Quotes About Nature

Voluptuous bloom and fragrance rare The summer to its rose may bring; Far sweeter to the wooing air The hidden violet of spring. Still, still that lovely ghost appears, Too fair, too pure, to bid depart; No riper love of later years Can steal its beauty from the heart.

Love blooms all sorts of flowers, thorns, and nettles.

And he could glance at her continually as she bent over the fruit, while the level evening sunbeams stole through the thick apple-tree boughs and rested on her round cheek and neck as if they too were in love with her.

When strolling through the garden, If you should chance to see A ladybug out walking, Please say "hi" for me! For ladybugs are good bugs, They help the garden grow They will bring you good luck, So always say "hello!"

Oh, what is so rare as a day in May, When the great sun shines like this! When the soft winds woo, all tender and true, And breathe on one's cheek like a kiss! When the sky is so blue—ah—heaven's own blue! And the birds in the greening trees Are bursting their throats with rapturous notes...

May. — The very word makes the heart leap. Birds, Buds, Blossoms, Beauty! Break away from every bondage of circumstance or low spirits and go out into the sunshine. Answer back the bird-note in your heart, kiss your finger tips to every new blossom, and be a part of the spring.

There is a sweetness of May verging on June that no other time in the whole year can equal. And by sweetness is meant more than flower fragrance or honey taste; this is the greater sweetness of understanding and emotion, the glow of pleasure in being.

Spring breezes drift and tiny May birds chirp in morning's dawn-lit heart.

Meditation is not only sitting still like a Buddha-figure, nor is it thinking about something, for the Upanishads say that the stars, the trees, the rivers, and the mountains are meditating — unconsciously. Conscious meditation is a knack, and as an exercise it is a way of learning that Enlightenment comes to pass in us as much when we are doing nothing to produce it as when we are in the midst of activity.

The winter wind is wailing, sad and low, Across the lake and through the rustling sedge; The splendour of the golden after-glow, Gleams through the blackness of the great yew hedge; And this I read on earth and in the sky— "We ought to be together, you and I."

The laws of conscience, which we pretend to be derived from nature, proceed from custom...

Dawn-giddy birds chirp as if every morning is a special occasion. Wise, wise birds.

And this prime hour of fragrance is the hour so many miss upon beds of sloth, never half knowing what a beautiful, marvellous world is around them. Not all the long hours of day can possibly bring back again the charm and blessedness of this, either to the body or to the soul.

Every morning is a beautiful morning.

Campers: Nature's way of feeding mosquitoes.

Every beetle is a gazelle in the eyes of its mother.

He was one Who could not help it, for it was his nature To blossom into song, as 't is a tree's To leaf itself in April.

A bird does not sing because it has an answer. It sings because it has a song.

Give me a field where the unmowed grass grows...

Great things are done when men and mountains meet; These are not done by jostling in the street.

Nature is new every morning.

Happiness flutters in the air whilst we rest among the breaths of nature.

Seek the wilderness, for there is peace.

A setting sun still whispers a promise for tomorrow.