Quotes About Nature

Nothing really matches the atmosphere of the old Polaroid film. Except perhaps a poem, a musical phrase, or a forest hung with mist.

A language without words, where the mind must bow to instinct

In the green of the hills, he saw red.' p.13

I finally placed where the images in my morning dream might have come from - the Battle of Shiloh in the Civil War. Thousands of young soldiers lay dead on the battleground in a peach orchard in full bloom. It was said that the blossoms fell upon them, covering them like a thin layer of fragrant snow. I wondered why I had dreamed that, but then again, why do we dream about anything?

From my small terrace I caught the moment when drapes of cloud dropped upon the ground. I had never seen such a thing and lamented I was without film for my camera. On the other hand I was able to experience the moment completely unburdened.

A sudden gust of wind shakes the branches of trees scattering a swirl of leaves that shimmer eerily in the bright filtered light. Leaves as vowels, whispers of words like a breath of net. Leaves are vowels. I sweep them up hoping to find the combinations I am looking for. The language of the lesser gods. But what of God himself? What is his language? What is his pleasure? Does he meld with the lines of Wordsworth, the musical phrases of Mendelssohn, and experience nature as genius conceives it?

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.

A man can be drawn across the room with the simplicity of a smile. That's why your pearly whites should always be straight and shiny. I think most of my clients are drawn to a fun, flirty nature in a woman. The problem is, most women do not often feel fun and flirty.

Mothers,fathers,our kind,tell me again that death doesn't matter.Tell me it's just a limitation of vision ,a fold of landscape,a deep flax-and-poppy-filled gully hidden on the hill, pleat in our perception a somersault of existence,natural,even beneficent even a gift,the only key to the red-lacquered door at the end of the hall,"water within water," those old stories.

Don't you know This is precisely what I seek, mad myself To envelope every last drupe and pearl shaped ovule, Every nip and cry and needle-fine boring, every drooping, Spore-rich tassle of oak flower, all the whistling, Wing-beating, heavy-tipped matings of an entire prairie Of grasses, every wafted, moaning seed hook You can possibly manage to bring to me, That is exactly what I contrive to take you into my arms With you, again and again.

I joke around a lot about the manic times because they're funny. We manics do outrageous things and it is part of our colorful nature.

The mathematician plays a game in which he himself invents the rules while the physicist plays a game in which the rules are provided by nature, but as time goes on it becomes increasingly evident that the rules which the mathematician finds interesting are the same as those which nature has chosen

I mean people die every day, and the world is still spinning." Mom takes my paper and turns it around to study it. "That's a good thing." "Are you talking about life, death, or my bird?" "Life is good. Death is a mystery. The bird needs work.

And then one day the walls of your house finally collapse. If the door is still standing, however, all you have to do is walk through it,and you are back inside. It's pleasant sleeping out under the stars. Never mind the rain. It can't last very long.

We are not where we are, he finds, but in a false position. Through an infirmity of our natures, we suppose a case, and put ourselves into it, and hence are in two cases at the same time, and it is doubly difficult to get out

The sun is the past, the earth is the present, the moon is the future.

The sky is white. It smells of the earth, and it is not there. The sky is white like the earth, and it smells of yesterday. All this was tomorrow. All this was a hundred years from now.

Sáng tr?ng, r?i bóng t?i. N?ng d?i xu?ng t? m?i ng? tr?i, sau ?ó là ?êm ?en, nh?ng vì sao im l?ng, gió xao ??ng lá cành. L? th??ng là v?y.

Si, l'amavo in tutta l'ampiezza consentita dalla legge (la legge della mia natura) [...].

If the world weren't such a beautiful place, we might all turn into cynics.

and cut down many trees. When the Humans

Tom, il tempo non lo puoi cambiare», diceva June, intendendo che certe cose sono semplicemente quello che sono e non abbiamo altra scelta che accettarle. Tom aveva afferrato il principio, ma questo non gli impediva di maledire le tempeste di neve e i venti gelidi che soffiavano contro il suo piccolo corpo tremante.

Who was I kidding? I'm a farmer, and farmers are natural segregationists. We separate the wheat from the chaff. I'm not Rudolf Hess, P. W. Botha, Capitol Records, or present-day U.S. of A. Those motherfuckers segregate because they want to hold on to power. I'm a farmer: we segregate in an effort to give every tree, every plant, every poor Mexican, every poor nigger, a chance for equal access to sunlight and water; we make sure every living organism has room to breathe.

De zee is blauw, het bos is groen