Quotes About Nature

God is really only another artist, he made the elephat, giraffe and cat. He has no real style but keeps trying new ideas.

God is really only another artist. He invented the giraffe, the elephant and the cat. He has no real style, He just goes on trying other things.

No hay en toda ella un arbolito; la leña que quemamos es una yerba que tiene una cuarta de alto; las casas que vivimos, son todas cubiertas de paja [...] No le escrivo mas porque se me yelan los dedos".

In modern science the methods of analysis are principally applied to investigating the nature of material entities. Thus, the ultimate nature of matter is sought through a reductive process and the macroscopic world is reduced to the microscopic world of particles. Yet, when the nature of these particles is further examined, we find that ultimately their very existence as objects is called into question.

Look into the awakened mind of your own awareness! It has neither form nor color, neither center nor edge. At first, it has no origin but is empty. Next, it has no dwelling place but is empty. At the end, it has no destination but is empty. This emptiness is not made of anything and is clear and cognizant. When you see this and recognize it, you know your natural face. You understand the nature of things. (p. 101)

For every person who has ever lived there has come, at last, a spring he will never see. Glory then in the springs that are yours.

Mother Nature (aka the natural world before humans imposed fear on her) provides for every single need.

What I'd like to suggest in this three-day experiment is that all the important stuff you need to know is happening right outside your window, right there in your neighborhood, right in your own heart.

Sometimes I'm afraid the main reason I spend half of my life outdoors is simply because there aren't any mirrors.

I have always believed that if I pay strict attention while I am out in the physical world—and for me that often meant the natural world—the physical world will give me everything I need to tell my stories" (78). —Deep Creek: Finding Hope in the High Country

I have spent most of my life outside, but for the last three years, I have been walking five miles a day, minimum, wherever I am, urban or rural, and can attest to the magnitude of the natural beauty that is left. Beauty worth seeing, worth singing, worth saving, whatever that word can mean now. There is beauty in a desert, even one that is expanding. There is beauty in the ocean, even one that is on the rise.

And even if the jig is up, even if it is really game over, what better time to sing about the earth than when it is critically, even fatally, wounded at our hands.

Boone was a hunter of the everything-has-to-be-hard-and-painful-to-be-good variety, and there was nothing he liked better than a six- or seven-hour belly crawl through the soggy green tundra.

had been born knowing that if you held the proper measuring stick, animals would always test smarter than people, and nothing I've seen in my lifetime has disabused me of that notion. We may have more complicated language, opposable thumbs and this dangerous thing called reason, but any self-respecting llama or buffalo or spider knows enough not to destroy its own home.

When you give yourself wholly to a piece of ground, its goodness enters your bloodstream like an infusion. You will never be alone the same way again, and never quite dislocated. Your heart will grow down into and back out of that ground like a tree.

woods in the predawn darkness, the silence only broken by the sloshing of his flask.

After a visit to the beach, it's hard to believe that we live in a material world.

Look!" She pointed, a smile on her face. "Wild pigs!" "They have razor-sharp tusks, so don't try to hug one.

Forget you are a man. Loose the animal you hide inside.

She seemed to him like the first twilight of early spring when the trees were well budded out and the robins sat among the blossoms, singing down the sun.

It had been like watching a rose bloom, its soft petals slowly spreading, revealing its beauty bit by bit, then opening at last to claim the sunlight.

There was something healing about horses. He

He wanted her. Here, now, between growing vines and fallen leaves, in the rain and the mud. Anywhere.And she wanted him, too.

The sky broke like an egg into full sunset and the water caught fire.