Quotes About Nature

I'm damned if I'm going to be eaten by a bear when I'm naked. I'm sure it's a more pleasant experience dressed.

He looked around when he heard a window-rattling roar. Earthquake? Volcano? Nuclear war? Beaver, Peter told him. I don't care if it is Alaska, you don't have beavers big enough to sound like that.

Some prefer the wildness. Some the calm. There's enough of both in the world for everyone to have their choice. And enough time for any to change their mind.

Planting a flower's like opening a book, because either way you're starting something. And your garden's your library.

the rain was a fine thing. She often preferred it to the warm slant of sun and the clear brilliance of cloudless blue skies. The rain was a soft gray curtain, tucking her away from the world.

Why is it men think beating on each other fixes anything?' 'Why do women think eating chocolate does? It's the nature of the beast.

It feels like Scotland. Have you ever been? Mmmm. Twice. Have you? No. You should. It's your roots. You'll be surprised how much they tug at you when you breathe the air in the Highlands or look out at a lowland loch.

She stepped closer to the edge to watch the waves beat against rock. She felt that way, she mused. Battered by forces that were beyond her control, lapped in a violent, endless war with no choice but to stand.

And tis' my faith that every flower enjoys the air it breathes.

He understood and accepted that humans were basically ridiculous.

While the bells rang and echoed, she sat near the edge of the water. Here was peace, she thought, and joy. She would never, never take either for granted. She would remember to give something back every day. Even if it was just a heel of bread for the gulls. She would tend what she planted. She would remember to be kind, and never forget to offer a helping hand.

And 'tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes.   —WORDSWORTH

She saw him pause to watch it, going still with his hand on a stem and his other holding a seed head. And she wished she could paint. All those vivid colors of late summer, bold and strong, and the man so still, so patient, dropping his work to share his flowers with a bird.

Everything she'd ever read about love was true, she discovered. The sun shined brighter, the air smelled fresher. Flowers were more colorful, the songs of birds more musical.

Come away! O, human child! To the woods and waters wild, With a fairy hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand. —W. B. YEATS

Magic exists. Who can doubt it, when there are rainbows and wildflowers, the music of the wind and the silence of the stars?

Everyone feels hemmed in from time to time, no matter where they live." She laid a hand on his thigh. "When I'm feeling that way, I go to Ireland. Walk along an empty beach. When I do, I think of all the people who have walked there before, and will walk there again. Then it occurs to me that nothing is forever. No matter how bad, or how good, everything passes and moves on to another level." "'All things change; nothing perishes,'" he mumbled.

I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers; Of April, May, of June, and July flowers. I sing of Maypoles, Hock-carts, wassails, wakes, Of bridegrooms, brides, and of their bridal cakes. —ROBERT HERRICK

If you walked through the woods alone, in the dark, and didn't have some sense of wonder, it was hardly worth the trip.

sweetest of nature, and very likely promises of exotic sexual favors to convince Boyle to let anyone

There's a wilderness here. She knew it lived inside her.

Nature's a bitch and she barely tolerates us.

At forty-six, Rosalind Harper was a rose in full bloom. Not the hothouse sort, Stella mused, but one that weathered the elements, season after season, and came back, year after year, stronger and more beautiful. She

Heredity can be a strong pull. Heredity and early environment together, an almost irresistible pull. Those who break it, who make their own despite it, are very strong.