Quotes About Nature

to study the ambitions and appetites of a family launched upon the modern world, making superhuman efforts but always failing because of its own nature and the influences upon it, almost getting there only then to fall back again, and ending up by producing veritable moral monsters, the priest, the murderer, the artist. The times are in turmoil, and it is this turmoil of the moment which I shall depict. (vii)

el árbol, donde arraiga, allí se queda. Le cortan los brazos; le hieren el tronco; llora por la herida su savia, que es su sangre... pero no se arranca a si mismo, porque no puede; no anda, porque lo suejta la tierra con su dulce pesadumbre...

Moja mi?o?? do Lintona jest jak li?cie w lesie. Wiem dobrze, ?e czas j? zmieni, tak jak zima zmienia wygl?d lasu.

I wish I were a girl again, half savage and hardy, and free... Why am I so changed? I'm sure I should be myself were I once among the heather on those hills.

Love is like the wild rose-briar; Friendship like the holly-tree. The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms, but which will bloom most constantly?

Heathcliff, make the world stop right here. Make everything stop and stand still and never move again. Make the moors never change and you and I never change.

The Night Is Darkening Round M The night is darkening round me, The wild winds coldly blow; But a tyrant spell has bound me, And I cannot, cannot go. The giant trees are bending Their bare boughs weighed with snow; The storm is fast descending, And yet I cannot go. Clouds beyond clouds above me, Wastes beyond wastes below; But nothing drear can move me; I will not, cannot go.

If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger: I should not seem a part of it. My love for Linton is like the foliage in the woods: time will change it, I'm well aware, as winter changes trees. My love for Heatcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight, but necessary.

Now, my bonny lad, you are mine! And we'll see if one tree won't grow as crooked as another, with the same wind to twist it!

Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away; Lengthen night and shorten day; Every leaf speaks bliss to me Fluttering from the autumn tree. I shall smile when wreaths of snow Blossom where the rose should grow; I shall sing when night's decay Ushers in a drearier day.

I have fled my country and gone to the heather.

I will walk where my own nature would be leading.

He's not a rough diamond - a pearl-containing oyster of a rustic; he's a fierce, pitiless, wolfish man.

Gimmerton chapel bells were still ringing and the full, mellow flow of the beck in the valley came soothingly on the ear. It was a sweet substitute for the yet absent murmur of the summer foliage, which drowned that music about the Grange when the trees were in leaf.

Time will change it, I'm well aware, as winter changes the trees — my love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath — a source of little visible delight, but necessary. Nelly, I am Heathcliff — he's always, always in my mind — not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself — but as my own being — so, don't talk of our separation again — it is impracticable.-

Nu ÅŸtiu din ce sunt pl?m?dite sufletele noastre, dar ÅŸtiu c? al lui ÅŸi al meu sunt la fel. (...) Iubirea mea pentru Linton seam?n? cu frunzele p?durii, timpul o va schimba, îmi dau bine seama, aÅŸa cum iarna schimb? pomii. Iubirea mea pentru Heathcliff îns? e asemeni stâncilor eterne de sub p?mânt: nu prilej de încântare, ci necesitate.

The whole world awake and wild with joy.

Catherine's face was just like the landscape—shadows and sunshine flitting over it in rapid succession; but the shadows rested longer, and the sunshine was more transient.

I could see every pebble on the path, and every blade of grass, by that splendid moon.

And we'll see if one tree won't grow as crooked as another, with the same wind to twist it!

I wish I were a girl again, half savage and hardy, and free...I'm sure I should be myself were I once among the heather on those hills.

A mi espalda, brillaba aún el sol y ante mí se levantaba la luna.

What have those lonely mountains worth revealing? More glory and more grief than I can tell:

Winter is not here yet. There's a little flower, up yonder, the last bud from the multitude of bluebells that clouded those turf steps in July with a lilac mist. Will you clamber up and pluck it to show papa?