Quotes About Nature

The sun is new each day.

Look to the East, where up the lucid sky The morning climbs! The day shall yet be fair.

Swans sing before they die - 'twere no bad thing, did certain persons die before they sing.

Sentimentally I am disposed to harmony; but organically I am incapable of a tune.

There be three things which are too wonderful for me, yea, four which I know not: the way of an eagle in the air; the way of a serpent upon a rock; the way of a ship in the midst of the sea; and the way of a man with a maid.

The chess-board is the world; the pieces are the phenomena of the universe; the rules of the game are what we call the Laws of Nature. The player on the other side is hidden from us. We know that his play is always fair, just and patient. But also we know, to our cost, that he never overlooks a mistake, or makes the smallest allowance for ignorance.

There is nothing in which the birds differ more from man than the way in which they can build and yet leave a landscape as it was before.

Climb the mountains and get their good tidings: Nature's peace will flow into you as sunshine into flowers, the winds will blow their freshness into you, and the storms, their energy and cares will drop off like autumn leaves.

The sun gives us light, but the moon provides inspiration. If you look at the sun without shielding your eyes, you'll go blind. If you look at the moon without covering your eyes, you'll become a poet.

Pleasure for an hour, a bottle of wine; pleasure for a year, marriage; pleasure for a lifetime, a garden.

The next time it begins to rain ... lie down on your belly, nestle your chin into the grass, and get a frog's-eye view of how raindrops fall . . . The sight of hundreds of blades of grass bowing down and popping back up like piano keys strikes me as one of the merriest sights in the world.

When I would recreate myself, I seek the darkest wood, the thickest and most interminable, and to the citizen, most dismal swamp. I enter a swamp as a sacred place - a sanctum sanctorum. There is the strength, the marrow of Nature.

It is the hour when from the boughs The nightingale's high note is heard; It is the hour when lovers' vows Seem sweet in every whisper'd word.

Hark! that's the nightingale, Telling the self-same tale Her song told when this ancient earth was young: So echoes answered when her song was sung In the first wooded vale.

The angel of spring, the mellow-throated nightingale.

The drops of rain make a hole in the stone not by violence, but by oft falling.

The Owl and the Pussy-Cat went to sea In a beautiful pea-green boat.

The eye that mocketh at his father, and despiseth to obey his mother, the ravens of the valley shall pick it out, and the young eagles shall eat it.

The difference between landscape and landscape is small, but there's a great difference in the beholders.

The breaking waves dashed high On a stern and rock-bound coast. And the woods against a stormy sky, Their giant branches toss'd.

Praise the sea, but keep on land.

Character is simply habit long enough continued.

Time itself is an element.

Time is a river without banks.