Quotes About Nature

Keeping your body healthy is an expression of gratitude to the whole cosmos — the trees, the clouds, everything.

What golden spider warmed himself and spun This web that is the flesh upon your bones...

I never get tired of the blue sky..

It's all about colour and texture. It's about being outside in the middle of deciduous forest, the tall grasses and rustling leaves. You can take one maple leaf and see almost all the colours of the rainbow in it — although you would need your imagination to see blue.

...the darkness of the hollow in the centre of a wild rose is one glow of orange fire...

Pink is a seashell, Pink is a rose, Pink is a puppy's Tongue and nose. Pink are my cheeks And my bunny's ears; Pink is the sky When sunrise nears...

Some of the most beautiful blues and purples in nature, for instance, are those of mountains in shadow against amber sky...

Best I love September's yellow...

Colors of the summer sun illuminate the meadow. Gold, the massed gold of hawkweed; the burnished gold of black-eyed Susans; the delicate, demure gold of stargrass, cousin of the daffodil; and the sun's very rays captured by the field's wild sunflowers.

Nature rarer uses Yellow Than another Hue – Saves she all of that for Sunsets Prodigal of Blue Spending Scarlet, like a Woman Yellow she affords Only scantly and selectly Like a Lover's Words –

God made the country, and man made the town.

My dear boy... anybody can be good in the country.

It is not easy to walk alone in the country without musing upon something.

There is indeed scarcely any writer who has not celebrated the happiness of rural privacy, and delighted himself and his reader with the melody of birds, the whisper of groves, and the murmur of rivulets...

Nor rural sights alone, but rural sounds, Exhilarate the spirit, and restore The tone of languid nature.

If wilderness is outlawed, only outlaws can save wilderness.

We are trapped by our conditioning in a world of steel and plastic, asphalt and concrete. We are removed from the earth and getting farther and farther from it daily.

The land is everyone's and no one's.

Why are we destroying the land instead of taking care of it? It takes care of us.

Man, with his metal beaver-teeth chops down the world's trees saws, whines, grinds — loudly without a care but human "needs"

Are the waves of the brain drawn like tides of the ocean by some psychic moon, as yet unexplored?

No, no, the mind I love must still have wild places, a tangled orchard where dark damsons drop in the heavy grass, an overgrown little wood, the chance of a snake or two (real snakes), a pool that nobody's fathomed the depth of — and paths threaded with those little flowers planted by the mind. It must also have real hiding places, not artificial ones — not gazebos and mazes. And I have never yet met the cultivated mind that has not had its shrubbery.

Summer ends, and Autumn comes, and he who would have it otherwise would have high tide always and a full moon every night; and thus he would never know the rhythms that are at the heart of life.

That time of year, you know, when the summer, beginning to sadden, Full-mooned and silver-misted, glides from the heart of September, Mourned by desolate crickets, and iterant grasshoppers, crying All the still nights long, from the ripened abundance of gardens...