us is given only so many mornings to do it— to look around and love the oily fur of our lives, the hoof and the grass-stained muzzle.

But this: it is heaven itself to take what is given,     to see what is plain; what the sun lights up willingly; for example—I think this     as I reach down, not to pick but merely to touch— the suitability of the field for the daisies, and the     daisies for the field.

and easily she adored every blossom, not in the serious, careful way that we choose this blossom or that blossom— the way we praise or don't praise— the way we love or don't love— but the way we long to be— that happy in the heaven of earth— that wild, that loving.

Give them the fields and the woods and the possibility of the world salvaged from the lords of profit. Stand them in the stream, head them upstream, rejoice as they learn to love this green space they live in, its sticks and leaves and then the silent, beautiful blossoms.

I think this is / the prettiest world—so long as you don't mind / a little dying

to know our world is to be busy all day long with happiness.

It is what I was born for— to look, to listen, to lose myself inside this soft world— to instruct myself over and over in joy, and acclamation. Nor am I talking about the exceptional, the fearful, the dreadful, the very extravagant— but of the ordinary, the common, the very drab, the daily presentations.

He bowed to show his respect. "Thank you," said Jack and Annie. They bowed back to him.

It's beautiful," said Annie. "Feel." She handed it to Jack. The thread was smooth and soft.

Thanks," said Annie. "Thanks," said Jack.

Books were more valuable to him than gold.

And finally, my gratitude to UM 006, H, Mr. Blank, Ben, the big guy in the sweatpants, and the owners of the forty heads. You are dead, but you're not forgotten.

Most of us pass our lives never once laying eyes on our organs, the most precious and amazing things we own. Until something goes wrong, we barely give them thought. This seems strange to me. How is it that we find Christina Aguilera more interesting than the inside of our own bodies? It is, of course, possible that I seem strange. You may be thinking, Wow, that Mary Roach has her head up her ass. To which I say: Only briefly, and with the utmost respect.

Gradually I found that my name signed to a check was even more welcome than when signed to a letter

She wrote, "I can never thank you enough, Mrs. Robertson, for being so kind and understanding with the whole of Fleet Street following me!!