Quotes About Land

The Earth was form'd, but in the Womb as yet   Of Waters, Embryon immature involv'd,   Appeer'd not: over all the face of Earth   Main Ocean flow'd, not idle, but with warme   Prolific humour soft'ning all her Globe,   Fermented the great Mother to conceave,   Satiate with genial moisture, when God said   Be gather'd now ye Waters under Heav'n   Into one place, and let dry Land appeer.

As for the Mormons one meets, however their doctrines be regarded, they will be found as rich in human kindness as any people in all our broad land, while the dark memories that cloud their earlier history will vanish from the mind as completely as when we bathe in the fountain azure of the Sierra.

The only other option we have is for the government to hand control of the land to a dozen directors of a corporation sitting in Toronto or New York with no long-term interest. They simply want to extract the minerals or timber, extract the wealth from the land, and move on. That is the business they are in. You

And now, at last, the Supreme Court has made it perfectly clear that the Manitoba Métis had been cheated out of their land by the Government of Canada. That is, by you and me. That the Government of Canada betrayed the Honour of the Crown. And we are the Crown. You and I.

On the surface, said the deep voice of Andrew Ryan booming from hidden speakers, The farmer tills the soil, trading the strength off his arm for a land of his own. But the parasites say, 'No! What is yours is ours! We are the state; we are God; we demand our share!

It was largely a land without Borders - something that attracted him and disturbed him both. The land didn't need laws. But the people did.

We could live offa the fatta the lan'.

But you can't start. Only a baby can start. You and me - why, we're all that's been. The anger of a moment, the thousand pictures, that's us. This land, this red land, is us; and the flood years and the dust years and the drought years are us. We can't start again.

They come, an' they quit an' go on; an' every damn one of 'em's got a little piece of land in his head. An' never a God damn one of 'em ever gets it.

And when that crop grew, and was harvested, no man had crumbled a hot clod in his fingers and let the earth sift past his fingertips. No man had touched the seed, or lusted for the growth. Men ate what they had not raised, had no connection with the bread. The land bore under iron, and under iron gradually died; for it was not loved or hated, it had no prayers or curses.

Everybody wants a little bit of land, not much. Jus' som'thin' that was his. Som'thin' he could live on and there couldn't nobody throw him off of it.

Nobody never gets to heaven, and nobody gets no land. It's just in their head.

Here is the node, you who hate change and fear revolution. Keep these two squatting men apart; make them hate, fear, suspect each other. Here is the anlage of the thing you fear. This is the zygote. For here 'I lost my land' is changed; a cell is split and from its splitting grows the thing you hate--'We lost *our* land.

but it's our land. We measured it and broke it up. We were born on it, and we got killed on it, died on it. Even if it's no good, it's still ours. That's what makes it ours- being born on it, working it, dying on it. That makes ownership, not a paper with numbers on it.

That's what makes it ours-being born on it, working on it, dying on it. That makes ownership, not a paper with numbers on it.

In town in a whorehouse. That's where your money's goin'. Jesus, I seen it happen too many times. I seen too many guys with land in their head. They never get none under their hand.

To the red country and part of the gray country of Oklahoma, the last rains came gently, and they did not cut the scarred earth.

The Pacific is my home ocean; I knew it first, grew up on its shore, collected marine animals along the coast. I know its moods, its color, its nature. It was very far inland that I caught the first smell of the Pacific. When one has been long at sea, the smell of land reaches far out to greet one. And the same it true when one has been long inland.

Look, Samuel, I mean to make a garden of my land. Remember my name is Adam. So far I've had no Eden, let alone been driven out." "It's the best reason I ever heard for making a garden," Samuel exclaimed. He chuckled.

That man who is more than his chemistry, walking on the earth, turning his plow point for a stone, dropping his handles to slide over an outcropping, kneeling in the earth to eat his lunch; that man who is more than his elements knows the land that is more than its analysis. But the machine man, driving a dead tractor on land he does not know and love, understands only chemistry; and he is contemptuous of the land and of himself.

Sure, cried the tenant men, but it's our land. We measured it and broke it up. We were born on it, and we got killed on it, died on it. Even if it's no good, it's still ours. That's what makes it ours-being born on it, working it, dying on it.

Joseph saw how he could make a gesture with his arms and hands, that would sweep in and indicate and symbolize the ripe stars and the whole cup of the sky, the land, eddied with black trees, and the crested waves that were the mountains, an earth storm, frozen in the peak of its rushing, or stone breakers moving eastward with infinite slowness. Joseph wondered whether there were any words to say these things. He said, I like the night. It's more strong than the day.

Okies--the owners hated them because they knew they were soft and the Okies strong, that they were fed and the Okies hungry; and perhaps the owners had heard from their grandfathers how easy it is to steal land from a soft man if you are fierce and hungry and armed. The owners hated them.

A crop raised--why, that makes ownership. Land hoed and the carrots eaten--a man might fight for land he's taken food from. Get him off quick! He'll think he owns it. He might even die fighting for the little plot among the Jimson weed.