Quotes About Forest

He had the impression of Shylah pouting, and that made him happy. Just talking to her made him happy. The fact that she would circle around, hunt and find the man watching from the forest, was a complete turn-on. He liked that this woman would be his partner.

And stop with that cute little grin you always get in your mind. You think you can get around me with it, but you can't." He tugged at her arm, his black eyes restless, searching the forest around them. He could still feel the dark malevolence through Shea. "I can always get around you, little red hair," he answered tenderly. "You are not capable of holding a grudge.

Turn here. I'm going to have to carry you up." "Don't talk. You always get your way when you talk." She walked with him a few more yards and stopped, staring up a sheer cliff face that seemed to go up forever. There had been no division between the forest and the rock face to warn her. "Up what? Not that." The dark, malevolent feeling had faded away. Whoever it was no longer was watching them. She could tell. "I feel another argument coming on.

One last thing," Mikhail was gone almost before she could blink, and returned nearly as fast. He took her left hand in his. "Your people will recognize this as a clear sign that you are taken." She hid her smile. He was so territorial, like a wild animal staking his claim. Like the wolves roaming so freely in his forest.

I want to take you into the forest, Raven, my forest, where the trees are thick and few people have ever set foot.

Rescued me from the darkest heart of the forest, fought off brigands, pygmies, and a brace of tigers to bring me here. But don't let him talk his Welsh at you, one tiger was vanquished in a sluice of phlegm and mortally beaten with consonants.

The party finally arrives in Du Weldenvarden, the forest of the elves. At Ellesméra, Eragon and Saphira meet Islanzadí, queen of the elves, who, they learn, is Arya's mother. They also meet with the Cripple Who Is Whole: an ancient elf named Oromis. He too is a Rider. Oromis and his dragon, Glaedr, have kept their existence hidden from Galbatorix for the past hundred years while they searched for a way to overthrow the king.

Down the rushing mere-wash Of Kíl'f's welling blood, We ride the twisting timbers, For hearth, clan, and honor. Under the ernes' sky-vat, Through the ice-wolves' forest bowls, We ride the gory wood, For iron, gold, and diamond. Let hand-ringer and bearded gaper fill my grip And battle-leaf guard my stone As I leave the halls of my fathers For the empty land beyond.

I will not deny, however, that in the course of the journey, he sometimes stopped at the edge of a meadow, at the entrance to a forest, to gather some herb (always the same one, I believe): and he would then chew it with an absorbed look. He kept some of it with him, and ate it in the moments of greatest tension (and we had a number of them at the abbey!).

I have seen many other fragments of the cross, in other churches. If all were genuine, our Lord's torment could not have been on a couple of planks nailed together, but on an entire forest.

A soft, gentle light fell on the forest-floor, diffused by a screen of foliage. The air itself was thick and congealed; a fighter-pilot, accustomed to a rushing wind, felt this very acutely.

The cities make ferocious men because they may corrupt man. The mountain, the sea, the forest, make savage men; they development fierce side, but often without destroying the humane side.

The poacher works in the woods, and the smuggler in the mountains or on the sea. The towns make men ferocious because it makes them corrupt. Mountains, sea, and forest make men reckless. They stir the wildness of men's nature, but do not necessarily destroy what is human

The cities make ferocious men because they make corrupt men. The mountain, the sea, the forest, make savage men; they develop the fierce side, but often without destroying the humane side.

This took place in the depths of a forest, at night, in winter, far from all human sight; she was a child of eight: no one but God saw that sad thing at the moment. And her mother, no doubt, alas! For there are things that make the dead open their eyes in their graves.

The towns make men ferocious because they make them corrupt. Mountains, sea, and forest make men reckless. They stir the wildness of men's nature, but do not necessarily destroy what is human.

And though grief weighed her down—she couldn't take a step without seeing Sister Maria Andrzeja's empty eyes—she also felt lighter, untethered at last from a past that had always been an invisible weight. She was not Jerusza's—she never had been, and she knew that now. But neither was she her German father's. She belonged only to herself, a dove of the dark forest, the forest that called to her now.

A LIGHT mist condensed on Sonya Vance's windshield, turning the forested mountains

A LIGHT mist condensed on Sonya Vance's windshield, turning the forested mountains around her

De o parte si de alta a soselei, pe portiunea acoperita cu palcuri mohorate de padure pana la linia orizontului, totul este plin cu noroi, iar pentru ca noaptea care se pogoara dizolva consistenta, absoarbe culoarea, transforma incremenirea in plutire, pietrificand tot ce misca, soseaua pare o nava ce stationeaza, leganandu-se misterios in mijlocul unui ocean de mal, mare cat o lume intreaga.

"It's a mystery," replied the Lion. "I suppose I was born that way. All the other animals in the forest naturally expect me to be brave, for the Lion is everywhere thought to be the King of Beasts. I learned that if I roared very loudly every living thing was frightened and got out of my way."

I miss sunrise even more. The green scent of dawn in the forest? The color blushing back into the world, different every day.

No, I have to lure him out, like a will-o'-the-wisp, tease him deeper and deeper into the forest until he is lost and doomed. Without the forest or the doom—just the luring. Like a Venus flytrap that says I am a delicious flower come taste me and then snap! Devour. Without the devouring. Well, maybe a little devouring.

Prague entranced you, lured you in, like the mythic fey who trick travelers deep into forests until they're lost beyond hope.