Quotes About Nature

Everything smelled wet and feral like it did before a thunderstorm, and she wanted to run, swift and eager, beyond the edge of what she could see.

We slept on mattresses stuffed with the soft seed-heads of dandelions.

All is interrelated, said one. Fire and earth, air and water. All are but one thing, not four, not two, and not three, but one. Where they are not together is only an incomplete piece. A

He is out in the garden, picking a bouquet of foxgloves. He's laughing, sunlight turning his brown hair gold… I bet he doesn't even know those flowers are poison.

They eat one another. They eat us. They eat every damn thing. They'll drink up the whole world if we let them.

It is said that faerie children are not like mortal children. They need little in the way of love. They need not be tucked in at night, but may sleep just as happily in a cold corner of a ballroom, curled up in a tablecloth. They need not be fed; they are just as happy lapping up dew and skimming bread and cream from the kitchens. They need not be comforted, since they seldom weep. But if faerie children need little love, faerie princes require some counsel.

The ferns are silvery in the moonlight, the woods full of shifting shadows.

wolves always come

He shook his head without looking at her. "Did you know there are different names for different moons? This month it's going to be the Hunter's Moon, but March has the Worm Moon and the Crow Moon. May has the Milk Moon, July the Mead Moon. February has the Hunger Moon and late October the Blood Moon. Aren't they lovely names? Aren't they something, Hazel? Aren't they warning enough?

Air all around him, there was air in the water, all elements were one, fire and earth, air and water. All are but one thing, not four, not two, and not three, but one. He

Nothing can happen more beautiful than death - Walt Whitman

You can't help trying to charm every snake you come upon, no matter how cold-blooded or vicious. Let that one be.

Me do not live as you do. For us, love doesn't fade gradually. It snaps like a branch bent to far.

On my way out, I spot my little brother. He is out in the garden, picking a bouquet of foxgloves. He's laughing, sunlight turning his brown hair gold. When his nurse comes toward him, he darts away from her. I bet he doesn't even know that those flowers are poison.

sprites wearing acorn caps and wielding glaives the size of toothpicks battled above a sea of tiger lilies.

Rays of sunlight strike the snow, melting an ice layer that freezes and re-forms every day. As I take a step, I feel the sheet break, a craquelure spreading from my feet.

no matter how eager you are for it, you cannot make the moon set nor rise any faster.

When he lay down in a pile of rushes and closed his eyes, I crept up to him and carefully covered him in dry leaves so that he would be warm.

The Folk do not rot the way mortals do. Sometimes their bodies grow over with lichen or bloom with mushrooms. I've heard stories about battlefields turning in to green hills.

Las tormentas son menos volubles de lo que son, los mares menos caprichosos.

Given what we saw yesterday, I must admit you were right to suggest we circle around this stretch of woods," Oak says, staring into the trees and frowning. Tiernan gives a half smile. "I congratulate you on this wise decision.

If Oak is the sunlight filtering through trees in the woods, all shifting gold and shadow, then Tiernan seems like those same woods in winter, the branches barren and cold.

in the mortal world, there are such things as backyards. Here, there are forest and sea, rocks and mazes, flowers that are red only when they get fresh blood.

The setting sun has lit the sky on fire, set the tops of the trees ablaze.