Quotes About Nature

I hear the passing echoes of winter and feel the warming springtime sun.

As Earth sways us from winter to spring Nature begins her grace of glorious green

The first sparrow of spring! The year beginning with younger hope than ever!... The brooks sing carols and glees to the spring... The grass flames up on the hill sides like a spring fire... as if the earth sent forth an inward heat to greet the returning sun; not yellow but green is the color of its flame...

A poet dips words into springtime to season her poems with beauty.

Under the giving snow blossoms a daring spring.

The change from storm and winter to serene and mild weather, from dark and sluggish hours to bright and elastic ones, is a memorable crisis which all things proclaim.

Storms... surging, raging... calling all our cells to attention — roaring, wailing unabashedly smashing...

Summer set lip to earth's bosom bare, And left the flushed print in a poppy there: Like a yawn of fire from the grass it came, And the fanning wind puffed it to flapping flame...

Summer has set in with its usual severity.

The sun tires of summer and sighs itself into autumn.

I'll tell you how the Sun rose – A Ribbon at a time....

The sunrise opened above them like some cosmic explosion, shining and shattering and yet silent; as if the world were blown to pieces without a sound. Round the rays of the victorious sun swept a sort of rainbow of confused and conquered colours — brown and blue and green and flaming rose-colour; as though gold were driving before it all the colours of the world.

The desert sunset clouds exhale pink puffs of dusky smoke.

Now ruddy Morn purpled the glowing East...

The Sun is Low, to Say the Least, Although it is Well-Red; Yet, Since it Rises in the Yeast, It Should be Better Bred!

I get so excited over sunsets and rainbows etc, when you see them it's like you can shut out the real world and envelop yourself in a beauty that almost makes it feel like fantasy.

Clouds blaze brilliant colors in a sky on fire.

In the country! Oh, in the country I always fear that creation will expire before tea-time.

Our camp-kettle, filled from the brook, hummed doubtfully for a while, then busily bubbled under the sidelong glare of the flames—cups clinked and rattled—the fragrant steam ascended; and soon this little circlet in the wilderness grew warm and genial as my lady's drawing-room.

tea is comforting because it brings us down to earth— water, leaves, warmth it is earth, imbibed

Tea is the symbol of and antidote to civilization.

The human mechanism is marvelous. But why not — it is the result of three-and-a-half billion years of tinkering.

And grew a seething bath, which yet men prove Against strange maladies a sovereign cure.

If we were meant to be nude, we would have been born that way.