Quotes About Nature

What did you say, Gram? About there being no church out here?" "I said that the sky was the roof of my cathedral and the desert was its floor and any time I paid attention, I could feel a higher power all around me.

Dad and Gram didn't take a single day on the ranch for granted. Regardless of the weather, the greeted each morning as if they'd embrace it, filling their eyes with a vaulting sky and sagebrush-coverd ridges. Then they gave silent prayer of thanks for living the life they loved.

My favorite weather is bird-chirping weather.

A cloudless plain blue sky is like a flowerless garden.

Clouds are the sky's imagination.

Only those in tune with nature seem to pick up on the energy in wind. All sorts of things get swept off in the breeze — ghosts, pieces of soul, voices unsung, thoughts repressed, love uncherished, and a thousands galore of spiritual ether.

Just before dawn I have the world all to myself.

Under the giving snow blossoms a daring spring.

Ink on paper is as beautiful to me as flowers on the mountains; God composes, why shouldn't we?

Autumn bowed to place a beautiful crown on the Queen of Morning, and her velvet robes sway merrily in the chilly breeze.

You need special shoes for hiking — and a bit of a special soul as well.

The birds of hope are everywhere, listen to them sing.

...gorgeous bright blue sky with some cloudacious beautiness on the fringe.

Whenever I see sunbeams coming through clouds, it always looks to me like God shining himself down onto us. The thing about sunbeams is they're always there even though we can't always see them. Same with God.

Plants give us oxygen for the lungs and for the soul.

Ever felt an angel's breath in the gentle breeze? A teardrop in the falling rain? Hear a whisper amongst the rustle of leaves? Or been kissed by a lone snowflake? Nature is an angel's favorite hiding place.

Shedding late-summer tears for the end of cherry season. Patiently and hopefully waiting for pumpkin pie season.

Time is an old firmly rooted tree; we are the breeze rustling its leaves.

Under every full moon are lovers in love, and under every bright sun two friends smile as one.

The green grass and the happy skies court the fluttering butterflies.

The color of springtime is in the flowers; the color of winter is in the imagination.

In springtime, love is carried on the breeze. Watch out for flying passion or kisses whizzing by your head.

Shall we compare our hearts to a garden — with beautiful blooms, straggling weeds, swooping birds and sunshine, rain — and most importantly, seeds.

Grow flowers of gratitude in the soil of prayer.