Quotes About Nature

Hey, look up there!" he said as he pointed toward the sky. "A flock of turtles." Like a fool, I looked. I knew it wasn't the right time of year for turtles to migrate, but I looked anyway. When

What exactly am I supposed to be looking for? That imaginary tidal wave of yours?" Mr. Martin said. And as if to accentuate his words, a wall of water appeared and blocked out the sky. Mr. Martin promptly exclaimed something about the divine nature of human excrement. "I

But the boy was not cheated by her ignorance. He was not intensely interested in answers, the things themselves were enough. So he ran on, holding the leaf by its twig, or feather by its quill, and whereas his mother thought mostly of arriving, discovery kept him in a state of endless being.

For several hours we were thrown and battered — till suddenly calm felt — the calmest calm I have ever experienced at sea. God had willed us to enter the eye — you know about it? the still centre of the storm — where we lay at rest — surrounded by hundreds of seabirds, also resting on the water.

Swallows flew, the scythes of their wings mowing the light.

But the purpose and nature are never clearly revealed. Human behaviour is a series of lunges, of which, it is sometimes sensed, the direction is inevitable.

stones, even, are smoother for the dust.

We used to laugh at our small selves, saying that I was a bad girl trying to be good and that he was a good boy trying to be bad. Through the years these roles would reverse, then reverse again, until we came to accept our dual natures. We contained opposing principles, light and dark.

Finally, by the sea, where God is everywhere, I gradually calmed.

If I got lost along the way I had a compass that I had found embedded in a pile of wet leaves I was kicking my way through. The compass was old and rusted but it still worked, connecting the earth and stars. It told me where I was standing and which way was west but not where I was going and nothing of my worth.

Tearing things apart (is) a powerful aspect of human nature.

Shard by shard we are released from the tyranny of so-called time. A curtain of purple wisteria partially conceals the entrance to a familiar garden... In a wink, a lifetime, we pass through the infinite movements of a silent overture.

A wind picked up and I could feel the sea within it.

The priest had been kind but could not draw her out. Instead she chose to tell her story in the greater church, the green cathedral that is nature. For nature too is holy, more holy than the icons, more holy than the relics of saints. These were dead things compared to the most insignificant living thing. The fox knows this, and the deer, and the pine.

Behind her smile I could see o many other things, a catastrophic sadness. I had assisted to the selfless guardians of the unfortunate children who suffered infinite loss, their family, their homes, and nature as they had known and trusted.

He had ignored nature and now turned to her for his salvation, and set about to make peace with her, bowing to her mysteries.

In his heartlessness he had ignored nature, and how heartless nature was in return.

There is no pure good, no pure evil, only purity.

I commenced with my chores, whistling an oft-forgotten tune, certain that we, as the seasons, prevail and that ten thousand years is yet a blink in the eye of a ringed planet or that of an archangel armed with a sword of glass.

And the eye became a body, the murky heart of a rose. The sinister shadow of an orchid. Or the indolent poppy balanced behind the ear of Baudelaire.

Through the years these roles would reverse, then reverse again, until we came to accept our dual natures. We contained opposing principles, light and dark.

The brilliant trees burned through the heavy mist and he climbed them to pluck leaves of gold, cramming fistfuls inside his sweater, imagining the wealth that would be his.

We are guided by roses, the scent of a page.

Things are changing at a speed we never dreamed. We'll be talking nuclear war. Pesticides will be a food group. No song birds, no wildflowers. Nothing but collapsing hives and lines of the rich getting ready to board a ship for a night on the moon.