Quotes About Nature

For the beauty of the earth For the glory of the skies, For the love which from our birth Over and around us lies. Lord of all to Thee we raise This our hymn of grateful praise. For the beauty of each hour, Of the day and of the night, Hill and vale, and tree and flower, Sun and moon, and stars of light. Lord of all to Thee we raise This our hymn of grateful praise.

The billions of flowers blooming around the globe are preachers with a single message: "Don't worry! God cares for our needs.

Scientists aren't responsible for the facts that are in nature. It's their job to find the facts. There's no sin connected with it—no morals. If anyone should have a sense of sin, it's God. He put the facts there. —Percy Bridgman

Maybe when a planet's inhabitants begin to comprehend the true nature of the atom and all the energy it contains they become too dangerous to be allowed loose in the universe.

and Jess was looking through his spyglass. He scanned the wooded hillsides around the little

plan to take Jill fishing on the lake you loved, Lake

We're giving up free range, getting organized, feathering our emotions. Efficiency an effectiveness and all those other pieces of intellectual artifice. And with the loss of free range, the cowboy disappears, along with the mountain lion and gray wolf. There's not much room left for travelers.

Things change. They always do, its one of the things of nature. Most people are afraid of change but if you look at it as something you can always count on, then it can be a comfort.

Carlisle wondered if it was still possible for him to live alongside civilization and yet be somewhat apart from it. Find a slice of quiet in the layers of noise, conduct a rain into the noise now and then for some work, take the gold and run like hell back to the quiet place....Flight was no good. You couldn't escape it, whatever 'it' was.

wondering about a man to whom the difference between a pasture and a meadow seemed important, [...] who seemed like the wind. And moved like it. Came from it, perhaps.

To covered bridges in the late afternoon, or, better yet, on warm red mornings.

Neke stvari traju, pomislila je. Hridi, rijeke, stari natkriveni mostovi. A neke stvari ne traju. Vrele kolovoške no?i i sve što sa sobom nose. Izmi?u nam, pa idemo dalje bez njih, naposljetku umremo i nema nam traga.

He had been here just a few minutes before,she was lying where the water had run down his body,and she found that intensely erotic.Almost everything about Robert Kincaid had begun to seem erotic to her.

Some things last, she thought. Rocks, rivers, old covered bridges. And some things don't last. Hot August nights and everything they bring with them. They elude us, so we go on without them, eventually we die and there is no sign of us.

Estamos a desistir da liberdade (...) e com a perda da liberdade, o cowboy desaparece, juntamente com o leão da montanha e o lobo cinzento.

There are songs that come free from the blue-eyed grass, from the dust of a thousand country roads. This is one of them.

I am the highway and a peregrine and all the sails that ever went to sea

The oak fought the wind and was broken, the willow bent when it must and survived.

There is something restful in the unconsciousness of animals—unconscious, that is, of all the things that matter so much to us and do not matter at all to them.

Everyone knows the nature of colic," quipped Frederick of Prussia. "When a heavy drinker dies from colic, it teaches us to be sober," deadpanned Voltaire.

The question is not what will bring down the liberal order but what can possibly hold it up? If the liberal order is like a garden, artificial and forever threatened by the forces of nature, preserving it requires a persistent, unending struggle against the vines and weeds that are constantly working to undermine

In autumn velvety shawls of maroon and sienna drape hillsides that fold down upon willow-braided streams.

Attunement of one's feet to the bald and hairy earth. Consider the blackbird, perched on a reed, a north wind blowing, the water torn. Now is the poem's beginning, even at this late hour in the span of everywhere. Consider the lovers, with not enough arms for all their need to embrace. Or, if you prefer, consider the madness of wars, the impossible weight of oceans. And even if we had been there, would we have laughed or cried?

The conclusion of both modern physics and depth psychology is that things are not what they seem. What we experience as normal reality—about ourselves and nature—is only the tip of an iceberg that arises out of an unfathomable abyss. Knowledge of this hidden realm is the province of the Magician, and it is through the Magician energy that we will come to understand our lives with a degree of profundity not dreamed of for at least a thousand years of Western history.