Quotes About Nature

Nature might stand up      And say to all the world, 'This was a man!

Sometime we see a cloud that's dragonish, A vapor sometime like a bear or lion, A towered citadel, a pendant rock, A forked mountain, or blue promontory With trees upon't that nod unto the world And mock our eyes with air. Thou hast seen these signs: They are black vesper's pageants.

Things growing are not ripe until their season:

For now I stand as one upon a rock Environed with a wilderness of sea.

How far is't call'd to Forres? What are these So wither'd and so wild in their attire, that look not like the inhabitants o' the earth, And yet are on't? Live you? or are you aught That man may question? The earth hath bubbles, as the water has, And these are of them. Whither are they vanish'd? Into the air; and what seem'd corporal melted As breath into the wind. Would they had stay'd!

Lay her i' the earth; And from her fair and unpolluted flesh May violets spring!

some good I mean to do, Despite of mine own nature.

Boundless intemperance In nature is a tyranny. It hath been Th' untimely emptying of the happy throne And fall of many kings.

Sirrah, your Father's dead: And what will you do now? How will you live? Son: As birds do, mother. L. Macd: What with worms and flies? Son: With what I get, I mean; and so do they.

The merciless Macdonald (Worthy to be a rebel, — for, to that, The multiplying villainies of nature Do swarm upon him) from the Western Isles Of kerns and gallowglasses is supplied; And Fortune, on his damned quarrel smiling, Showed like a rebel's whore: but all's too weak: For brave Macbeth (well he deserves that name) Disdaining Fortune, with his brandish'd steel, Which smoked with bloody execution, Like valour's minion, Carv'd out his passage.

My particular grief Is of so flood-gate and o'erbearing nature That it engluts and swallows other sorrows, And it is still itself.

The poor soul sat singing by a sycamore tree. Sing all a green willow: Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee, Sing willow, willow, willow: The fresh streams ran by her, and murmur'd her moans; Sing willow, willow, willow; Her salt tears fell from her, and soften'd the stones; Lay by these: Sing willow, willow, willow; Prithee, hie thee; he'll come anon.

Do you find Your patience so predominant in your nature That you can let this go? Are you so gospelled, To pray for this good man and for his issue, Whose heavy hand hath bowed you to the grave, And beggared yours for ever?

and Anthony, Enthroned i'th'market-place, did sit alone Whistling to th'air, which but for vacancy Had gone to gaze on Cleopatra too, And made a gap in Nature.

That all the world will be in love with night And pay no worship to the garish sun.

This was the noblest Roman of them all: All the conspirator, save only he, Did that they did in envy of great Caesar. He only, in a general honest thought And common good to all, made one of them. His life was gentle, and the elements So mix'd in him that Nature might stand up And say to all the world, 'This was a man!

There is no more mercy in [Coriolanus] than there is milk in a male tiger.

What, is the jay more precious than the lark Because his fathers are more beautiful? Or is the adder better than the eel Because his painted skin contents the eye?

Love thoughts lie rich when canopied with bowers.

love thou the rose: yet leave it on its stem

exceeds her as much in beauty as the first of May doth the last of December.

Love's fire heats water, water cools not love.

The moon, methinks, looks with a watery eye; And when she weeps, weeps every little flower; Lamenting some enforced chastity.

Small herbs have grace, great weeds to grow apace.