Quotes About Nature

Autumn leaves blaze their swan song of colors and wait for Winter to wipe the slate clean.

Wild is the music of the autumnal wind Among the faded woods; but these blithe notes Strike the deserted to the heart;—I speak Of what I know, and what we feel within.

...autumn winds shaking color from the trees...

Autumn leaves Poets breathless

Autumn thanks the sun with an abundant harvest.

Winter dies into the spring, to be born again in the autumn.

Autumn will come whether or not you enjoyed summer.

Early autumn's peaceful slant of morning light — the first soul calm since late spring's farewell breezes.

Leaves, questioned by winter, fall.

In the desert, the slow quiet entrance of autumn is like breathing a sigh of relief — exhaling all the hot, stifling air built up over summer.

We want it to stay, but autumn always leaves. Beautifully.

...his babbling, berry lips...

There's a technical term for a sunny, warm day which follows two rainy days. It's called Monday.

And she was always cold toward bats, too, and could not bear them; and yet I think a bat is as friendly a bird as there is.

Beauty is the spirit of Nature peering through the gloom of sin.... Beauty is Nature's memory of Eden.

Beauty and folly are sisters.

Take time to smell the roses and eventually you'll inhale a bee.

One swallow will not make spring, nor one bee honey.

Bees that have honey in their mouths have stings in their tails.

...poetry is not greatly concerned with what a man thinks, but with what is so imbedded in his nature that it never occurs to him to question it: not a matter of which idea he holds, but of the depth at which he holds it.

I value my garden more for being full of blackbirds than cherries, and very frankly give them fruit for their songs.

I once had a sparrow alight upon my shoulder for a moment while I was hoeing in a village garden, and I felt that I was more distinguished by that circumstance than I should have been by any epaulet I could have worn. The squirrels also grew at last to be quite familiar, and occasionally stepped upon my shoe, when that was the nearest way.

Birds sing sweetly, but someone awakened by them at 5 A.M. of a summer morning might dispute the adverb.

Just then the branches lightly stirred… See, out o' the apple boughs a bird Bursts music-mad into the blue abyss...