Quotes About Nature

There's no key to the woods and fields.

There's no key to the woods and fields.

Pass not beneath, O Caravan, or pass not singing. Have you heard That silence where the birds are dead yet something pipeth like a bird?

the water sounds like fall. Less celebratory, more resigned.

The air, the water, and the ground are free gifts to man, and no one has the power to portion them out in parcels. Man must drink, breath, and walk - and therefore each has a right to his share of earth.

The deer that goes too often to the lick meets the hunter at last!

nothing that crawls the earth is for my sport.

I want no thunder or lightning to remind me of my God, nor am I as apt to bethink on most of all His goodness in trouble and tribulations as on a calm, solemn, quiet day in a forest, when His voice is heard in the creaking of a dead branch or in the song of a bird, as much in my ears at least as it is ever heard in uproar and gales.

The arches of the woods, even at high noon, cast their sombre shadows on the spot, which the brilliant rays of the sun that struggled through the leaves contributed to mellow, and if such an expression can be used, to illuminate. It was probably from a similar scene that the mind of man first got its idea of the effects of gothic tracery and churchly hues, this temple of nature producing some such effect, so far as light and shadow were concerned, as the well-known offspring of human invention.

Tis true, the Delawares call me Deerslayer, but it's not so much because I'm pretty fatal with the venison as because that while I kill so many bucks and does, I've never yet taken the life of a fellow-creatur'. They say their traditions do not tell of another who had shed so much blood of animals that had not shed the blood of man.

Walking about streets, going to church of Sundays, and hearing sermons, never yet made a man of a human being. Send the boy out upon the broad ocean, if you wish to open his eyes, and let him look upon foreign nations, or what I call the face of nature, if you wish him to understand his own character.

Judith:And where, then, is your sweetheart, Deerslayer? Deerslayer: She's in the forest, Judith - hanging from the boughs of the trees, in a soft rain - in the dew on the open grass - the clouds that float about in the blue heavens - the birds that sing in the woods - the sweet springs where I slake my thirst - and in all the other glorious gifts that come from God's Providence!

Indijanac je stvorenje što ?ete ga prije osjetiti nego vidjeti.

My eyes are true and as delicate as a hummingbird's in the day; but they are nothing worth boasting of by starlight.

The voice of him, who made the earth, whispereth in the winds; his breath is the movement of nature!

has dropped into the river, said Hurry, after looking carefully along

for though the quiet of deep solitude reigned in that vast and nearly boundless forest, nature was speaking with her thousand tongues in the eloquent language of night in a wilderness. The air sighed through ten thousand trees, the water ripped, and at places even roared along the shores; and now and then was heard the creaking of a branch or a trunk, as it rubbed against some object similar to itself, under the vibrations of a nicely balanced body.

Even the robin and the martin come back, year after year, to their old nests; shall a woman be less true hearted than a bird?

for flowers that will bloom in a garden will die on a heath...

?uo sam ve? šumu gdje jau?e poput ?ovjeka koji se na?e u nevolji; slušao sam kako vjetar pjeva svoju pjesmu me?u granjem drve?a; slušao sam munju kako praska poput upaljena grmlja, kad bljuje iskre i rašljaste plamenove, i sve mi se to ?inilo tek kao volja Onoga koji drži sve stvari u svojoj ruci.

So much the better — so much the better; for I have always found that a conceited man never knows content. All things prove it. Why have we not the wings of the pigeon, the eyes of the eagle, and the legs of the moose, if it had been intended that man should be equal to all his wishes?

Así, nosotros tenemos siempre los ojos vueltos hacia el sol que surge y no hacia el que se esconde y que besa vuestros lagos de aguas dulces donde un mohícano moriría.

It's cold and it's winter and the world has gone to sleep

I turn and I look back across the lake. The mist is gone and the ice diminished, the drip of the icicles quick and heavy. The sun is up and the sky is blue empty blue light blue clear blue. I would drink the sky if I could drink it, drink it and celebrate it and let it fill me and become me. I am getting better. Empty and clear and light and blue. I am getting better.