Quotes About Trees

Indeed, I find that distance lends perspective and I often write better of a place when I am some distance from it. One can be so overwhelmed by the forest as to miss seeing the trees.

Raindrops felt his cheeks with blind, questing fingers...the black trunks of the trees were like iron bars against the gray of gathering pools. Radigan

Never did a tree fall that I did not feel a pang, and rightly so, for when the trees are gone, man will also be gone, for without them we cannot live. The very air we breathe comes from trees, and when they are gone, the air will thicken and men will die and our great towers of stone will fall away to rubble and there will be only weeds, and then grass to cover the unsightly mounds we leave behind.

Yet there was beauty everywhere and we were lonely on the river. The forest was dark and deep with shadows where cypress trees were festooned with veils of Spanish moss. Water oak, hickory, tupelo gum, and many other trees clustered the banks, and hummingbirds danced above the water, opalescent feathers catching the light as if they played with their own beauty.

She slowed to pick her way through places where water was seeping up through the mats of dying grass. Rain tapping through the brilliant leaves the only sound. She stopped. The sense of something there, with her, all around her, swirling and seething with energy. How intimately the trees seized the earth. How exquisitely she was included. Patrice closed her eyes and felt a tug. Her spirit poured into the air like song.

Trees cause more pollution than automobiles do.

where the preservation of a natural resource like the redwoods is concerned, that there is a common sense limit. I mean, if you've looked at a hundred thousand acres or so of trees — you know, a tree is a tree, how many more do you need to look at?

Of all the trees that grow so fair Old England to adorn, Greater are none beneath the Sun Than Oak, and Ash and Thorn.

Her work in the garden was almost at a standstill now; the January and February days were all alike, they went like a procession of the nuns themselves, unrelieved by any colour, there seemed to be no life or movement in the earth but the wind tearing at the trees and bamboos.

We know the force of gravity, but not its origins; and to explain why we become attached to our birthplaces we pretend that we are trees and speak of roots. Look under your feet. You will not find gnarled growths sprouting through the soles. Roots, I sometimes think, are a conservative myth, designed to keep us in our places.

Neela had dressed for beauty, not for warmth, and the afternoon had lost its glow. Solanka took off his coat and put it over her trembling shoulders. All around them in the park the colours were fading. The world became a place of blacks and greys. Women's clothes – unusually for New York, it had been a season of bright colours – faded to monochrome. Under a gunmetal sky, the green leached out of the spreading trees.

I am comparing gravity with belonging... Both phenomena observably exist... but neither is understood...We know the force of gravity but not its origins; and to explain how we become attached to our birth places we pretend that we are trees and speak of roots. Look under your feet. You will not find gnarled growths sprouting through the soles. Roots, I sometimes think, are a conservative myth, designed to keep us in our places. -- from Home and Shame

El calor del día había ido declinando gradualmente, y se principiaba a sentir la ligera brisa, que parece la respiración de la naturaleza, exhalándose después de la calurosa siesta del mediodía; soplo agradable que refresca las costas del Mediterráneo, y lleva de ribera en ribera el perfume de los árboles, mezclado al ocre olor del mar.

Dac? e vorba de spectacol, îmi place mai mult s? privesc aceast? îngr?m?dire de copaci negri, printre care scânteie ici-colo câte-o lumini?? care trece ca un ochi înroÈ™it, când deschis, când închis.

Nimic nu-mi poate fi mai pl?cut, drag? prietene, decât s? m? reîntorc în singur?tatea mea, sub copacii mei stufoÈ™i, pe ??rmul Loarei. Dac? Dumnezeu e cel mai mare t?m?duitor al r?nilor sufleteÈ™ti, natura îÈ›i d?ruieÈ™te leacurile cele mai neîntrecute.

At midnight the wind in the trees can sound like the ocean. The moonlight can make a road appear as endless as the sea.

the summer of the gypsy moths when all the trees in their yard were bare, the leaves chewed by caterpillars. You could hear crunching in the night. You could see silvery cocoon webbing in porch rafter and strung across stop signs.

This is the day of wonders. The land is covered with trees like a head with hair and behind the ship the sun rises tipping the top trees with light. The sky is clear and shining as a china plate and the water playfully ruffled with wind. Every wisp of fog is gone and the air is full of the resinous smell of the trees. Seabirds are flashing above the sails golden like creatures from Heaven, but the sailors raise a few shots to keep them from the rigging.

Then there was silence, the air like ice. Brittle-looking birch trees with black marks on their white bark, and some kind of small untidy evergreens rolled up like sleepy bears. The frozen lake not level but mounded along the shore, as if the waves had turned to ice in the act of falling.

The moon came up through the black trees on top of the rocks, and looked so huge, so solemn and thrilling, that there were cries of amazement. What's that? And even when it had climbed higher in the sky and shrunk to a more normal size people acknowledged it from time to time, saying 'the harvest moon' or 'did you see it when it first came up?

She look so stylish it like the trees all round the house draw themself up tall for a better look.

If I could be the mother of Wind I would blow all fear away from you. If I could be the mother of Water I would wash out the path that frightens you. If I were the mother of Trees I would plant my tallest children around your feet that you might climb beyond all danger. But alas, I am only a mother of humans whose magic powers have vanished since we allow our littlest ones to face injustice suffering & the unholiest of terrors alone.

She look so stylish it like the trees all round the house draw themselves up tall for a better look. Now I see she stumble, tween the two men. She don't seem that well acquainted with her feets. Close up I see all this yellow powder caked up on her face. Red rouge. She look like she ain't long for this world but dressed well for the next.

The maples had sheltered the west side of our house for over a hundred years, and left, as fallen trees do, a void so absolute you couldn't possibly have imagined it beforehand.