Quotes About Nature

I saw a little girl in a wooden wagon, her dress spilling colors over its sides, staring at the rising sun as if it were the very dawn of creation.

Enchanted places cannot be created, they can only be discovered.

I took one step onto the field and stopped. What was I doing? The pure whiteness, dazzling in the sun, was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen. Who was I to spoil it? Snow falls. Earth says: Here—a gift for you. And what do we do? We shovel it. Blow it. Scrape it. Plow it. Get it out of our way. We push it to our fringes. Is there anything uglier or sadder than a ten-day-old snow dump? It's not even snow anymore. It's slush.

And I think every once in a while someone comes along who is a little more primitive than the rest of us, a little closer to our beginnings, a little more in touch with the stuff we're made of.

A full moon falling on the snow lit up the world - who needed electricity?

We walked in silence. Yellow blooms had appeared on a cactus, and for some reason that made me incredibly sad. The purple of the mountains flowed like watercolour. (P. 103) ~ Stargirl by Jerry Spinelli

Newborn leaf clusters on the surrounding trees had a look of pale green popcorn. Tufts of onion grass sprouted across the soccer field, releasing their sweet scent.

The earth is speaking to us, but we can't hear because of all the racket our senses are making. Sometimes we need to erase them, erase our senses. Then–maybe-the earth will touch us. The universe will speak. The stars will whisper.

The setting sun seemed to have ladled its syrupy light over the crusted snow, so that ordinary house parts and backyards in this fading moment seemed a spectacular raspberry dessert.

I can't believe it. Summer's almost over. Summer has a funnel shape. It seems real wide at first and deep. Slow. Like it will last forever. You just float on top of it.

A Terra dizia: Toma aqui, um presente para você. Mas o que fazemos? Nós a removemos com pás. Nós a golpeamos. Nós a raspamos. Nós a limpamos. Saia do nosso caminho. Nós a colocamos de canto.

And yet, with all its life, even at the peak of its bloom, the garden was its own graveyard. Under every tree and bush lay rotten trunks and disintegrated and decomposing roots. It was hard to know which was more important: the garden's surface or the graveyard from which it grew and into which it was constantly lapsing. For

Fire, they said, is no natural friend to man. That is why one must humor it.

We welcome the inevitable seasons of nature, yet we are upset by the seasons of our economy! How

The trees stood stiffly like sinister monks in black habits guarding the glades and clearings with the broad sleeves of their branches.

Many of us forget that nature and society are one! Yes, though we have tried to cut ourselves off from nature, we are still part of it. Like nature, our economic system remains, in the long run, stable and rational, and that's why we must not fear to be at its mercy.

I'm going to call you Motherwort," I whispered, petting the baby fur as she scarfed down the food. "Wort for short, because motherwort is so good at healing girls, and this one right here"—I jabbed my thumb at myself—"has had a day.

It reminded me I could go anywhere when I got older, explore bottomless blue-green oceans, climb icy snow-capped mountains, drink tea with monks.

It must be important. I tiptoe back outside.

The air felt like warm soup.

According to my dad, there were three perfect smells in this world: Fresh-cut grass. A campfire at the edge of a redwood forest. The jubilance of rich black dirt after a thunderstorm.

Trust your instincts, Frankie. Dad had first said that to me when I couldn't decide if the towering plant I was eyeballing was an extremely poisonous giant hogweed or a delicious Indian celery.

Even if they don't find what they're looking for, isn't it enough to be out walking together in the sunlight?

Something about the memory caused him to tear up, to think again about the unknowable nature of the people we love.