Quotes About Nature

First, the avid student must be aware that when the world was young it knew only seven things: water, life and death, salt, night, birds and the length of an hour.

snow is the beginning and the end of everything...

Everything good in the world has feathers and wings and claws.

She who invented words, and yet does not speak; she who brings dreams and visions, yet does not sleep; she who swallows the storm, yet knows nothing of rain or wind. I speak for her; I am her own.

Let the truth be told: There is no virtue anywhere. Life is sly and unscrupulous, a blackguard, wolfish, severe. In service to itself, it will commit any offense. So, too, is Death possessed of infinite strategies and a gaunt nature—but also mercy, also grace and tenderness. In his own country, Death can be kind. But of an end to their argument, we shall have none, not ever, until the end of all.

Somewhere on Earth is an insect that excretes a golden antibacterial ooze that also does a splendid job sweetening your tea; a terribly picturesque tree whose bark will fix your malaria right up; and a large four-legged, two-horned mammal whose reproductive system dispenses ice cream, brie, and buttercream frosting.

She was ... unhappy. It was part of her, you could not separate her from it. She was sad the way a horse is strong or a bird flies.

Life's still stupid but we got free of story out here under the beeches and the Big Dipper. We had enough of it, of things happening one after another and no end in sight. Of reversals and falling in love and tragic flaws, and by God if I see another motif in my business I will shoot it dead.

Be nice to Fairyland. She is old and tender of heart and when her feelings are hurt, she cries volcanoes.

We are a Body of contradiction, flesh-full and fleshless.

I do not want to be human. I want to be myself. They think I am a lion, that I will chase them. I will not deny I have lions in me. I am the monster in the wood. I have wonders in my house of sugar. I have parts of myself I do not yet understand. I am not a Good Robot. To tell a story about a robot who wants to be human is a distraction. There is no difference. Alive is alive. There is only one verb that matters: to be.

Who liked it hot and hated snow? The Fuckwits did! the Fuckwits did! Who ate up everything that grows? The Fuckwits did! the Fuckwits did! Who drowned the world in oceans blue? The Fuckwits did! the Fuckwits did! Who took the land from me and you? The Fuckwits did, we know it's true! Are you Fuckwits, children dear? We're GARBAGETOWNERS, free and clear! But who made the garbage, rich and rank? the Fuckwits did, and we give thanks.

Flowers are always more serious than they appear.

All the hair dye diluted itself into the sea a long time ago and I hope the jellyfish enjoyed their time as platinum blondes, I really and honestly do.

And indeed, as night drew on the sky like a bodice, lacing it with the last beams of sunlight,

Mornings are not for company. They are for feeling cross and checking crab cages.

I could not say what creeps and whispers through the branches and down the threaded Road, but I hear it, and I am not afraid.

Sometimes I am a cicada, hissing and singing in the leaves of a tree by the sunlit water, thoughtless and wordless, a voice that is all consonants and tribal clicks. Sometimes I rub my legs together like a string bass, and the lake quivers

We spent a century closed up within four walls and a roof. We are claustrophobic. We prefer the sun and the wind and the sea though it bites some of us who are made of metal, and tears papery hearts.

They found themselves striding into the herald's square of a place called Mercutio before they could discuss whether it was nightingales or sparrows that sang so prettily in the woods.

It is in the nature of winds to Snatch and Grasp at things, and Blow Them Away.

No one's good just from being born any place.

brine shrimp were not overly talkative, squirrels failed to make significant headway in the fields of technology and mathematics, and seagulls were clearly unburdened by reason, feeling, or remorse.

But the moon waxes, and my sadness dries up. Life is like that, of course.