Quotes About Wilderness

a break in the prairie, pulling back the ground cover to reveal the stark

hay farms, scrub forest, and some bald-looking areas of

a city that was to live by night after the wilderness had passed. A city that was to forge out of steel and blood-red neon its own peculiar wilderness.

Part of her soul ... gloried in the sheer bodacious unnaturalness of it. Putting a great blue-green water park smack down in the red desert complete with cactus, trading posts, genuine Navajo Indians, and five kinds of rattlesnakes was theater of the absurd at its most outrageous.

When we gaze into the adoring eyes of a canine companion, we're staring at the carefully muted and shaped soul of a wolf.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. No furniture, no light fittings, no carpet, no bodies. Not a single body. Nothing but the million ducks, the three million ducklings and a window.

In the wild waste, a girl, growing.

They are noisy; their untidy feet snap twigs and kick stones without heed for what might hear.

Galloping over the Yorkshire moors, wild as a lynx, with Christie Horley. Another life I had left.

Wolf eyes," she whispered, and I could feel her breath on my throat, "so pale and hungry.

While she watched, she let her own feet find their way; she knew every root, every rut and hare scrape, every fallen bough in this glade.

Hidden in the leafy canopy, sometimes she stayed so still and quiet even the birds forgot she was there.

The day Was like the buzzard on the pine.

He saw it. Not in front, or behind him, just somewhere out in the darkness. It was huge and powerful. The whiteness of its fur gleamed in the light of the snow. 'Wolf, in the name of the Polish border I beg you to spare my life,' he said into the darkness. The wolf stopped behind him, wondering.

he sees immortal blackberry bushes, darkened by the sun, clinging to the rocks with their long shoots.

He may give you a time spiritually, with no word from Himself at all, just as His Son experienced during His time of temptation in the wilderness.

Molly liked the Virginian for his blush. It made him very handsome. But she thought that it came from his confession about "pretty near crying." The deeper cause she failed to divine,—that he, like the dying hero in the novel, felt himself to be a giant whom life had made "broad gauge," and denied opportunity. Fecund nature begets and squanders thousands of these rich seeds in the wilderness of life.

Boone was a hunter of the everything-has-to-be-hard-and-painful-to-be-good variety, and there was nothing he liked better than a six- or seven-hour belly crawl through the soggy green tundra.

I did not want to think about people. I wanted the trees, the scents and colors, the shifting shadows of the wood, which spoke a language I understood. I wished I could simply disappear in it, live like a bird or a fox through the winter, and leave the things I had glimpsed to resolve themselves without me.

Charles was most comfortable by himself or, if that wasn't possible, with his pack in the wild. Talking for hours in a crowded auditorium was not on any list of things he enjoyed—or things he was good at. At least no one had died. Yet.

Afterward we drove out to the Hanford Reservation and ran as a wolf and coyote through the open terrain. He didn't have Samuel's ability to throw off all his humanity and revel in the joy of being a wild thing. Instead, he played with the same intensity he used for everything. Which meant that when I chase him, I wasn't really sure I wanted to catch him - and when he chased me, I felt like a rabbit.

Stupid young girls who get caught alone in the forest fall prey to anything that crosses their paths, be the beast animal, human or shapeshifter.

They were surrounded by mountains and forest. There were no nearby houses. The closest neighbor was a half mile away.

The machete was needed anytime you had to slash out your own trail. This necessity arose more often than a person who is not a kid with a machete might think.