Quotes About Nature

I wish I were a rose...that you might wear me for a buttonhole bouquet on your journey. But I wonder...would you throw the rose away when it faded?

Some paintings were no more than a single perfect brushstroke that conjured a simple yet breathtaking fish or stalk of bamnoo. Clay sculptures in various states of completion lined shelves at the far end of the gallery.

How much more generous it would be if, instead of writing parables about childhood wounds, psychologists were to accept that some differences between the sexes just are, that they are in the nature of the beasts, because each sex has an evolved tendency to develop that way in response to experience.

Greenspan's eventual explanation for the growing gap between stock prices and actual productivity was that, fortuitously, the laws of nature had changed -- humanity had reached a happy stage of history where bullshit could be used as rocket fuel.

When I'm around hard-core computer geeks I wanna say, "Come outside, the graphics are great!"

If there is no fog on the day you come home I will build a bonfire So the smoke will make the cedars look the way you like them

Even more effective, however is to compare the results of adoption studies between fraternal (dizygotic or DZ) versus identical (monozygotic or MZ) twins.

Are ye too changed, ye hills? See, tis no foot of unfamiliar men> Tonight from Oxford up your pathway strays! Here came I often, often, in old days; Thyrsis and I; we still had Thyrsis then.

Still nursing the unconquerable hope, Still clutching the inviolable shade, With a free, onward impulse brushing through, By night, the silverd branches of the glade.

Bald as the bare mountain tops are bald, with a baldness full of grandeur.

How thick the bursts come crowding through the leaves! Again thou hearest? Eternal passion! Eternal pain!

The grand style arises in poetry, when a noble nature, poetically gifted, treats with simplicity or with severity a serious subject.

Know, man hath all which Nature hath, but more, And in that more lie all his hopes of good.

Nature, with equal mind,Sees all her sons at play;Sees man control the wind,The wind sweep man away.

Listen! you hear the grating roarOf pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,At their return, up the high strand,Begin, and cease, and then again begin,With tremulous cadence slow, and bringThe eternal note of sadness in.

Strew on her roses, roses,And never a spray of yew!In quiet she reposes;Ah, would that I did too!

Come, dear children, let us away;Down and away below!Now my brothers call from the bay,Now the great winds shoreward blow,Now the salt tides seaward flow;Now the wild white horses play,Champ and chafe and toss in the spray.

Hither and thither spinsThe windborne, mirroring soul;A thousand glimpses wins,And never sees a whole.

Go, for they call you, Shepherd, from the hill.

Are ye too changed, ye hills?See, 'tis no foot of unfamiliar menTonight from Oxford up your pathway strays!Here came I often, often, in old days—Thyrsis [Arthur Hugh Clough] and I; we still had Thyrsis then.

The day in its hotness,The strife with the palm;The night in her silence,The stars in their calm.

Unquiet souls. In the dark fermentation of earth, in the never idle workshop of nature, in the eternal movement, yea shall find yourselves again.

Screen'd is this nook o'er the high, half-reap'd field, And here till sundown, Shepherd, will I be. Through the thick corn the scarlet poppies peep, And round green roots and yellowing stalks I see Pale blue convolvulus in tendrils creep: And air-swept lindens yield Their scent, and rustle down their perfumed showers Of bloom on the bent grass where I am laid, And bower me from the August sun with shade; And the eye travels down to Oxford's towers...

Humid the air! Leafless, yet soft as spring. The tender purple spray on copse and briers! And that sweet city with her dreaming spires, she needs not June for beauty's heightening. Lovely all the time she lies...