Quotes About Nature

Do not feel sad for your tears as rocks never regret the waterfalls

Follow both: the call of the mountain of enlightenment and the temptation of the valley of experience. No mountain without valley, no valley without mountain.

This was all in the making, a long time ago. You had as much control over these events as a leaf does in the time of its falling.

Birds can sing and fish can swim and I can do this.

Never step on caterpillars, as one day, they'll become butterflies and you'll never know when you'll need a ride on its wings of fortune.

Some people say the rain with no purpose and others say with memories and wishes

Poetry is inspired by the elements of random thoughts, an overflow of gazing at the unseen.

Today I will find something beautiful.Delicate pink blossoms on a cherry tree.The dove resting near the lemon buds.Sunbeams smiling from sky to earth.Smiling on me."Creating" in BREATHE IN

We are just a certain quantity of cells, all of us!

In the wilderness, we walk and keep the way of the Creator

O the snow, the beautiful snow, Filling the sky and earth below; Over the house-tops, over the street, Over the heads of the people you meet, Dancing, flirting, skimming along.

Riding horseback along a country lane I saw wild roses in bloom, against an old stone wall. The expensive, improved varieties in my garden have lost something. Sophistication always does.

When one has seen something of the world and human nature, one must conclude, after all, that between people in like stations of life there is very little difference the world over.

O, de light-bugs glimmer down de lane,   Merlindy! Merlindy! O, de whip'-will callin' notes ur pain—   Merlindy, O, Merlindy!

To say to the painter that Nature is to be taken as she is, is to say to the player that he may sit on the piano.

'Long about knee-deep in June,'Bout the time strawberries meltsOn the vine.

O, it sets my heart a-clickin' like the tickin' of a clock,When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.

Oh! the old swimmin' hole! When I last saw the place,The scenes was all changed, like the change in my face.

Shake out the ruffle, turn and go,Over the trellis blow the kiss.Some of the guests will never knowAnother night to shadow this.Some of the birds awake in vinesWill never see another faceSo frail, so lovely anyplaceBetween the birdbath and the bines.

I lean back, as the evening darkens and comes on.A chicken hawk floats over, looking for home.I have wasted my life.

Now when it is said that the dharmat? or ultimate nature is not an object of knowledge, this means that since the dharmat? transcends all conceptual constructs, it is not conceivable.

She opened the McRib box and eyed the dark red, sticky sandwich. Suddenly she felt like an animal; she wanted to drag the sandwich somewhere, not anywhere in this McDonald's, not a booth, not Playland, but to a park, a shrouded corner of the woods underneath shimmering tree branches, green, dark, and serene, and then, when she was certain she was completely alone, she wanted to tear that sandwich apart with her teeth.

I HAD RECEIVED A beautiful email from the baby's father when I was still in Mongolia. Nature is wasteful, he had said. That's why there are so many pinecones on the forest floor—his mother had pointed them out to him once when he was a child, and explained that nature starts many more projects than she can ever finish.

Even at the end he couldn't be anything but bad. There would be no rehabilitation for him, no redemption. Some people are just bad forever.