Quotes About Nature

A year doesn't matter; ten years are nothing. To be an artist means not to compute or count; it means to ripen as the tree, which does not force its sap, but stands unshaken in the storms of spring with no fear that summer might not follow. It will come regardless. But it comes only to those who live as though eternity stretches before them, carefree, silent, and endless.

if there is nothing in common between you and other people, try being close to things, they will not desert you; there are the nights still and the winds that go through the trees and across many lands; among things and with the animals everything is still full of happening, in which you may participate;

if there is nothing in common between you and other people, try being close to things, they will not desert you; there are the nights still and the winds that go through the trees and across many lands; among things and with the animals everything is still full of happening;

If there is nothing in common between you and other people, try being close to things, they will not desert you; there are the nights still and the winds that go through the trees and across many lands; among things and with the animals everything is still happening, in which you may participate; and children are still the way you were as a child, sad like that and happy.

Love is something difficult and it is more difficult than other things because in other conflicts nature herself enjoins men to collect themselves, to take themselves firmly in hand with all their strength, while in the heightening of love the impulse is to give oneself wholly away.

There is here no measuring with time, no year matters, and ten years are nothing. Being an artist means, not reckoning and counting, but ripening like the tree which does not force its sap and stands confident in the storms of spring without the fear that after them may come no summer.

For the creator must be a world for himself and find everything in himself and in Nature to whom he has attached himself.

Ich lebe mein Leben in wachsenden Ringen, die sich über die Dinge ziehn. Ich werde den letzten vielleicht nicht vollbringen, aber versuchen will ich ihn. Ich kreise um Gott, um den uralten Turm, und ich kreise jahrtausendelang; und ich weiß noch nicht: bin ich ein Falke, ein Sturm oder ein großer Gesang.

Women, in whom life abides and dwells more immediately, more fruitfully and more trustingly, are bound to have ripened more thoroughly, become more human human beings, than a man, who is all too light and has not been pulled down beneath the surface of life by the weight of a bodily fruit and who, in his arrogance and impatience, undervalues what he thinks he loves.

Understand, I'll slip quietly away from the noisy crowd when I see the pale stars rising, blooming, over the oaks.

Warum, wenn es angeht, also die Frist des Daseins hinzubringen, als Lorbeer, ein wenig dunkler als alles andere Grün, mit kleinen Wellen an jedem Blattrand (wie eines Windes Lächeln) –: warum dann Menschliches müssen – und, Schicksal vermeidend, sich sehnen nach Schicksal?. .

you would cry out as purely as a bird when the quickly ascending season lifts him up, nearly forgetting that he is a suffering creature and not just a single heart being flung into brightness, into the intimate skies.

I want everything quiet and simple. For me: walking barefoot, sitting still, reading, listening to stories and now and then telling some myself. Eating fruit, drinking milk, longing to create, but with patience and many insights.

Çünkü mutludur, kendilerinden uzaklaÅŸmam?? olanlar sessizce, çat?s?z, yaÄŸmurun alt?nda duranlar

Why, if this interval of being can be spent serenely in the form of a laurel, slightly darker than all other green, with tiny waves on the edges of every leaf (like the smile of a breeze)—: why then have to be human—and, escaping from fate, keep longing for fate? . . .

To be an artist means not to compute or count; it means to ripen as the tree, which does not force its sap, but stands unshaken in the storms of spring with no fear that summer might not follow.

A ella sólo nosotros la vemos; el animal libre tiene siempre su ocaso detrás de si y ante sí tiene a Dios, y cuando anda, anda en la eternidad, como andan las fuentes. Nosotros nunca tenemos, ni siquiera un solo día, el espacio puro ante nosotros, al que las flores se abren infinitamente.

To be an artist means: not to reckon and count; to ripen like the tree which does not force its sap and stands confident in the storms of Spring without fear lest no Summer might come after. It does come. But it comes only to the patient ones, who are there as if eternity lay in front of them, so unconcernedly still and far. I am learning it daily, learning it through pains to which I am grateful: patience is all!

Dann brachte mir dein Brief den sanften Segen, ich wußte, daß es keine Ferne gibt: Aus allem Schönen gehst du mir entgegen, mein Frühlingswind du, du mein Sommerregen, du meine Juninacht mit tausend Wegen, auf denen kein Geweihter schritt vor mir: ich bin in dir!

Weißt du, ich will mich schleichen leise aus lautem Kreis, wenn ich erst die bleichen Sterne über den Eichen blühen weiß. Wege will ich erkiesen, die selten wer betritt in blassen Abendwiesen? und keinen Traum, als diesen: Du gehst mit.

Die Blätter fallen, fallen wie von weit, als welkten in den Himmeln ferne Gärten; sie fallen mit verneinender Gebärde. Und in den Nächten fällt die schwere Erde aus allen Sternen in die Einsamkeit. Wir alle fallen. Diese Hand da fällt. Und sieh dir andre an: es ist in allen. Und doch ist Einer, welcher dieses Fallen unendlich sanft in seinen Händen hält.

Death is our friend, precisely because it brings us into absolute and passionate presence with all that is here, that is natural, that is love.

Aku ada buku, aku tak perlukan pakaian atau sepatu khusus untuk berjalan ke perbukitan.

You cannot have a deep sympathy with both man & nature. Those qualities which bring you near to the one estrange you from the other."