Quotes About Nature

Life is like an ocean. It can be calm or still and rough or rigid. But in the end, it's always beautiful.

One of life's gifts is that each of us, no matter how tired and downtrodden, finds reasons for thankfulness: for the crops carried in from the fields and the grapes from the vineyard.

If I had a flower for every time I thought of you, I could walk in my garden forever.

on one of my first real adult vacations, my husband and I went to Carlsbad Caverns. That place captured my imagination like few places on this earth ever have. It just transported me to the early days of the cavern. I could imagine the first people who found it, explored it. It is endless

It's dangerous, but it's a place full of the majesty of creation, too. It's a shining testimony to God.

In the old days, nature was our people's only school and they needed no other.

Sound is important. Our sound is the sound of nature and animals, not the notes of a white man's scale. Our

Our language comes from the water, the flowers, the wild creatures, the

They made four hundred and five of these little tobacco bundles, one for each of the different plants, "our

Rain falls on everyone, lightning strikes some. What cannot be changed is best forgotten. God made the world, and He saw that it was good. Not fair. Not happy. Not perfect. Good.

I was in a temper fit to blow the lid off a kettle of boiling water. And who wouldn't be? Since sunup, I'd been doing chores. I'd milked the cow, hauled two buckets of water from the well, fed the chickens, and then fought the hens for their eggs. Now I was down on my knees, sweat-soaked and bug-bitten, yanking weeds from the vegetable patch. My hands were caked with mud, and my nose was burned as red as a strawberry.

This world, it breathes you in … it knows you, and then it breathes you out again, shares you.

Do not pass a rose without stopping to smell it. It is a gift that may not always be there.

Snow. I wondered what it felt like. Aunt Bernette said it could be both soft and hard, cold and hot. It stung and burned when the wind pelted it through the air, and it was a gentle cold feather when it drifted down in lazy circles from the sky. I couldn't imagine it being so many things, and I wondered if she had taken license with her story as Father always claimed. I couldn't stop thinking of it. Snow.

I wonder at the weight of a Sparrow.

A single gentle rain makes the grass many shades greener. So our prospects brighten . . .

One day he gave me a handful of sky when he saw me gazing up at the clouds, just to see me smile. I put it in my pocket.

as a child she thought if she could just pull away the fence they would turn back into the beautiful horses they really were and escape to the old plains. she had hope in that power

And as high as the trees stretched, the roots reached to the foundations of the earth.

like it better, nothing like sunshine dried right into your clothes.

I felt her tongue on mine, the warmth of her lips, breathed in the scent of her skin and hair, and we were in the wilderness again, and nothing else mattered.

And today, like each time they have landed on my hand for the past two hundred years, I wonder at the weight of a sparrow.

All ways belong to the world. What is magic but what we don't yet understand? Like the sign of the vine and lion you carry?

rain is both a friend and foe, depending on when it comes.