Quotes About Nature

We lose a great deal, I think, when we lose this sense and feeling for the sun. When all has been said, the adventure of the sun is the great natural drama by which we live, and not to have joy in it and awe of it, not to share in it, is to close a dull door on natures's sustaining and poetic spirit.

Into every empty corner, into all forgotten things and nooks, Nature struggles to pour life.

For the animal shall not be measured by man. In a world older and more complete than ours they move finished and complete, gifted with extensions of the senses we have lost or never attained, living by voices we shall never hear. They are not brethren, they are not underlings; they are other nations, caught with ourselves in the net of life and time, fellow prisoners of the splendour and travail of the earth.

It is only when we are aware of the earth and of the earth as poetry that we truly live.

And what of Nature itself, you say – that callous and cruel engine, red in tooth and fang? Well, it is not so much of an engine as you think. As for "red in tooth and fang," whenever I hear the phrase or its intellectual echoes I know that some passer-by has been getting life from books.

Nature is part our humanity, and without some awareness and experience of that divine mystery man ceases to be man. When the Pleiades and the wind in the grass are no longer a part of the human spirit, a part of very flesh and bone, man becomes, as it were, a kind of cosmic outlaw, having neither the completeness and integrity of the animal nor the birthright of a true humanity.

Glorious white birds in the blue October heights over the solemn unrest of ocean—their passing was more than music, and from their wings descended the old loveliness of earth which both affirms and heals. IV

I muse again on the dogmatic assertion which I often make that the countryman's relation to Nature must never be anything else but an alliance... When we begin to consider Nature as something to be robbed greedily like an unguarded treasure, or used as an enemy, we put ourselves in thought outside of Nature, of which we are inescapably a part.

Nature has its unexpected and unappreciated mercies.

animals] are not brethren, they are not underlings [but beings] gifted with extensions of the senses we have lost or never attained, living by voices we shall never hear [;] other nations, caught with ourselves in the net of life and time, fellow prisoners of the splendid and travail of the earth

The animal shall not be measured by man. In a world older and more complete than ours, they move finished and complete, gifted with extensions of the senses we have lost or never attained, living by voices we shall never hear. They are not brethren, they are not underlings; they are other nations, caught with ourselves in the net of life, fellow prisoners of the splendor and travail of the earth.

A gold and scarlet leaf floating solitary on the clear, black water of the morning rain barrel can catch the emotion of a whole season, and chimney smoke blowing across the winter moon can be a symbol of all that is mysterious in human life.

Man can either be less than man or more than man, and both are monsters, the last more dread.

The world today is sick to its thin blood for lack of elemental things, for fire before the hands, for water welling from the earth, for air, for the dear earth itself underfoot.

El mundo de hoy está exangüe por la falta de cosas elementales, de fuego ante las manos, de agua manando de la tierra, de aire, de tierra amada bajo los pies. Cuanto más tiempo llevaba allí, más ávido estaba de conocer esta costa y compartir su vida misteriosa y elemental.

sharpened and the house will have an odd little way of opening doors by itself and leaning to one side.

The animal shall not be measured by man. In a world older and more complete than ours they move finished and complete, gifted with extensions of the senses we have lost or never attained, living by voices we shall never hear. They are not brethren, they are not underlings; they are other nations, caught with ourselves in the net of life and time, fellow prisoners of the splendor and travail of the earth.

In the age of acorns, before the times of Ceres, a single barley-corn had been of more value to mankind than all the diamonds of the mines of India.

William Blackstone had laid out a farm and orchard, and built him a house on the western slope of one of the hills, whence he could see the sun set across the windings of the river Charles, and over the wide brown marshes through which it made its way.

People in cities may forget the soil for as long as a hundred years, but Mother Nature's memory is long and she will not let them forget indefinitely.

Rose and lily, white and red, From my garden garlanded, These I brought and thought to grace The perfection of thy face. Other roses, pink and pale, Lilies of another vale, Thou hast bound around thy head In the garden of the dead.

In the eaves a swallow cri'th, And hark, the sound of whetting, Whetting and whetting the scythe On the dewy lawn: O blithe, Blithe sound, there's no forgetting.

Dearest, these household cares remit; And while the sky is blue today, Here in this sunny shelter sit, To list the blackbird's lay.

In the world of nature we find the poets moved even to passion by objects that we hardly notice, or from long familiarity have come to ignore. Their strong emotion arises from their fresh vision.