Quotes About Nature

I feel particularly close to them, because I am now out in the universe. I'm in a position to see nature from another point of view, to be outside the earth and see the big picture.

The older view of the nature of heat was that it is a substance, very fine and imponderable indeed, but indestructible, and unchangeable in quantity, which is an essential fundamental property of all matter.

I viewed my fellow man not as a fallen angel, but as a risen ape.

Viewed as a geometric figure, the ant's path is irregular, complex, and hard to describe.

Someday," Lillian said grumpily, huddling against his powerful chest, "you'll have to explain why men find it such an unholy joy to go outside before it's light, and wander through muddy fields to kill small animals." "Because we like to test ourselves against nature. And more importantly, it gives us an excuse to drink before noon." -Lillian & Marcus

This is the smell of June , she wanted to write to Christopher... honeysuckle, green hay, wet linen hung out to dry ...

Love, she reflected bitterly, wasn't something you bargained with or negotiated with...it lived by its own rules. Love appeared when you didn't want it and refused to go. It was like an invasive species that entered your garden without warning, and proceeded to grow wildly out of control, resistant to every method employed to kill it. Basically, love was pigweed.

I think …I could walk part of the way," she managed to say. "You wouldn't make it down the terrace steps," Hunt said flatly. "Indulge me while I demonstrate the chivalrous side of my nature. Can you put your arms around my neck?

Father, wouldn't it be wonderful if hummingbirds had tea parties and we were small enough to be invited?

I don't need any trinkets or pictures to remind me of my faith—all I need to do is stare out the window at the woods, and see how beautiful they are.

Aline found herself walking quickly, almost running, to her favorite place by the river, where a wildflower meadow sloped down to tall grasses alive with meadow-brown and marbled-white butterflies.

Before they crossed the bridge, they went down to have a look at the chalk stream, which was fringed with reeds, watercress, and yellow flag irises. The water flowing gently over the pebbled bed was gin clear, having been filtered through the Hampshire chalk hills.

She strained as he began to kiss along the side of her neck. Her skin was hot from exertion, a little salty, and her scent was divinely arousing: horses, fresh winter air, roses.

In truth, I find the ocean unnerving. Too vast. I much prefer the forests around Stony Cross. They're always fascinating, and full of commonplace miracles... spiderwebs glittering with rain, new trees growing from the trunks of fallen oaks. I wish you could see them with me. And together we would listen to the wind rushing through the leaves overhead, a lovely swooshy melody... tree music!

You look like a butterfly that's just flown in from the garden," Hunt said softly.

Someday I'm going to throw you across his back and ride off west with you...and you'll learn to make a coffee in a tin pot over a fire, and we'll sleep underneath a wagon and look out at the stars-

Of all the Hathaways, Poppy was the one Catherine had always felt the most comfortable with. Poppy was a warm and talkative young woman who loved order and routine. Hers was an essentially sunny and accepting nature, providing a necessary balance to Harry's driven intensity.

She was already dressed for the day in a simple blue gown, her hair in a loose braid tied with a white ribbon. How apt it was that she'd been named for the showiest of wildflowers, rich and vivid, a gleaming finish to the bloom. Her blue eyes surveyed him with such attentive warmth that he felt a catch in his chest, a dart of pleasure-pain.

It was a law of nature that only the strongest survived, and the weakest had better get the hell out of the way.

Mr. Bayning is not a frog," Poppy protested. "You're right," Beatrix said. "That was very unfair to frogs, who are lovely creatures." As

Let's join the others," he said eventually. "They've probably discovered a variety of moss we haven't yet seen. Or God help us, a mushroom." The pinching tightness eased from her chest. "I'm hoping for some lichen, myself.

Do not stand at my grave and weep I am not there, I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow, I am the diamond glints on snow, I am the sun on ripened grain, I am the gentle autumn rain. When you awaken in the morning's hush I am the swift uplifting rush Of quiet birds in circled flight. I am the soft stars that shine at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there; I did not die.

I've never seen such eyes," he said almost absently. "They remind me of the first time I saw the North Sea." His fingertips followed the edge of her jaw. "When the wind chases the waves before it, the water is the same green-gray your eyes are now... and then it turns to blue at the horizon.

Listen, my little watering pot, it was in my cousin's nature to do something rash at any given moment. It always would have been. The reckless streak in the Ravenel family has persevered for centuries. Theo could have married a saint, and he would have lost his temper regardless." "I'm certainly not a saint," she said woefully, ducking her head. Amusement rustled through his voice. "I knew that within the first minute of meeting you.