Quotes About Nature

I stared at the changing patterns on the back of his white shirt as he moved under the trees.

I think of a sun like Beethoven, a wind like Debussy, and birdcalls like Stravinsky. But the tempo is all mine.

The flowers you gave me—they died.

Dusk was falling quickly. It was just after 7 P.M., and the month was October.

I feel I am in love with you and it should be Spring. I want the sun throbbing on my head like chords of music. I think of a sun like Beethoven, a wind like Debussy, and bird-calls like Stravinsky. But the tempo is all mine.

La niñas nacen mujeres -dijo Margot, la madre de Thea-. Los niños no nacen hombres. Tienen que aprender a serlo. Pero las niñas ya tienen un carácter de mujer.

Her insan cinayet iÅŸleyebilir. Durumlara baÄŸl?, yap?yla hiç ilgisi yok. KiÅŸi s?n?ra kadar gelir bazen-barda?? ta??ran damlada, tamam. Kim olursa olsun. Ninen bile iÅŸler. Bilmez miyim?

Persistently, I have a vision of a house in the country with the blond wife whom I adore, with the children whom I adore, on the land and with the trees I adore. I know this will never be, yet will be partially, that tantalizing measure (of a man) which leads me on.

You were crying. It's a terrible thing, loving the sea. Yes, she whispered, her eyes straying to it. Waves gathered and broke invisibly in the dark, reaching toward her, pulling back. They were never silent, they never spoke.

Ela é tudo, é todas as coisas. Está à nossa volta, e está dentro de nós. Sem ela nada somos, e nunca poderemos contê-la na totalidade.

Egyptians built pyramids; Americans, skyscrapers; the megalithic Irish, mountain cairns. And while I admit it is impossible to be certain what Danu's people believed, the obsessive topping of Munster Hills with navel and nipples suggest they saw the land as a woman's body, the earth as feminine. And if so, what then? Did they imagine the earth acting like a woman, laughing, singing, weeping, taking a lover, nursing a child?

The Goddess has never been lost. It is just that some of us have forgotten how to find her.

The immanent goddess did not create the rose; she is the rose. She does not take care of you; she is you.

She is all, she is everything. She is around us, and she is within us. We cannot be without her, and we can never encompass all of her.

Euphemia's eyelashes were blown back into her eyes, and her hair was whipped about until it all came down and streamed out behind her.

aside from each other, for a quarter of a century, and an observer who knew them well always used to refer to them as the "pêche melba," adding that they were "only good for mountain

A hen has to lay eggs, a cow has to give milk, and a canary has to sing. But a dog makes his living by giving you nothing but love.

Nature also rushes in to fill the vacant mind. With what? Usually with emotions. Why? Because emotions of worry, fear, hate, jealousy, and envy are driven by primeval vigor and the dynamic energy of the jungle. Such emotions are so violent that they tend to drive out of our minds all peaceful, happy thoughts and emotions.

Suppose you had inherited the same body and temperament and mind that Al Capone had. Suppose you had had his environment and experiences. You would then be precisely what he was—and where he was. For it is those things— and only those things—that made him what he was. The only reason, for example, that you are not a rattlesnake is that your mother and father weren't rattlesnakes.

The world-famous scientist, Dr Alexis Carrel, said: "Prayer is the most powerful form of energy one can generate." So why not make use of it? Call it God or Allah or Spirit—why quarrel with definitions as long as the mysterious powers of nature take us in hand?

You are something new in this world. Be glad of it. Make the most of what nature gave you. In the last analysis, all art is autobiographical. You can sing only what you are. You can paint only what you are. You must be what your experiences, your environment, and your heredity have made you. For better or for worse, you must cultivate your own little garden. For better or for worse, you must play your own little instrument in the orchestra of life.

It is rest to the weary, daylight to the discouraged, sunshine to the sad, and Nature's best antidote for trouble.

So the sun went behind a cloud, and the wind blew until it was almost a tornado, but the harder it blew, the tighter the old man clutched his coat to him. Finally, the wind calmed down and gave up, and then the sun came out from behind the clouds and smiled kindly on the old man. Presently, he mopped his brow and pulled off his coat. The sun then told the wind that gentleness and friendliness were always stronger than fury and force.

We are not empathetic creatures naturally, so we must work at it.