Quotes About Nature

Symbolic of life, hair bolts from our head[s]. Like the earth, it can be harvested, but it will rise again. We can change its color and texture when the mood strikes us, but in time it will return to its original form, just as Nature will in time turn our precisely laid-out cities into a weed-way.

I will not dishonor my soul with hatred, but offer myself humbly as a guardian of nature, as a healer of misery, as a messenger of wonder, as an architect of peace. I will honor all life —wherever and in whatever form it may dwell—on Earth my home, and in the mansions of the stars.

When I go biking, I repeat a mantra of the day's sensations: bright sun, blue sky, warm breeze, blue jay's call, ice melting and so on. This helps me transcend the traffic, ignore the clamorings of work, leave all the mind theaters behind and focus on nature instead. I still must abide by the rules of the road, of biking, of gravity. But I am mentally far away from civilization. The world is breaking someone else's heart.

We would lie on coral sand, below sugary stars, watching Cassiopeia mount her throne and the Great Bear wash its paws in the South. I would say, "I have a secret to tell you." And, folding me in your arms, boyish and sly, you would answer: "Whisper it into my mouth.

There's no place you can go on the prairie that you don't hear the white noise of the wind, steady and rough as surf curling along a non-existant shore.

There was nothing to do but wait. It is always like this for naturalists, and for poets--the long hours of travel and preparation, and then the longer hours of waiting. All for that one electric, pulse-revving vision when the universe suddenly declares itself.

Why was it, she asked herself, that 'animals can sometimes subdue their predatory ways in only a few months, while humans, despite centuries of refinement, can quickly grow more savage than any beast.

She tried to walk softly and wished the trees wouldn't stare at her so.

The man who heard the land was not farming, was not hunting, was not gathering wood for the log pile beside the house, but was an ordinary man driving on a highway, and the car stopped, and he heard the land. He thought it might have been the wind he heard, but knew it was the land. He couldn't understand the words, but he knew the land was speaking.

The trees were a seed inside a sail. In the piano music he heard the land; dust on a road, the sun sinking behind earth, the moon in the dark sky, a field of water after rain. It was as if the land gave him an awareness. It was an augmentation or development of some part of himself.

When happiness settles upon you like a butterfly, sit very quiet and remember the colors

And in that moment with the warmth of the sun and coolness of the rock and the mountains and cedar all around her, she knew she would be okay with whatever happened to her. And with that thought, never before had she felt so free.

I am a garden of earthly delights. I am the apple you would fall for a thousand times.

We planted a tree and that one tree made the world better.

We planted a tree and it grew up. And so did we.

I grew up where the family of butterflies the Silver Cloud is native.

It is easy to forget, not that we ever should, that everything in this world is an accident, including the origin of life itself, plus the accumulation of riches. We should show more respect for nature, not less. An accident isn't necessarily ever over. "Scratching The Head

Keep in mind, we are past the age of enlightenment. This is past reason. We are pretty deep into modern history and the decline of religion. This is when nature itself has been stripped bare of its cozy personality and we all feel homeless in our natures as well. "The Limits Of The World

They know, they just know where to grow, how to dupe you, and how to camouflage themselves among the perfectly respectable plants, they just know, and therefore, I've concluded weeds must have brains.

A wave never strikes the shoreline twice

If horses can't eat it, I won't play on it.

If a horse can't eat it, I don't want to play on it.

itt was snowing as if you could hear wolves howling

Waiting is not praise, though it is closely related to praise and flows directly from it. Praise is verbalizing our esteem of God. Waiting is a time of silent love. Praise cries boldly, "God, I see these excellent qualities in your nature." Waiting says softly, "God, I love you.