Quotes About Nature

I thought that storm was brief, — The maddest, quickest by; But Nature lost the date of this, And left it in the sky.

Each that we lose takes part of us; A crescent still abides, Which like the moon, some turbid night, Is summoned by the tides.

Stands the sun so close and mighty That our minds are hot.

And only the waves reply.

Bring me the sunset in a cup." ? Emily Dickinson

In snow thou comest Thou shalt go with resuming ground The sweet derision of thx crow And Glee's advancing sound

To my quick ear the Leaves — conferred — The Bushes — they were Bells — I could not find a Privacy From Nature's sentinels — In Cave if I presumed to hide The Walls — begun to tell — Creation seemed a mighty Crack — To make me visible —

To hear an Oriole sing May be a common thing — Or only a divine. It is not of the Bird Who sings the same, unheard, As unto Crowd — The Fashion of the Ear Attireth that it hear In Dun, or fair — So whether it be Rune, Or whether it be none Is of within. The Tune is in the Tree — The Skeptic — showeth me — No Sir! In Thee!

She dropt as softly as a star From out my summer's eve;

The reticent volcano keeps His never slumbering plan ; Confided are his projects pink To no precarious man. If nature will not tell the tale Jehovah told to her, Can human nature not survive Without a listener? Admonished by her buckled lips Let every babbler be. The only secret people keep Is Immortality.

The thunder crumbled like a stuff — How good to be safe in tombs, Where nature's temper cannot reach

Was dying as he thought, or different; Was it a pleasant day to die, And did the sunshine face his way?

Remember and care for me sometimes, and scatter a fragrant flower in this wilderness life of mine by writing me.

Ma Rivière coule vers Toi - Mer bleue - Veux-tu m'accueillir ? Ma Rivière attend une réponse. Ô Mer - montre-toi bienveillante ! J'irai te chercher des Ruisseaux Dans des vallons diaprés - Allez Mer - tu me prends ?

Will there really be a Morning? Is there such a thing as Day? Could I see it from the mountains If I were as tall as they? Has it feet like Water lilies? Has it feathers like a Bird? Is it brought from famous countries Of which I have never heard? Oh some Scholar! Oh some Sailor! Oh some Wise Men from the skies! Please to tell a little Pilgrim Where the place called Morning lies!

La genciana trenza sus bordes, el telar del arce está rojo. Mis flores moribundas eluden la ostentación.

Her breast is fit for pearls, But I was not a "Diver" – Her brow is fit for thrones But I have not a crest. Her heart is fit for home – I – a Sparrow- build there Sweet of twigs and twine My perennial nest

Some things that fly there be, — Birds, hours, the bumble-bee:

I'll tell you how the sun rose, — A ribbon at a time.

Fulfilling absolute decree in casual simplicity.

he can see alice in wet leaves, first as kids, when they'd jump in them, then as teenagers, when she would lie on the cold ground and he'd cover her with red, orange, and yellow fallen leaves and he would wait for her, wait for her with his heart racing, hoping he hadn't covered her up so much she couldn't jump up, bringing them both to action.

It's simply human nature to have an occasional, fleeting interest in someone whom you once loved.

I'm not saying it's healthy to be past-obsessed, ferreting out details of every ex. But it's simply human nature to have an occasional, fleeting interest in someone whom you once loved.

It's a matter of curiosity—and anyone who says they are utterly indifferent to what their significant exes are doing is, in my opinion, either lying or lacking a certain amount of emotional depth. I'm not saying it's healthy to be past-obsessed, ferreting out details of every ex. But it's simply human nature to have an occasional, fleeting interest in someone whom you once loved.