Quotes About Nature

The girls emerged in their carboncopy dresses and the boy came out of the woods stiffly and looking churlish and sullen and strange, like a child pervert.

Some time after midnight on the twenty-first of December it began to snow. By morning in the gray spectral light of a brief and obscure winter sun the fields lay deadwhite and touched with a phosphorous glow as if producing illumination of themselves, and the snow was still wisping down thickly, veiling the trees beyond the creek and the mountain itself, falling softly, and softly, faintly sounding in the immense white silence.

We might have very different notions about the nature of the oncoming night. But as darkness descends does it matter?

The trees were all encased in ice, limbless-looking where their black trunks rose in aureoles of lace, bright seafans shimmering in the wind and tinkling with an endless bell-like sound, a carillon in miniature, and glittering shards of ice falling in sporadic hail everywhere through the woods and marking the snow with incomprehensible runes.

The drought didnt know when the last one was and nobody knew when the next one was coming.

The freedom of birds is an insult to me. I'd have them all in zoos.

John Grady rode through the willows and down the arroyo following the occasional bare footprint in the rain spotted loam until he came upon Blevins crouched under the roots of a dead cottonwood in a caveout where the arroyo turned and fanned out onto the plain. He was naked save for an outsized pair of stained undershorts. What the hell are you doin? said John Grady. Blevins sat gripping his thin white shoulders in either hand. Just settin here, he said.

Sutree se detiene junto a una vieja cripta que un árbol ha desmantelado a medias en su crecer. Dentro no hay nada. Ni huesos ni polvo. Como sin duda son los muertos después de la muerte. La muerte es lo que los vivos llevan consigo. Un estado de pánico, como un presagio inquietante de un recuerdo amargo. Pero los muertos no recuerdan, y la nada no es una maldición. En absoluto.

Night fell long and cool through the woods about him and a spectral quietude set in. As if something were about that crickets and nightbirds held in dread.

He walked out on the prairie and stood holding his hat like some supplicant to the darkness over them all and he stood there for a long time.

I didnt know you were a bird watcher. I'm not. I'm a forever watcher.

Cormac McCarthy

Let's go. You can sleep in the winter.

The wolf is made he way the world is made. You cannot touch the world. You cannot hold it in your hand for it is made of breath only.

Under the hooves of the horses the alabaster sand shaped itself in whorls strangely symmetric like iron filings in a field and these shapes flared and drew back again, resonating upon that harmonic ground and then turning to swirl away over the playa. As if the very sediment of things contained yet some residue of sentience. As if in the transit of those riders were a thing so profoundly terrible as to register even to the uttermost granulation of reality

It makes no difference what men think of war, said the judge. War endures. As well ask men what they think of stone. War was always here. Before man was, war waited for him. The ultimate trade awaiting its ultimate practitioner. That is the way it was and will be. That way and not some other way. He

This is the nature of war, whose stake is at once the game and the authority and the justification. Seen so, war is the truest form of divination.

Deer and hare and dove and groundvole all richly empaneled on the air for her delight, all nations of the possible world ordained by God of which she was one among and not separate from.

The world has created no living thing that it does not intend to destroy. I suppose that's true. What then? Is that all that the world has in mind? If the world has a mind then it's all worse than we thought.

Entonces despertó y se quedó contemplando las estrellas a través del zarzal de ramas de los árboles e intentó dilucidar qué sitio podía ser aquel donde se encontraba Boyd, pero Boyd estaba muerto y hecho una piltrafa envuelto en el petate aguas arriba entre los árboles, y Billy bajó la cara y se echó a llorar.

Across the yard, brilliant against the façade of pines beyond, a cardinal shot like a drop of blood.

Cormac McCarthy

Blue as the evening sky, blue as cranesbill flowers, blue as the lips of drowned men and the heart of a blaze burning with too hot a flame. Yes, sometimes it was hot in this world, too. Hot and cold, light and dark, terrible and beautiful, it was everything all at once. It wasn't true that you felt nothing in the land of Death. You felt and heard and smelled and saw, but your heart remained strangely calm, as if it were resting before the dance began again. Peace. Was that the word?

He wants to be grown-up. How different dreams can be! Nature will soon grant your wish.