Quotes About Nature

No matter how much cats fight there always seem to be plenty of Kittens.

Not allowing people to go through their pain, and protecting them from it, may turn out to be a kind of over-protection, which in turn implies a certain lack of respect for the integrity and the intrinsic nature and the future development of the individual.

Roses would be annoying weeds if the blooms never withered and died. Beauty resides in the knowledge that it doesn't last.

All water is connected and only land and people are discontinuous. And his land is a place where he can no longer stay.

The minutes we spend watching the waves don't count against our life spans

Knowledge shall be promoted by frequent exercise Art polishes and improves nature Fortune is a fair but fickle mistrefs Yesterday misspent can't be recall'd Vanity makes beauty contemptible Wisdom is more valuable than riches.

All water is connected and only land and people are discontinuous. And

All water is connected and only land and people are discontinuous

All water is connected, and her world is limitless. He stands at the limits of his.

The valley below, the rock underfoot, and the mountain before him will outlast him. On the scale of this land, he is nothing; words like "shame" and "guilt" mean little here; and a reputation is no more than a fleeting blue flame, an evanescent spirit in a brandy glass.

Not hammer-strokes, but dance of the water, sings the pebbles into perfection. —Rabindranath Tagore

The rain never holds anyone back. Her umbrella becomes a halo that goes wherever she goes outdoors, while her bare feet happily slosh through puddles.

In my garden there is a large place for sentiment. My garden of flowers is also my garden of thoughts and dreams. The thoughts grow as freely as the flowers, and the dreams are as beautiful.

Offspring were a joy or a shame, but still the crown of their elders, nature's unpredictable creatures.

I imagine what it must be like to stay hidden, disappear in the dusky nothing and stay still in the night. It's not sadness, though it may sound like it. I'm thinking about people and trees and how I wish I could be silent more, be more tree than anything else, less clumsy and loud, less crow, more cool white pine, and how it's hard not to always want something else, not just to let the savage grass grow.

I know you don't always understand, but let me point to the first wet drops landing on the stones, the noise like fingers drumming the skin. I can't help it. I will never get over making everything such a big deal.

I swear, I'll try harder not to miss as much: the tree, or how your fingers under still sleep-stunned sheets coaxed all my colors back.

Here is my sacrifice: my hummingbird landing in a stranger's palm.

Bellow "Tell the range and all that's howling, the flickers of life beyond the weeds, the vulture's furrowed brow of flight, the blasted sticky Canadian lawn thistle; tell the clowned-out clouds and the rain, and all that makes you go quiet again, tell them that you didn't come here to make a fuss, or break, or growl, or scream; tell them-crazy sky and stars between-tell them you didn't come to disturb the night air and throw a fit, then get down in the dark and do it.

Here it is: the new way of living with the world inside of us so we cannot lose it, and we cannot be lost. You and me are us and then, and it and sky.

someone I could hold up to my ear and hear the ocean, something I could say my name into, and have it returned in the inky waves.

I wanted to be a hummingbird. It made sense to long for rapid wings and the ability to hover always— to be Huitzilopochtli taming my snakes. Sometimes though, the thought exhausts me and I want to be a slow horse, a tennis shoe.

You say you love the world, so love the world.

Maybe my limbs are made mostly for decoration, like the way I feel about persimmons.