Quotes About Nature

On the ragged edge of the world I'll roam. And the home of the wolf will be my home.

The standard by which we will be judged and by which we should evaluate ourselves is not the pragmatic standard of the world. Being church and being disciples of Christ is not like driving a Plymouth to Dallas. While the world should look upon Jesus's life and ministry as failures and what he calls us to be as foolish, futile, and contrary to our nature, the Word teaches the church a new meaning of success and calls us to follow him.

Why should the Mass of Sainte Cécile bend my thoughts wandering among caverns whose walls blaze with ragged masses of virgin silver? What was it in the roar and turmoil of Broadway at six o'clock that flashed before my eyes the picture of a still Breton forest where sunlight filtered through spring foliage and Sylvia bent, half curiously, half tenderly, over a small green lizard, murmuring: "To think that this also is a little ward of God!

Why should certain chords in music make me think of the brown and golden tints of autumn foliage?

Ferme tes yeux à demi, Croise tes bras sur ton sein, Et de ton cÅ"ur endormi Chasse à jamais tout dessein."   "Je chante la nature, Les étoiles du soir, les larmes du matin, Les couchers de soleil à l'horizon lointain, Le ciel qui parle au cÅ"ur d'existence future!

Je chante la nature, Les étoiles du soir, les larmes du matin, Les couchers de soleil à l'horizon lointain, Le ciel qui parle au cÅ"ur d'existence future!

I have clinched and closed with the naked North, I have learned to defy and defend; Shoulder to shoulder we have fought it out — yet the Wild must win in the end.

Yea, I am one with all I see, With wind and wave, with pine and palm; Their very elements in me Are fused to make me what I am. Through me their common life-stream flows, And when I yield this human breath, In leaf and blossom, bud and rose, Live on I will…. There is no Death

To make my body a temple pure Wherein I dwell serene; To care for the things that shall endure, The simple, sweet and clean. To oust out envy and hate and rage, To breathe with no alarm; For Nature shall be my anchorage, And none shall do me harm.

There's sunshine in the heart of me, My blood sings in the breeze; The mountains are a part of me, I'm fellow to the trees. ~

Often I walked in the neighboring forest of fir and pine, whose beauties, wonderful winter solitudes, seemed to protect me from the onset of despair. Ineffably kind voices spoke down to me from the trees: 'You must not come to the hard conclusion that everything in the world is hard, false, and wicked. But come often to us; the forest likes you. In its company you will find health and good spirits again, and entertain more lofty and beautiful thoughts.

Terroir tests the limits of science, it is never precise, it is essentially an untellable story.

The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,But the queerest they ever did seeWas that night on the marge of Lake LebargeI cremated Sam McGee.

This is the Law of the Yukon, that only the strong shall thrive;That surely the weak shall perish, and only the fit survive.Dissolute, damned and despairful, crippled and palsied and slain,This is the Will of the Yukon—Lo, how she makes it plain!

Sad and sweet and wise Here a child reposes Dust is on his eyes, Quietly he lies - Satan, strew Roses.

The truth of one's own real nature is that it is an undivided oneness:

Understanding the often unconscious nature of genetic control is the first step toward understanding that—in many realms, not just sex—we're all puppets, and our best hope for even partial liberation is to try to decipher the logic of the puppeteer.

various people had long had the feeling that gain through pain was nature's way

Natural selection is an inanimate process, devoid of consciousness, yet is a tireless refiner, an ingenious craftsman.

Our entire notion of good and bad, our whole landscape of feelings—fear, lust, love, and the many other feelings, salient and subtle, that inform our everyday thoughts and perceptions—are products of the particular evolutionary history of our species.

emotions are just evolution's executioners.

The truth depends on what we say the truth is. If men are told that the impulse to philander is deeply "natural," essentially irrepressible, then the impulse—for those men, at least— may indeed be so. In Darwin's day, though, men were told something else: that animal impulses are formidable foes but can, with constant and arduous effort, be defeated. This then became, for many men, the truth. Free will was, in an important sense, created by their belief in it.

natural selection doesn't even care about our short-term happiness.

that the stories we tell about things, and thus the beliefs we have about their history and their nature, shape our experience of them, and thus our sense of their essence.