Quotes About Nature

The girl was very pretty and her body was like a clear mountain river of skin and muscle flowing over rocks of bone and hidden nerves.

I had become so quiet and so small in the grass by the pond that I was barely noticeable, hardly there… I just kept getting smaller and smaller beside the pond, more and more unnoticed in the darkening summer grass until I disappeared into the 32 years that have passed since then…

Deer Tracks: Beautiful, sobbing high-geared fucking and then to lie silently like deer tracks in the freshly-fallen snow beside the one you love. That's all.

The old drunk told me about trout fishing. When he could talk, he had a way of describing trout as if they were a precious and intelligent metal.

It's all right, she said. It's all right. That was really a very nice sound. There should be a bird that does that: that sings when you are impotent.

One could think of seagulls. It's really a very simple thing to do… seagulls: past, present and future passing almost like drums to the sky.

Once, while cleaning the trout before I went home in the almost night, I had a vision of going over to the poor graveyard and gathering up grass and fruit jars and tin cans and markers and wilted flowers and bugs and weeds and clods and going home and putting a hook in the vise and tying a fly with all that stuff and then going outside and casting it up into the sky, watching it float over clouds and then into the evening star. (from Trout Fishing on the Bevel, page 21)

Wood We age in darkness like wood and watch our phantoms change their clothes of shingles and boards for a purpose that can only be described as wood.

My sperm came out into the water, unaccustomed to the light, and instantly it became a misty, stringy kind of thing and swirled out like a falling star, and I saw a dead fish come forward and float into my sperm, bending it in the middle.

Wherever you are, we must do the best we can. It is so far to travel, and we have nothing here to travel, except watermelon sugar..

You had to be a plumber to fish that creek.

Bir günün olaÄŸanüstü olabilmesi için bir ÅŸeftalinin yettiÄŸi bir geçmiÅŸ zamanda bir yaz günü, s?ran?n sonunun gelmesini sab?rla bekleyen ve ÅŸeftalilerle dolu poÅŸetler ta??yan bir geyik sürüsüyle birlikte bir ren geyiÄŸi istasyonuna doÄŸru yol alan bir trendeydim sanki.

The fish was a twelve-inch rainbow trout with a huge hump on its back. A hunchback trout.

I remember mistaking an old woman for a trout stream in Vermont, and I had to beg her pardon. Excuse me, I said, I thought you were trout stream. I'm not, she said.

Certainly nothing is unnatural that is not physically impossible.

He chuckles at all the people he knows who have taken out bank loans to travel to exotic places like Europe but who have never seen a single state park right here near home.

They will pass away just as surely as the sun sets in the evening.

Don't talk rot, Whitney, said Rainsford. You're a big-game hunter, not a philosopher. Who cares how a jaguar feels?

Wildlife is and should be useless in the same way art, music, poetry and even sports are useless. They are useless in the sense that they do nothing more than raise our spirits, make us laugh or cry, frighten, disturb and delight us. They connect us not just to what's weird, different, other, but to a world where we humans do not matter nearly as much as we like to think. And that should be enough.

It's part of a woman's hypergamous nature to always seek the best male that she could get.

It's part of a woman's hypergamous nature to always seek the best male that she could get. Warring tribe wins? Then the men in that tribe now become her best option for survival. Men have always been disposable protectors. Women have always selected the best men for survival. Even if that meant becoming a war bride to a conquering army that killed off, or enslaved, their family.

Women are born; men must be made.

He detested the inefficiency of unregulated capitalism only less than he dreaded the waste and suffering of a proletarian revolution,' wrote Kingsley Martin, who edited the New Statesman when Keynes was chairman of its publishing company: 'he therefore made it his life's work to save capitalism by altering its nature.

The world and the universe is an extremely beautiful place, and the more we understand about it the more beautiful does it appear.