Quotes About Nature

And one morning while in the woods I stumbled suddenly upon the thing, Stumbled upon it in a grassy clearing guarded by scaly oaks and elms And the sooty details of the scene rose, thrusting themselves between the world and me....

That abandoned house, With its yard of fallen leaves, In the setting sun.

It seemed warmer outside, as though it were going to snow again.

God comes to each of us in the form we can best perceive Him. To you, just now, He was a heron. To someone else, He might come as a flower or even a breeze.

Wasn't I right? Isn't it nice here?" Miranda thought fast. "Well…there's atmosphere, that's for sure." "I could never come here all by myself. But when Roo's mad or sad or worried about something, this is where she always runs away to." "Yeah." Parker sighed. "Too bad she always runs back home again.

Far below her, frantic waves crashed again and again, impaling themselves on razor-sharp rocks, gnashing and gnawing the sheer walls of the cliffs until they bled black foam.

Is it odd to picnic at one's mother's grave? To sit up on the cliff and trickle pebbles over the ledge and listen to them bounce until they disappear? To eat an apple, to feel the sun, and to remember her, she who gave so much that it will never diminish? Is it odd to live with ehr in you, to continue to share your days and thoughts with the presence of her loving spirit?

I think even then I knew Omar would be going away, would be leaving the land to explore cities and towns. But still I tried as hard as I could-it was my job-to plant a sense of the wild within him: something that calls one back into the interior, back into the shadows and safety of a place that still has reverence to it. Within every atom of it.

There is romantic nonsense these days about the beauty of death, about the terrible end becoming the lovely beginning, and I think that's wrong, a diminution of the beauty of life. Death is as terrible as birth is wonderful. The laws of physics and nature—not romance—dictate this. It occurs to me that sometimes even nature—raw, silent, solemn, and joyous nature—fears, even if only slightly, rot.

he lay down in the middle of the field in the sun on his back and closed his eyes, and felt wind, sun, the ground below him...The sun confused him, with its warmth, the brightness. He dozed throughout the rest of the afternoon. His life meant something. he was his own man, belonged to no one.

Sara would listen for his plane in the afternoons. It did not make sense, but she could hear it even before the dogs could.

Even up until the final moment of life, bat and moth are linked together forever, through time, and beyond. As a last-gasp evasive maneuver, a fleeing moth will sometimes stop its wingbeats in midflight, thereby ceasing to give off data to the bat's radar. But sometimes the bat will pause, too, so that the moth can't pick up any radar signals-the bat seeming to have disappeared-and for just the briefest of moments they will both hang there, suspended in eternity.

I pointed to a red-tailed hawk half a mile above us. I watched the hawk to see if it was Chubb. Strange things happen in the animal world when a loved one dies, that's a fact. They honor our passage with far more reverence than we do theirs.

And it occurred to me by the time I was a teenager that I had become part of the land, every bit as much a part of it as sparrow eggs or thrasher nest, garter snake or oak tree, and that the rest of my life, or anyone's life, would be a gradual learning process, a journey toward fitting into one's home, for those of us lucky enough to still recognize what is home...that which we are a part of, rather than estranged from. And rather than using the word lucky, perhaps I should use the word grace.

farther west, a raven floated down the road like an escort, a companion, making sure I got home all right.

I ran with him through the dark sweet-smelling cedars to the stripe of white road, and paused, panting, letting him soak up the light of the moon, letting him inflate with the excitement I felt at being alive.

Omar doesn't have any children, either. I suppose the land is all we will leave behind. In that way it is both our parents and our children. The land grows flowers for me to lay at the feet of Mother's grave, there under the big tree. I cut the flowers with scissors and carry them up there, but I am just a medium, a conduit, for that flow. It is really the land that is doing it.

God's love is his nature and he is so full of mercy that he has not chosen whom he loves based on their personal achievements or perceived worth. His love is given to those who are not worthy. He is not seeking to unite himself only to those who meet certain qualifications of looks, personality, and aptitude, but instead he has chosen a bride who was once an orphaned whore.

Gaea?" Leo shook his head. "Isn't that Mother Nature? She's supposed to have, like, flowers in her hair and birds singing around her and dear and rabbits doing her laundry." "Leo, that's Snow White," Piper said.

Hazel squinted. How far? Just over the river and through the woods. Percy raised an eyebrow. Seriously? To Grandmother's house we go? Frank cleared his throat. Yeah, anyway.

Why do you need to gallop while you fly? Why do humans have to sway their arms while they walk? I dunno boss, but it just feels right.

This is the Wilderness School. 'Where the Kids are animals

Eternity with Artemis? He heaved a big sigh. Thalia rolled her eyes. You satyrs. You're all in love with Artemis. Don't you get that she'll never love you back? But she's so…into nature, Grover swooned. You're nuts, said Thalia. Nuts and berries, Grover said dreamily. Yeah.

I want some time without you organic life forms.