Quotes About Nature

The breeze was warm across my face, and even through the city lights I could see constellations: the Plough, Orion's belt. The pine tree at the bottom of the garden rustled like the sea, ceaselessly. For a moment I felt as if the universe had turned upside down and we were falling softly into an enormous black bowl of stars and nocturne, and I knew, beyond any doubt, that everything was going to be all right.

Knocknaree wood was the real thing, and it was more intricate and more secretive than I had remembered. It had its own order, its own fierce battles and alliances. I was an intruder here, now, and I had a deep prickling sense that my presence had instantly been marked and that the wood was watching me, with an equivocal collected gaze, not yet accepting or rejecting; reserving judgement.

So you just like the country." "I do, yeah. The city wouldn't suit me. Hearing other people's noise all day and all night.

Leave her to sleep, sliding away forever down her secret underground river, while breathing seasons spun dandelion seeds and moon phases and snowflakes above her head.

The wind blows itself out, and dawn comes to the window cold and still in a clear gold-green.

The sun has started to slide down the sky.

There's no bad mood that fresh air and exercise can't mend.

The greens and golds have thinned to watercolor; the sky is one scoured sweep of pale blue

Cal's eyes are still getting used to looking this far, after all those years of city blocks. Landscape is one of the few things he knows of where the reality doesn't let you down. The West of Ireland looked beautiful on the internet; from right smack in the middle of it, it looks even better.

at dawn rabbits bring their kittens out from the foundations to play on ancient graves.

The wych elm's whole crown was gone, only the trunk left, thick stubs of branches poking out obscenely. It should have looked pathetic, but instead it had a new, condensed force: some great malformed creature, musclebound and nameless, huddled in the darkness waiting for a sign.

Landscape is one of the few things he knows of where the reality doesn't let you down.

He feels no urge to understand the stars better; he's contented with them as they are.

Landscape is one of the few things he knows of where the reality doesn't let you down. The West of Ireland looked beautiful on the internet; from right smack int eh middle of it, it looks even better.

Murder is nature. Hadn't you noticed that? People maiming each other, raping each other, killing each other, doing all the stuff that animals do: that's nature in action. Nature is the devil I'm fighting, chum. Nature is my worst enemy. If it isn't yours, then you're in the wrong fucking gig.

Often misunderstood, Dionysus is far more than a wine deity. He is the Breaker of Chains, who rescues not only the flesh but the heart and spirit from too much of worldly regulations and duties. He is a god of joy and freedom. Any uncultivated, tangled, and primal woodland is very much his domain.

How massively the mountains stand, while low to the ground the sand blows. The sand blows on and on. And then there are no mountains, none at all, the sand has kissed and whispered them away. And still, the sand blows on.

Oh, for fuck's sake; sometimes a raccoon is just a raccoon!

and i don't think you should lie to me with any nature poems because you know you don't think sand is beautiful unless you are in a good mood, which you never are

Sam looked at the sky to see if there were a lot of stars. There seemed to be a normal amount of stars.

Fucked people, great weather.

Nature isn't mute," he thought in distracted review. Something mute wouldn't unfurl a universe in which to evolve singularityward. Something mute wouldn't speak people from atoms.

It was enough to make me feel like retreating into some wooded or snowy clime, where only the most determined photographers or Mary-hunters might find me.

The second way mindfulness disempowers schema thoughts has to do with the nature of attention itself.