Quotes About Meadow

There is her sty,' he said, pointing a reverent finger as they crossed the little meadow dappled with buttercups and daisies. 'And that is my pigman Wellbeloved standing by it.' Myra

Sleeping. Turning in turn like planets rotating in their midnight meadow: a touch is enough to let us know we're not alone in the universe, even in sleep.

Put a horse in an empty meadow, and the meadow becomes animate. Put a saola, even a saola you cannot see, in a forest, and the forest, as though it held a unicorn, acquires an energy that cannot be named. It becomes numinous; it gains the pull of gravity, the weight of water, the float of a feather.

Subby Subby Subby," whispered Goss. "Keep those little bells on your slippers as quiet as you can. Sparklehorse and Starpink have managed to creep out of Apple Palace past all the monkeyfish, but if we're silent as tiny goblins we can surprise them and then all frolic off together in the Meadow of Happy Kites.

Those who can't afford a uniform may wear a blue armband / from which the meadow pipit filches a single strand / to bind its nest. The rest of us are bound / by honor alone.

Most people in the midst of disaster have yet one hope that lingers on some misty horizon—the possibility of love, money coming, the assurance that time cures all hurts, no matter how painful. But Loftis, gazing out at the meadow, had no such assurance; his deposit, it seemed, on all of life's happiness had been withdrawn in full and his heart had shriveled within him like a collapsed balloon.

Then the King of Arragon pushed old Utepandragun over his horse's tail down on to the meadow – the King of Britain! – where he lay in a bed of flowers!

ocean's snaking blues beyond the meadow

A meadow of flowers flows impossibly from the other side of the window. There is no river there, no scrub grass or mud. Just endless blooms, and among them scattered bones, as white as petals.

the sheep and the sea and the sweet meadow air.

I have to tell you I love living in a world without clocks. The shackles are gone. I'm a puppy unleashed in a meadow of time. As I watched the sun come up this morning, I felt a new sense of kinship with it. Something primitive stirred inside me, something that remembers the rising sun by itself, before there were minutes and schedules and calendars, before there were even words like morning.

A castle. Far off, in the hills in the distance. It was as if I were looking at a postcard from my childhood, the feeling was so familiar, and I thought for a moment that the castle had been built by me. I line up all the little knights that lay in the box in the basement: castle. And sheep. Sheep grazing in a nearby meadow. . . . The mortar shells began to land in that meadow, and the sheep were hit, and lay bloody, half-alive, their bowels spilling among the meadow flowers.

They were fletchers." "Fletchers?" "People who made arrows and feathered them—I can tell you that much. The village down the road is called Archerfield, so it's only reasonable to suppose that they practised archery in that big meadow down by the stream." "And the people in this house made the arrows!

Aline found herself walking quickly, almost running, to her favorite place by the river, where a wildflower meadow sloped down to tall grasses alive with meadow-brown and marbled-white butterflies.

I met a lady in the meads, Full beautiful — faery's child, Her hair was long, her foot was light, And her eyes were wild.

I would play ball with Catherine, and hide and seek: Not a very challenging game in an open meadow, but she was still at the age where she believed that if she shut her eyes and buried her head under a shawl then she could not be seen.

THE EARLY SKY WAS CLEAR AND DEEP. THE snow-mantled meadow lay as bright and clean as the morning after death, when time will have defeated time and all will have been redeemed.

Juniper, Pennyroyal, Lady's-vetch, … and the squat

The places have mingled," the goatherd said. "Cecilia is everywhere. Here, once upon a time, there must have been the Meadow of the Low Sage. My goats recognize the grass on the traffic island.

Moon hangs, almost full pieces of cloud scatter, glide in soft, summer breeze. We lay in our meadow listening to the sound of night....

It was a beautiful night, full moon, the meadow like silver and the housefronts throwing square black shadows sharp as cutouts on the grass.

There was so much time that marvelous summer. Day after day, mist rose from the meadow as the sky lightened and hedges, barns and woods took shape until, at last, the long curving back of the hills lifted away from the Plain. It was a sort of stage-magic.

The finest of the glacier meadow gardens lie ...imbedded in the upper pine forests like lakes of light.

On the fences the shiny blackbirds with red epaulets clicked their dry call. The meadowlarks sang like water, and the wild doves, concealed among the bursting leaves of the oaks, made a sound of restrained grieving.