Quotes About Nature

There's a black rose growing in your garden.

Look at nature. A single bee cannot really do much. But you put a group of bees together and they can form a hive. A colony of bees that work in harmony. Each one doing its part. Some bees collect pollen. Some bees tend to the hive. Some bees guard the hive. Some bees tend to the nursery. Together they make a lot of honey.

The garden we tend to flourishes, the garden we neglect withers away

The only thing that is necessary is to be. Everything else will flow

You strive to have a good heart. But what is a heart? Just a chunk of flesh that a dog can eat.

We ate away, reminiscing about our victories over the enemies from different streets and villages and competing with each other in casting curses. A few golden butterflies and dragonflies were fluttering around us. The afternoon air was warm and clean, and the town below us seemed like a green harbor full of white sails.

????? ????? ????? ????? ????? Moonlight spreads before my bed. I wonder if it's hoarfrost on the ground. I raise my head to watch the moon And lowering it, I think of home. "REFLECTION IN A QUIET

The higher the sky, the lower the people, he thought as he rang the doorbell. Why did there have to be people in every kind of landscape?

The waves dying a natural death on the beach seemed to have traveled vast distances bearing neither life nor hope.

Remember, the storm is a good opportunity for the pine and the cypress to show their strength and their stability.

And still, after all this time, the Sun has never said to the Earth, "You owe me." Look what happens with love like that. It lights up the sky.

God created the woman from clay so that her passion would be painful and warm.

Only primitive man knew freedom, but a freedom imprisoned by the fear of the other and of nature.

Where our knowledge of beauty harmonizes with the ludus naturae, sorcery begins. No, not spoon-bending or horoscopy, not the Golden Dawn or make-believe shamanism, astral projection or the Satanic Mass--if it's mumbo jumbo you want go for the real stuff, banking, politics, social science--not that weak blavatskian crap.

The Law waits for you to stumble on a mode of being, a soul different from the FDA-approved purple-stamped standard dead meat — & as soon as you begin to act in harmony with nature the Law garottes & strangles you — so don't play the blessed liberal middleclass martyr — accept the fact that you're a criminal & be prepared to act like one.

All walking is discovery. On foot we take the time to see things whole.

There are no idealists in the plant world and no compassion. The rose and the morning glory know no mercy. Bindweed, the morning glory, will quickly choke its competitors to death, and the fencerow rose will just as quietly crowd out any other plant that tried to share its roothold. Idealism and mercy are human terms and human concepts.

root, a stem, a leaf, some means of capturing sunlight and air and making food -- in some, a plant. The green substance of the earth, the chlorophyll, is all summed up in the plants. Without them we perish, all of us who are flesh and blood

There are no limits to either time or distance, except as man himself may make them. I have but to touch the wind to know these things.

Of all the seasons, autumn offers the most to man and requires the least of him.

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.

For anyone who lives in the oak-and-maple area of New England there is a perennial temptation to plunge into a purple sea of adjectives about October.

The hush comes with the deepening of Autumn; but it comes gradually. Our ears are attuned to it, day by quieter day. But even now, if one awakens in the deep darkness of the small hours, one can hear it, a foretaste of Winter silence. It's a little painful now, and a little lonely because it is so strange.

You can't be suspicious of a tree, or accuse a bird or a squirrel of subversion or challenge the ideology of a violet.