Quotes About Mountains

I heard the Denver and Rio Grande locomotives howling off in to the mountains. I wanted to pursue my star further.

No one has to know. No one would. It would be her secret, one she would share with the mountains only. The question is whether it is a secret she can live with, and Parwana thinks she knows the answer. She has lived with secrets all her life.

hills that stand soft and a sky that stands high and blue, and the sun setting behind a windmill, and always, always, hazy strings of mountains that fall and fall away on the horizon.

I looked westward and marveled that, somewhere over those mountains, Kabul still existed. It really existed, not just as an old memory, or as the heading of an AP story on page 15 of the San Francisco Chronicle.

I know what I said earlier, but Kabul isn't that bad." Mrs. Wahdati toyed with her necklace absently. She was looking out the window, a heaviness set on her features. "I like it best here at the end of spring, after the rains. The air so clean. That first burst of summer. The way the sun hits the mountains.

The more we are removed from nature, the more we are denied our birthright to play in forests, climb mountains, follow streams, and fall in love with meadows, to become creative, self-actualized, deeply intuitive.

Det var gode tider, dagene blev længere og luften mere skjær, jeg rustet mig for to dager og drev tilfjælds, til fjældtinderne, jeg traf renlapper og fik ost av dem, små fete oster med urteagtig smak. Jeg var der mere end en gang.

Fra min Hytte kunde jeg se et Virvar av Øer og Holmer og Skjær, litt av Sjøen, nogen blaanende Fjældtinder, og bak Hytten laa Skogen, en uhyre Skog. Jeg blev fuld av Glæde og Tak ved Duften av Røtter og Løv, av den fete Os av Furuen, som minder om Lukten av Marv; først i Skogen kom alt indeni mig i Stilhet, min Sjæl blev egal og fuld av Magt.

Solen er forlængst dukket under synsranden, fjældene er blit hvitlig grønne, de ser ut i sin fjærnhet og i sin vælde som en verden for sig selv.

Blue water extends in rows of gentle ripples to a thin line of barely visible cottonwoods on the far side. The wind dies to a whisper and it's quiet, almost perfectly still except for the snap of grasshoppers leaping from the weeds. To the west the mountains rise suddenly, almost violently from the sandy brown of the plains, layered silhouettes of blue and green and gray rising to a turquoise sky. My heart is filled with the beauty of it all.

Only the land remained, the silent order of the mountains, the ground covered in fallen dead leaves in the enormous space, a boundless expanse - disguising, concealing, hiding, covering all that lies below the burning earth.

I love being outdoors, being in the mountains and the desert, and my wife enjoys that too. That's one of the things that sustain our relationship.

Mountains and rivers at this very moment are the actualization of the world of the ancient Buddhas. Each, abiding in its phenomenal expression, realizes completeness.

Mountains had taken the place of religion, had satisfied her religious sense, her need for adoration and worship as no service in any Cathedral, however sublime, had been able to do.

I respect Everest very much.

Everything at a distance turns into poetry; distant mountains, distant people, distant events; all become Romantic.

The most romantic region of every country is that where the mountains unite themselves with the plains or lowlands.

Faeries, come take me out of this dull world, For I would ride with you upon the wind, Run on the top of the disheveled tide, And dance upon the mountains like a flame.

Never would I have a more memorable time than the month I spent in the mountains, though I wonder, when I say this, if it appears so only because it is our nature to make a heaven out of places to which we can never return.

The remoteness from civilisation, complete immersion in natural surroundings, breathtaking mountains covered with forest, fresh water springs, and rich flora and fauna inspire me every moment I am there. I feel part of it; moreover, when I step out of my house at night I clearly discern that I am standing on a living planet, turning and moving in its course under the brilliance of the Milky Way.

The goal of climbing big, dangerous mountains should be to attain some sort of spiritual and personal growth, but this won't happen if you compromise away the entire process.

Before the Incas and the Chimu and the Mochica, a culture named by scholars Chavin flourished in the mountains that lie in northern Peru between the coast and the Amazon basin. One of its first explorers, Julio C. Tello (Chavin and other works) called it "the matrix of Andean civilization." It takes us back to at least 1500 B.C.; and like that of the Olmec civilization in Mexico at the same time

Kitty stared at the sky smashing against the mountains.

Nothing lives long Only the earth and mountains — Dee Brown, Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee: An Indian History of the American West . (Holt Paperbacks; 30th Anniversary edition January 23, 2001) Originally published 1970.