Quotes About Nature

But make no mistake: the weeds will win; nature bats last.

Walking Distance: Extraordinary Hikes for Ordinary People).

The soul," he'd said one night by a campfire in the Valley of the Kings, "is like a falcon. Despite its loyalty to the falconer, it longs to fly free. When my time comes, let my soul soar into the wind and the sky. Wherever its natural home is meant to be, that's where it will go.

The natural world was a tightly integrated web, and every time humans messed with it, there were as many unintended consequences as there were intentional. But that was a lesson nobody ever seemed to learn. Maybe

The natural world was a tightly integrated web, and every time humans messed with it, there were as many unintended consequences as there were intentional. But that was a lesson nobody ever seemed to learn.

is like a falcon. Despite its loyalty to the falconer, it longs to fly free. When my time comes, let my soul soar into the wind and the sky. Wherever its natural home is meant to be, that's where it will go." Although she had found such

The soul," he'd said one night by a campfire in the Valley of the Kings, "is like a falcon. Despite its loyalty to the falconer, it longs to fly free. When my time comes, let my soul soar into the wind and the sky. Wherever its natural home is meant to be, that's

the trees were ancient and old,

If only there were a way, he thought, that every living creature could survive without doing injury to any other. The world had been constructed along bloody lines, of that there was no doubt, and it remained a puzzle at least as baffling as the unified field theory he had been seeking so long.

only there were a way, he thought, that every living creature could survive without doing injury to any other. The world had been constructed along bloody lines, of that there was no doubt, and it remained a puzzle at least as baffling as the unified field theory he had been seeking so long.

his view, a corpse was merely an empty vessel for the spirit it had housed. "The soul," he'd said one night by a campfire in the Valley of the Kings, "is like a falcon. Despite its loyalty to the falconer, it longs to fly free. When my time comes, let my soul soar into the wind and the sky. Wherever its natural home is meant to be, that's where it will go." Although she had found such

The storm to end all storms is coming," he had said, "and the only question is going to be who wields the lightning and the thunder." Oppenheimer had always been prone to such melodramatic language. "It has to be us.

soul," he'd said one night by a campfire in the Valley of the Kings, "is like a falcon. Despite its loyalty to the falconer, it longs to fly free. When my time comes, let my soul soar into the wind and the sky. Wherever its natural home is meant to be, that's where it will go.

The God of Exodus is the God of history and of political liberation more than he is the God of nature.

Other religions think in terms of cosmos and nature; Christianity, rooted in Biblical sources, thinks in terms of history.

Designing story tests the maturity and insight of the writer, his knowledge of society, nature, and the human heart. Story demands both vivid imagination and powerful analytic thought. Self-expression is never an issue, for, wittingly or unwittingly, all stories, honest and dishonest, wise and foolish, faithfully mirror their maker, exposing his humanity … or lack of it.

Designing story tests the maturity and insight of the writer, his knowledge of society, nature, and the human heart.

La vida es conflicto. Ésa es su naturaleza. El escritor debe decidir dónde y cómo orquestar su lucha.

True character is revealed in the choices a human being makes under pressure - the greater the pressure, the deeper the revelation, the truer the choice to the character's essential nature.

Where the slanting forest eaves, Shingled tight with greenest leaves, Sweep the scented meadow-sedge, Let us snoop along the edge; Let us pry in hidden nooks, Laden with our nature books, Scaring birds with happy cries, Chloroforming butterflies, Rooting up each woodland plant, Pinning beetle, fly, and ant, So we may identify What we've ruined, by-and-by.

Let us probe the silent places, let us seek what luck betide us; Let us journey to a lonely land I know. There's a whisper on the night-wind, there's a star agleam to guide us, And the Wild is calling, calling...let us go

Yet it isn't the gold that I'm wanting So much as just finding the gold. It's the great, big, broad land 'way up yonder, It's the forests where silence has lease; It's the beauty that thrills me with wonder, It's the stillness that fills me with peace.

On the whole I consider the constant need for delight and diversion in completely new things to be a sign of pettiness, lack of inner life, of estrangement from nature, and of a mediocre or defective gift of understanding.

Debería estar completamente solo en este mundo, yo, Steiner, sin ninguna otra criatura. Sin sol, sin cultura. Yo, desnudo sobre una gran piedra sin tormentas, sin nieve, sin bancos, sin dinero, sin tiempo y sin respiración. Entonces, por fin, dejaría de tener miedo.