Quotes About Nature

Is it not possible that my activity as an objective observer of nature will weaken my strength as a human being?

sólo las naturalezas inferiores encuentran en otro la justificación de sus actos, sólo las naturalezas inferiores encuentran las premisas de sus actos fuera de sí mismas.

I am by nature so polemically constituted that I only feel myself really in my element when I am surrounded by human mediocrity and paltriness.

Naisissa tapaa usein huumoria, mutta ei koskaan ironiaa. Puhdas naisellinen luonto pitää ironiaa jonkinlaisena julmuutena.

Raptors like these falcons were solitary by nature; they didn't even like each other except in the mating season, much less humans. All you could teach them was that doing what humans wanted would get them more of what they wanted, which was to kill, eat, mate and sleep.

Yes, she loved the Lord and Lady in Their many forms . . . but those forms spanned the universe of space and time that sprang from Them, and They could be as terrible as the fiery death of suns, as inexorable as Time. A mother's kiss on her child's face came from Them, but so also the glaciers that grind continents to dust.

And doesn't everything die and return; the grass, the trees, the fields? Why not us?

Oh Powers of Earth and Sky, what is it that you've brought back, to run wild once more upon the ridge of the world?

If you have to farm, the Willamette is about the best place in the world to do it.

And yet half a beast is the great God Pan To laugh as he sits by the river; Making a legend out of a man. The true Gods weep for the loss and the pain For the reed that will never grow again As a reed, with the reeds, by the river.?

from that valley near the Tetons, over past the Wind River

though. Here, besides books like Langer's Grow It!, Livingston's Guide to Edible Plants and Animals, Emery's Encyclopedia of Country Living and of course Seymour's Forgotten Arts and Crafts—their

Peace to the sky Sky to the earth Earth beneath sky Strength in all.

Mother nature is a fickle and forgetful bitch, she snapped. She needs a helping hand and I am trying to hurry her along for their sake.

It is said that Mathematics is the language of nature. If so, Physics is its poetry.

We were language's magpies by nature, stealing whatever sounded bright and shiny.

An iceberg is water striving to be land; a mountain, especially a Himalaya, especially Everest, is land's attempt to metamorphose into sky; it is grounded in flight, the earth mutated--nearly--into air, and become, in the true sense, exalted. Long before she ever encountered the mountain, Allie was aware of its brooding presence in her soul.

Only under extreme pressure can we change into that which it is in our most profound nature to become . . . That is what people get wrong about transformation. We're not all shallow proteans, forever shifting shape. We're not science fiction. It's like when coal becomes diamond. It doesn't afterwards retain the possibility of change. Squeeze it as hard as you like, it won't turn into a rubber ball, or a Quattro Stagione pizza, or a self-portrait by Rembrandt. It's done .

Only the foolish, blinded by language's conventions, think of fire as red or gold. Fire is blue at its melancholy rim, green in its envious heart. It may burn white, or even, in its greatest rages, black.

Sometimes by a woodland stream he watched the water rush over the pebbled bed, its tiny modulations of bounce and flow. A woman's body was like that. If you watched it carefully enough you could see how it moved to the rhythm of the world, the deep rhythm, the music below the music, the truth below the truth. He believed in this hidden truth the way other men believed in God or love, believed that truth was in fact always hidden, that the apparent, the overt, was invariably a kind of lie.

Can one drown in one's element... If fish can drown in water, can human beings suffocate in air?

From birds she learned how to sing; from cats she learned a form of dangerous independence.

After a winter's gestation in its eggshell of ice, the valley had beaked its way out into the open, moist and yellow.

Perhaps we, who are language animals, possess a song and story instinct; we need and move toward stories and songs not because we are taught to do so but because it is in our nature to need them.