Quotes About Nature

Oh Woman! lovely Woman! Nature made thee To temper Man: We had been Brutes without you, Angels are Painted fair, to look like you; There's in you all that we believe of Heav'n, Amazing Brightness, Purity and Truth, Eternal Joy, and everlasting Love.

Ink on paper is as beautiful to me as flowers on the mountains — God composes, why shouldn't we?

A misanthrope hates all mankind, but is kind to everybody, generally too kind. A philanthrope loves the whole human race, but dislikes his wife, his mother, his brother, and his friends and acquaintances. Misanthrope is the potato, — rough and repulsive outside, but good to the core. Philanthrope is a peach, — his manner all velvet and bloom, and his words sweet juice, but his heart of hearts a stone.

He who is born a fool is never cured.

I looked at my hands to see if I was the same person now I was free — there was such a glory over everything, the sun came like gold through the trees and over the fields, and I felt like I was in heaven!

It's so curious: one can resist tears and "behave" very well in the hardest hours of grief. But then someone makes you a friendly sign behind a window, or one notices that a flower that was in bud only yesterday has suddenly blossomed, or a letter slips from a drawer... and everything collapses.

It is one of nature's ways that we often feel closer to distant generations than to the generation immediately preceding us.

One Swallow maketh not Summer; nor one Woodcock a Winter.

Man is the most alive of living things. In him the traits which distinguish the animate from the inanimate become most pronounced. This is particularly true of his creativeness, which is essentially life giving. It introduces order into the randomness of nature... and is actuated not only by the present environment but by memories and goals.

...a universe as this, full of all the essential means of happiness... the sun shining, the flowers blooming, the crops growing, the waters running...

Hundreds of stars in the pretty sky; Hundreds of shells on the shore together; Hundreds of birds that go singing by; Hundreds of bees in the sunny weather. Hundreds of dew-drops to greet the dawn; Hundreds of lambs in the purple clover; Hundreds of butterflies on the lawn; But only one mother the wide world over!

They may talk of a comet, or a burning mountain, or some such bagatelle; but to me, a modest woman, dressed out in all her finery, is the most tremendous object of the whole creation.

April dress'd in all his trim Hath put a spirit of youth in every thing...

Deny yourself the connection to the wild places that your soul craves and the fire inside you will slowly turn to ash.

Kids don't remember their best day of television.

Fresh air impoverishes the doctor.

But in every walk with Nature one receives far more than he seeks.

With innovation and technology, seems we have forgotten to cherish the true beauty the world has to offer.

By too much sitting still the body becomes unhealthy; and soon the mind. This is nature's law. She will never see her children wronged. If the mind, which rules the body, ever forgets itself so far as to trample upon its slave, the slave is never generous enough to forgive the injury; but will rise and smite its oppressor. Thus has many a monarch mind been dethroned.

I think that I cannot preserve my health and spirits, unless I spend four hours a day at least — and it is commonly more than that — sauntering through the woods and over the hills and fields, absolutely free from all worldly engagements.

To smell a turf of fresh earth is wholesome for the body...

A very strange and solemn feeling came over me as I stood there, with no sound but the rustle of the pines, no one near me, and the sun so glorious, as for me alone. It seemed as if I felt God as I never did before, and I prayed in my heart that I might keep that happy sense of nearness all my life.

We are, perhaps, uniquely among the earth's creatures, the worrying animal. We worry away our lives...

How beautiful and ugly is this world, producer of patchwork hearts — torn by civilized days, mended in nature and solitude — some weaker at the seams than others.