Quotes About Nature

And so, every artist dips his brush in his own soul, and paints his own nature into his pictures.

An artist cannot talk about his art any more than a plant can discuss horticulture.

Painting is my escape from reality. I can literally create any kind of world that I want — with tranquility and peace. All my little animal friends, they all live right here with me.

Good architecture lets nature in.

If your storm has lightning and rainbows — Be glad, be glad.

Keep a green tree in your heart and perhaps a singing bird will come.

The change always comes about mid-August, and it always catches me by surprise. I mean the day when I know that summer is fraying at the edges, that September isn't far off and fall is just over the hill or up the valley.

Besides the autumn poets sing, A few prosaic days A little this side of the snow And that side of the haze...

Autumn is the season of change.

There are two times of year: autumn and waiting for autumn.

[T]here is a harmony In autumn, and a lustre in its sky...

...the world reveals itself in its true dimensions in the Autumn...

You will find the blue hills... with the autumnal shadows silently sleeping on them, and there will be a glory lingering round the day, so you'll know autumn has been here; and the setting sun will tell you...

The rich death-colours of autumn were like an infinitely sad melody, like a sad song of unavailing regret; but in those passionate tints, in the red and the gold of the apples, in the varied hue of the fallen leaves, there was still something which forbade one to forget that in the death and decay of nature there is always the beginning of other life.

Around and around the house the leaves fall thick—but never fast, for they come circling down with a dead lightness that is sombre and slow. Let the gardener sweep and sweep the turf as he will, and press the leaves into full barrows, and wheel them off, still they lie ankle-deep.

"I'm dreading fall. It is a terrifying season," he says... "Everything shriveling up and dying." I don't know how to answer. Fall has always been my favorite season. The time when everything bursts with its last beauty, as if nature had been saving up all year for the grand finale. I've never thought to be frightened of it.

Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away; Lengthen night and shorten day! Every leaf speaks bliss to me, Fluttering from the autumn tree...

shorter days seem a little ominous shadows are becoming autumn'ish

Autumn is the hush before winter.

Autumn breathes in golden sunshine and breathes out a frosty chill.

We are having such lovely weather — the air is sweet and still — now and then a gay leaf falling... a thousand little painters are tingeing hill and dale... autumn is most beautiful...

Autumn is Spring turned antique.

in the wheel of Earth's years we watch as Autumn's clock tick-tocks in tiny goldenrod September petal'd seconds frosty trees bleed scarlet hours through veins of October leaves amber minutes wither and fall drifting in November's breeze and the silent strike of midwinter turns December's snowflake gears

The edge of autumn frosts with winter's chilled breath.