Quotes About Nature

To watch the corn grow, or the blossoms set; to draw hard breath over the plough or spade; to read, to think, to love, to pray, are the things that make men happy.

Mountains are to the rest of the body of the earth, what violent muscular action is to the body of man. The muscles and tendons of its anatomy are, in the mountain, brought out with force and convulsive energy, full of expression, passion, and strength.

If only the Geologists would let me alone, I could do very well, but those dreadful Hammers! I hear the clink of them at the end of every cadence of the Bible verses

Flowers seem intended for the solace of ordinary humanity.

The majesty of nature depends upon the force of the human spirit.

In the purest landscape, the human subject is the immortality of the soul by the faithfulness of love.

As the art of life is learned, it will be found at last that all lovely things are also necessary; a wild flower by the wayside, tended corn, wild birds and creatures of the forest, as well as the tended cattle; because man doth not live by bread only.

As the art of life is learned, it will be found at last that all lovely things are also necessary: - the wild flower by the wayside, as well as the tended corn; and the wild birds and creatures of the forest, as well as the tended cattle; because man doth not live by bread only, but also by the desert manna; by every wondrous word and unknowable work of God

I am trying to prove to you the honour of your houses and your hills; not that the Church is not sacred -- but that the whole Earth is.

And thus the... valley became a garden again, and the inheritance, which had been lost by cruelty, was regained by love.

We must see that there is a sublimity and majesty in monotony, when there is not a frequent or rapid variation. This is true throughout all nature. The greater part of the sublimity of the sea depends on its monotony. So also that of desolate moor and mountain scenery; and especially the sublimity of motion.So also there is sublimity in darkness when there is no light.

It is not that the noble nature loves monotony, any more than it loves darkness or pain. But it can bear with it, and receive a high pleasure in the endurance or patience, a pleasure necessary to the well-being of this world; while those who will not submit to the temporary sameness, but rush from one change to another, gradually dull the edge of change itself, and bring a shadow and weariness over the whole world from which there is no more escape.

Imperfection is in some sorts essential to all that we know of life. It is the sign of life in a mortal body, that is to say, of a state of progress and change. Nothing that lives is, or can be, rigidly perfect: part of it is decaying, part nascent. The foxglove blossom - A third part bud, a third part past, a third part full bloom, - is a type of the life of this world.

Overcome by his feelings, the Parisian threw himself upon the ground, exclaiming, in an agony of tears La bonne reine ! la pauvre reine ! Presently he sprang up, exclaiming, Cependant, Monsieur, il faut vous faire voir mon petit chien danser. This contrast, though natural in a Parisian, was unnatural in the nature of things, and therefore injurious.

And it may be matter of encouragement in this respect, though one also of regret, to observe how much oftener man destroys natural sublimity, than nature crushes human power. It does not need much to humiliate a mountain.

Okra is essentially a squid that grows in the ground instead of swimming in the ocean.

THE DAY WAS PERFECT: low eighties, bluebird sky, the slightest touch of a breeze. If the Minnesota August lasted all year, nobody would live anywhere else.

Her voice was stark as a winter crow.

he really liked running on the street, especially after a rain. He liked running through the odors of the night, through the air off the Mississippi

Let me tell you a few things about this place, the UP," Laurent said, as they drove out of town in his Silverado pickup. "The UP is about the most remote place in the lower forty-eight—other

IN A COLD DRY SPRING, before the trees bud out, the morning sun seems to shine white like a silver dime on the horizon, and the clear air over the still-fallow ground gives the prairie a particular bleakness, if your mood is already bleak.

falls, the jumble of trees stretched the two hours into three.

The high Wisconsin bluffs on the St. Croix are such a dark green that in bright afternoon sunlight, they seem almost black.

Virgil had read once that Grandma Moses was a primitive painter because she thought snow was white. The writer said if you really looked at it, snow was hardly ever white. It mostly was a gentler version of the color of the sky - blue, gray, orange in the evenings and mornings, often with purple shadows. When he looked, sure enough, the guy was right, and Grandma Moses had her head up her ass.