Quotes About Nature

It struck Lacy that she didn't really know what color a chameleon was before it started changing.

the breeze would draw a violin bow across the branches of a tree and I would again hear her lullaby. I would listen to the chime of coins being counted, and I would imagine her laughter. Her voice was caught in the shell of my ear, as if it were the ocean.

Her silhouette is obscenely green against the frost, as if she has left in her wake an artificial spring.

death had become part of the landscape.

Maybe there are entire worlds where there are no fences, where feeling bears you like a tide.

Mayflies have the shortest life span on earth. Like, twenty-four hours. Wouldn't you feel terrible if you caused an even more untimely death?

Gardens by their very nature are fragile beings that live in the two dimensions of time and care.

But I remember another image from Earth: the rich dark green grass that grew in graveyards.

Agresiunea este o tr?s?tur? a supravieÈ›uirii. Datorit? ei ne g?sim în vârful lanÈ›ului trofic.

Innocence ain't all it's cracked up to be, you know. Innocent little kids rip the wings off flies, because they don't know any better. That's innocence.

We are like blades of grass or trees of the forest, creations of the universe, of the spirit of the universe, and the spirit of the universe has neither life nor death. Vanity is the only obstacle to life.

Have you considered that maybe this is the birth of a new world, that what happens next is a golden opportunity to change the nature of man in a fundamental way?" "Those are brave words, Tiresias." "New parents can't afford to be anything but brave, Eddie.

Those days were like a crown of gold over her head. Her hair was a knotted nest of some tiny white and yellow flowers with little bluebells wrapped inside her curls. Maybe she'd bring him a sandwich or a bottle of Coca-Cola, all cold and full of beads of ice along the side. Wasn't it all so pretty? Wasn't it all so nice?

Perhaps Effie Mumford was only trying to prove something she already knew: that, like all animals, she was at the whim of the general disorder and unimaginative meanness of the world surrounding her.

It is difficult to understand because you and I are not psychopaths. Things like this only make sense to them. Stalin, said it best, because he knew it best: "Kill one person and it's a national tragedy, kill a million people it is a statistic." And so he did because he could and that is the nature of the psychopath. They get away with as much as they can.

Let me tell you, if you have never seen an agitated squirrel you have seen very little, nor have you heard much, because the sound of an angry squirrel is not to be forgotten.

We humans, especially physicians, are notorious for interfering with nature, thinking we know better. Sometimes we do—all too often we don't.

foods found in nature are ideally suited to the biological needs of the species.

Every day when I wake up and head out for chores, I'm struck by the beauty we enjoy on our farm. Based on visitors' comments, that's a shared awareness. Not one of our doors has a skull and crossbones. We want visitors to be struck not by what we've done, but rather by how we've caressed this beautiful niche of God's creation into a productive and profoundly inspiring place.

Look in the mirror and decide once and for all: Am I biological or mechanical? Is my deepest essence a machine or not?

Nec si quot placidis ignea noctibus Scintillant tacito sydera culmine, Nec si quot tepidum flante Favonio Ver suffundit humo rosas, Tot sint ora mihi...

Az egész reneszánsz ezt a vágyképet dédelgette, fák alatt meghúzódó, h?vös házban jó és bölcs barátok csendes, der?s, mégis komoly társalgásának a képét. Nyugalom és harmónia. Az egész évszázad az egyszer?ség, Å'szinteség, igazság és természetesség megvalósítására törekedett.

It can hardly be possible, that Nature should have given us a tongue, in order that the gratification of a few papillae on it should be the aim of a laborious life, or the cause of wretchedness to others.

But she had to go to bed first, and all night she slept soundly on her bed of hay, dreaming of nothing but of shining mountains with red roses all over them, among which happy little Snowflake went leaping in and out.