Quotes About Nature

Nature abhors a virgin - a frozen asset.

The love of nature comes with maturing years and is one of the few compensations for growing old.

The purpose of man is like the purpose of a pollywog - to wiggle along as far as he can without dying; or, to hang to life until death takes him.

We talk of our mastery of nature, which sounds very grand but the fact is we respectfully adapt ourselves, first, to her ways.

1059The egg it is the source of it all. 'Tis everyone's ancestral hall. The bravest chief that ever fought, The lowest thief that e'er was caught, The harlot's lip, the maiden's leg, They each and all came from an egg.

But don't forget, in the meantime, that this is the season for strawberries. Yes.

I write very simple and very naked. That's why it wounds. I'm a grey and blue landscape. I rise in a dry fountain and in the cold light.

Meanwhile, the clouds are white and the sky is blue. Why is there so much God? At the expense of men.

Are we fruit of the same tree? No - Angela is everything I wanted to be and never was. What is she? She's the waves of the sea. While I'm the dense and gloomy forest. I'm in the depths. Angela scatters in sparkling fragments. Angela is my vertigo. Angela is my reverberation.

I feel happier with animals than with people. When I watch my horse cantering freely across the fields— I am tempted to put my head against his soft, vigorous neck and narrate the story of my life. When I stroke my dog on the head — I know that he doesn't expect me to make sense or explain myself.

The sea, the sea's swell, silent and breathless.

Don't forget that for now it's strawberry season

She herself asked for nothing, but her sex made its demands like a sunflower germinating in a tomb.

I'm in agony: I want the colorful, confused and mysterious mixture of nature. All the plants and algae, bacteria, invertebrates, fish, amphibians, reptiles, birds, mammals concluding man with his secrets.

Não ter nascido bicho parece ser uma de minhas secretas nostalgias.

he thinks that flowers are hauntingly delicate like a sigh of nobody in the dark.

Yet around her things were living so violently sometimes. The sun was fire, the earth solid and possible, plants were sprouting alive, trembling, whimsical, houses were made so that in them bodies could be sheltered, arms would wrap around waists, for every being and for every thing there was another being and another thing in a union that was a burning end with nothing beyond.

I want the material of things. Humanity is drenched with humanization, as if that were necessary; and that false humanization trips up man and trips up his humanity. A thing exists that is fuller, deafer, deeper, less good, less bad, less pretty. Yet that thing too runs the risk, in our coarse hands, of becoming transformed into "purity", our hands that are coarse and full of words.

It isn't for us that cows' milk comes forth, but we drink it. Flowers weren't made for us to look at or for us to smell, and we look at them and smell them. The Milky Way doesn't exist for us to know if its existence, but we know.

Words are pebbles rolling in the river

she had stared through the window at a little old lady in the sun, grubby, light and quick – a branch quivering in the breeze. A dry branch where there was so much femininity, Joana had thought, that the poor dear could have a child if life hadn't dried up in her body

Como posso amar a grandeza do mundo se não posso amar o tamanho da minha natureza?

Being born is like this: The sunflowers slowly turn their corollas toward the sun. The wheat is ripe. The bread is eaten with sweetness. My impulse connects to that of the roots of the trees

Quiero poseer los átomos del tiempo. Y quiero capturar el presente que, por su propia naturaleza, me esta prohibido, el presente se me escapa, la actualidad huye, la actualidad soy yo siempre en presente.