Quotes About Nature

because of the nature of a hologram, as we saw in Part II, a change on any level is reflected throughout the whole.

The Age of Discovery in science is coming to a close, opening up an Age of Mastery … today, we are on the cusp of an epoch-making transition, from being passive observers of Nature to being active choreographers of Nature.

Man did not weave the web of life—he is merely a strand in it. Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself."1

Rosebush after rosebush fell before their marching feet, plowed down by the vanguard.

Delphinium scopulorum, better known as Rocky Mountain larkspur, wasn't just cardiotoxic; it had neuromuscular blocking effects, shutting down a body limb by limb until paralysis set in. Then death.

He was best known, however, for his instinct. Jade had instinct like a tiger on the prowl; it seemed to come from the very blood running in his veins.

According to Kant's late work on the Principles of Politics (1793), the irreducible problem of the human species is the following: the human being is an animal and thus, to live peacefully with other animals of its kind, absolutely needs a master.

Official education was telling people almost nothing of the nature of all those things on the seashores, and in the redwood forests, in the deserts and in the plains.

"One of the laws of nature, Gordon said, is that half the people have got to be below average. For a Gaussian distribution, yeah, Cooper said. Sad, though."

Around them small animals scampered along knotted cables and flaking vines, chirruping, squealing, venting yellow farts. Everywhere was animation, purpose, hurry. Momentum.

Nothing ruins an ecosystem more than cementing it over. So what f*#!-ing difference does it make if you toss a butt on the ground?

The whales do not sing because they have an answer, they sing because they have a song.

Letter 68 A pod of whales was lying like long reclining Buddhas on the sea. My sister and I put our ears to the bottom of the boat so we could listen to their songs. We turned to my grandfather and asked, "What do their song mean?" "The whales do not sing because they have an answer," he said. "They sing because they have a song.

Clouds tear over their tops at impossible speed, but inside the wind plays through my heartstrings. Patagonia-it feels like home

A Stellars jay hopped along behind him, watching closely for dropped crumbs. Its dark, he told the bird. Go to sleep. I've eaten already. Where were you? No food now. The bird persisted, however; it knew humans were liars.

I never use the words HUMANIST or HUMANITARIAN, as it seems to me that to be human is to be capable of the most heinous crimes in nature.

Time had not altered the beauty of his countenance, nor darkened the brightness of his eyes. He continued on the same, preserved in an incorruptible beauty in the corruptibleness of nature.

He was transfused throughout our nature, in order that our nature might by this transfusion of the Divine become itself divine, rescued as it was from death, and put beyond the reach of the caprice of the antagonist.

I want to study The book of the world: Every vanishing page.

I remember the cloud on its blue bicycle gliding over the leaves under the bare branches. You and I were walking. You wore your long green dress with the hem frayed so the loose threads seemed like tiny roots. We were holding hands when my hand became a yellow scarf and you stood waving it slowly. from "Daffodil Poem

Self-Portrait at Twenty" I stood inside myself like a dead tree or a tower. I pulled the rope of braided hair and high above me a bell of leaves tolled. Because my hand stabbed its brother, I said: Make it stone. Because my tongue spoke harshly, I said: Make it dust. And yet it was not death, but her body in its green dress I longed for. That's why I stood for days in the field until the grass turned black and the rain came.

The sky is gray and the big lake is duller and darker than the sky. In this dull light every color is accentuated, especially her skin. Her skin is white. The whiteness of her skin is like a thick, pale candle with a flame deep inside of it. In this light, the trees radiate greenness. Collected in: Sisters of the Earth: Women's Prose and Poetry About Nature by Lorraine Anderson

The truest art I would strive for in any work would be to give the page the same qualities as earth: weather would land on it harshly; light would elucidate the most difficult truths; wind would sweep away obtuse padding.

Everything in nature invites us constantly to be what we are. We are often like rivers: careless and forceful, timid and dangerous, lucid and muddied, eddying, gleaming, still.