Quotes About Nature

The harder the bargain men must strike with nature to survive, the more rules they're likely to have amongst themselves too keep them all in order

Yet wild things have a far more rational fear of us than is ours of them...

Sometimes he lays his head on my lap and lets me comb his lovely hair for him; his combings are leaves of every tree in the wood and dryly susurrate around my feet.

Vengeful as nature herself, she loves her children only in order to devour them better and if she herself rips her own veils of self-deceit, Mother perceives in herself untold abysses of cruelty as subtle as it is refined.

Necessary connections are fabulous beasts.

For I am not natural, you know - even though, if you cut me, I will bleed.

He strips me of my last nakedness, that underskin of mauve, pearlized satin, like a skinned rabbit; then dresses me again in an embrace so lucid and encompassing it might be made of water. And shakes over me dead leaves as if into the stream I have become.

certo, una madre è sempre una madre, perché è un fatto biologico, mentre un padre è una festa mobile.

Those are the voices of my brothers, darling; I love the company of wolves.

The tiger will never lie down with the lamb; he acknowledges no pact that is not reciprocal. The lamb must learn to run with the tigers.

Breathe beauty.

cold nips ears bites sides snaps trees can't hide crusts snow covers grass thickens water frozen fast invades lungs mists breath shivers skin makes death

The painting was fantastic, even though this one didn't have mustangs in it. It was simply a landscape of a snowy field and trees and distant mountains,

He says there are three kinds of people in any society, because people are tripartite. What does that mean?" "Comprised of three parts. Plato believes humans are appetite, spirit, and reason. But I am not certain HaShem would agree. The Torah tells us that man is body and soul.

I suppose everybody has a mental picture of the days of the week, some seeing them as a circle, some as an endless line, and others again, for all I know, as triangles and cubes. Mine is a wavy line proceeding to infinity, dipping to Wednesday which is the colour of old silver dark with polishing and rising again to a pale gold Sunday. This day has a feeling in my picture of warmth and light breezes and sunshine and afternoons that stretch to infinity and mornings full of far-off bells.

At first the baby was so transported with wrath, that it shrieked more loudly than before, but after a while nature asserted itself against imbecility and with one great heave and spasm of fury it suddenly became like the jelly smoother than the creamy curd, its vengeful limbs relaxed, and with long shuddering breaths it began to suck its bottle, both hands clutching the beloved object and an angry suspicious eye roving the nursery against the possible approach of milk-thieves.

I trust the mystery. I trust what comes in silence and what comes in nature where there's no diversion. I think the lack of stimulation allows us to hear and experience a deeper river that's constant, still, vibrant, and real. And the process of deep listening with attention and intention catalyzes and mobilizes exactly what's needed at that time.

Elisabeta era o fiin?? care tr?ia o via?? interioar? intens? ÅŸi care p?rea c? face parte din natur?, din roci ÅŸi furtuni, din nori ÅŸi din apa din fântâni, din culorile nemaipomenite ale cerului ÅŸi din umbrele ierburilor.

At the Spring Dawn I watched the dawn come, Watched the spring dawn come. And the red sun shouldered his way up Through the grey, through the blue, Through the lilac mists. The quiet of it! The goodness of it! And one bird awoke, sang, whirred A blur of moving black against the sun, Sang again—afar off. And I stretched my arms to the redness of the sun, Stretched to my finger tips, And I laughed. Ah! It is good to be alive, good to love, At the dawn, At the spring dawn.

Life was simple when you were a Shield Bug.

Oh it's a pebble... But it's a really nice pebble Dad thanks.

The dragon reared her head, breathing in the storm and loving every minute of it. It was the start of a voyage, and a storm at the beginning of a voyage was always a good omen.

Soon fifty-six Shield Bugs were lined up, crouching like coiled springs on the gunnels of the chicken boat.

The Shield Bug was happy. It had an enemy. It had a sword. Soon the sword would meet the enemy. Life was simple when you were a Shield Bug.