Quotes About Nature

The world would say that we did not exist, that only our actions, our habits, were real, which the world called our crimes or our sins. But Scrotes began to think that we did indeed exist. That we had a nature our own, which was not another's perverted or turned to sin. Our actions could not be crimes, he believed, because they were the expressions of a nature, of an existence even. Which came first, he asked, the deed or the doer? And he began to answer that, for some, it was the doer.

Everything is more meaningful because it is connected to the earth. There are no signs to read, no billboards or neon messages; instead I read the hills and the fields and the farmhouses and the sky. The houses, made of mud and stone and wood, are not hermetically sealed. The wind blows in through the cracks, the night seeps in through the rough wooden window slats.The line between inside and outside is not so clear.

What I love is how seamless everything is. You walk throw a forest and come out in a village; and there's no difference, no division. You aren't in nature one minute and in civilization the next. The houses are made out of mud and stone and wood, drawn from the land around. Nothing stands out, nothing jars.

If we observe the nature, we well learn too many things which human kind may never teach us.

Our Heart is Related with the Nature, Our Thoughts for Surviving

We can live in and from the Nature and these Will accept us. Wij kunnen in en van de natuur leven en deze accepteert ons.

If we take care the Nature it will be our careful Mother.

The Pacific Ocean waters were cool.

Humans were neither all good nor all bad—they were just human and fallible, herself included. With

I love this, and I wish we could keep on driving," Ivy said, the wind whipping a few loose strands of hair back from her forehead that had blown from her ponytail "I haven't seen the Monterrey Peninsula or the Bay area in years. Or the wine country. I've been gone too long.

They knelt on the carpet of grass, damp with dew. Sofia glanced around, taking solace in her garden. Realizing she might never see it again, she closed her eyes and inhaled the delicate aromas of her luscious red roses, the creamy white honeysuckle, and her favorite, mounds of lilac bushes that blazed purple every spring.

The gardener coaxes seeds from the earth, lavishing attention on their every fragile leaf, their magnificent blossoms. How fragile, how fleeting—this beauty, this love. Only the perfumer can capture, extend nature's response. Oh, that we could grasp real love so. —DB

ginger flowers

It is not everyone,' said Elinor, 'who has your passion for dead leaves.

Her pleasure in the walk must arise from the exercise and the day, from the view of the last smiles of the year upon the tawny leaves and withered hedges, and from repeating to herself some few of the thousand poetical descriptions extant of autumn--that season of peculiar and inexhaustible influence on the mind of taste and tenderness--that season which has drawn from every poet worthy of being read some attempt at description, or some lines of feeling.

I walk: I prefer walking.

Miss Morland, no one can think more highly of the understanding of women than I do. In my opinion, nature has given them so much, that they never find it necessary to use more than half.

Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste it's fragrance on the desert air.

When I look out on such a night as this, I feel as if there could be neither wickedness nor sorrow in the world; and there certainly would be less of both if the sublimity of Nature were more attended to, and people were carried more out of themselves by contemplating such a scene.

I will not say that your mulberry trees are dead; but I am afraid they're not alive.

And books! ...she would buy them all over and over again; she would buy up every copy, I believe, to prevent their falling into unworthy hands; and she would have every book that tells her how to admire an old twisted tree.

Were I to fall in love, indeed, it would be a different thing! but I have never been in love; it is not my way, or my nature; and I do not think I ever shall. And, without love, I am sure I should be a fool to change such a situation as mine.

Where the waters do agree, it is quite wonderful the relief they give.

Fanny spoke her feelings. Here's harmony! said she; here's repose! Here's what may leave all painting and all music behind, and what may tranquillise every care, and lift the heart to rapture! When I look out on such a night as this, I feel as if there could be neither wickedness nor sorrow in the world; and there certainly would be less of both if the sublimity of Nature were more attended to, and people were carried more out of themselves by contemplating such a scene.