Quotes About Trees

Trees hang their branches

I'm crying all the time now. I cried all over the street when I left the Seattle Wobbly Hall. I cried listening to Bach. I cried looking at the happy flowers in my backyard, I cried at the sadness of the middle aged trees. Happiness exists I feel it. I cried for my soul, I cried for the world's soul. The world has a beautiful soul. God appearing to be seen and cried over. Overflowing heart of Paterson.

Right to business is it, and no time to be friendly?' Crummock stretched his neck to the side, his arms over his head, and lifted one foot and shook it around. 'I came here because I woke in the night, and I walked out into the darkness, and the moon whispered to me. In the forest, d'you see? In the trees, and in the voices of the owls in the trees, and d'you know what the moon said?' 'That you're mad as fuck?' growled Dow.

The beard was actually less Dumbledore, more Hemingway, but the eyes behind the lenses of his glasses were a brilliant shade of blue that naturally suggested a man who could cast runes and speak to trees. Harper

the plant that is the park's namesake. The Joshua trees look hilariously alien. Like Satan's telephone poles. They're primitive, irregularly limbed, their branches swooning up and down, sparsely covered with syringe-thin leaves—more like spines, Angie notes. Some mature trees have held their insane poses for a thousand years; they look as if they were on drugs and hallucinating themselves.

The lightning danced along the sky and sizzled among the trees, reverberated with butt-clenching snaps and crackles, and strobed briefly through the limbs and leaves.

In the morning light the land and trees and the surface of the river were the color of fresh blood.

Green is my favorite. And it's my favorite because it's the color of my wife's eyes, grass, trees, life, and money, and mother earth!

I hear hundreds of years of life. I hear wind and rain and fire and beetles. I hear the seasons changing and birds and squirrels. I hear the life of the trees this wood came from.

The force that through the green fuse drives the flowerDrives my green age; that blasts the roots of treesIs my destroyer.And I am dumb to tell the crooked roseMy youth is bent by the same wintry fever.

The force that through the green fuse drives the flower Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees Is my destroyer

My birthday began with the water- Birds and the birds of the winged trees flying my name Above the farms and the white horses And I rose In rainy autumn And walked abroad in a shower of all my days.

My birthday began with the water - Birds and the birds of the winged trees flying my name.

A wind has blown the rain away and blown the sky away and all the leaves away, and the trees stand. I think, I too, have known autumn too long.

He told us another day that views are really crowds--crowds of trees and houses and hills--and are bound to resemble each other, like human crowds--and that the power they have over us is sometimes supernatural, for the same reason. […] For a crowd is more than the people who make it up. Something gets added to it--no one knows how--just as something has got added to those hills.

The sun was already declining and each of the trees held a premonition of night.

T]here is only one perfect view--the view of the sky straight over our heads, and that all these views on earth are but bungled copies of it.... views are really crowds--crowds of trees and houses and hills... [f]or a crowd is more than the people who make it up. Something gets added to it.

sky. Those elms were Dryads—so Rickie believed or pretended, and the line between the two is subtler than we admit.

Six forest trees — that is a fact — grow out of one of the graves in Tewin churchyard. The grave's occupant — that is the legend — is an atheist, who declared that if God existed, six forest trees would grow out of her grave. These things in Hertfordshire; and farther afield lay the house of a hermit — Mrs. Wilcox had known him — who barred himself up, and wrote prophecies, and gave all he had to the poor.

Genius is a bend in the creek where bright water has gathered, and which mirrors the trees, the sky and the banks. It just does that because it is there and the scenery is there. Talent is a fine mirror with a silver frame, with the name of the owner engraved on the back.

No one know precisely how sentient is a pinyon pine, for example, or to what degree such woody organisms can feel pain or fear, and in any case the road builders had more important things to worry about, but this much is clearly established as scientific face: a living tree, once uprooted, takes many days to wholly die.

Because we need brutality and raw adventure, because men and women first learned to love in, under, and all around trees, because we need for every pair of feet and legs about ten leagues of naked nature, crates to leap from, mountains to measure by, deserts to finally die in when the heart fails.

High above our heads the owl hoots under the lost moon. A pre-dawn wind comes sifting and sighing through the cottonwood trees; the sound of their dry, papery leaves is like the murmur of distant water, or like the whispering of ghosts in an ancient, empty, condemned cathedral.

The cedars of Lebanon.