Quotes About Woods

I promise not to try to get you back into the woods." He paused. "For at least forty-eight hours." I laughed. "So you are on a schedule." "No, I'm impatient. But I will wait." "For forty-eight hours. And if there's no make-out session by then, time's up." "No. I said I won't try for forty-eight hours. What happens after that is up to you.

So in sedating him, they were getting rid of our chaperone," I said. "They wanted one of us." I thought of the list Daniel had found, with the word skinwalker on it, and I thought of the man in the woods, who'd called me by name. So I seemed to be the one they wanted. But when I glanced up, Sam looked like a cartoon character with a "Who me?" bubble over her head.

Damned hellhole," he muttered. "Oh, sure, there'll be cell service. Right. The only thing this island has is mosquitoes." Our mosquitoes weren't bad at all--I only had a bite or two after a day in the woods. He was just being cranky. It sounded like the man who'd hit the deer, and obviously, his mood hadn't improved.

Daniel and I helped him up. "Oww…," he said. "There'd have been a bigger oww if he hadn't swerved," I said. "That would not look good on your obituary. Survived a helicopter crash, armed kidnappers, and three days in the woods, only to get mowed down by a passing redneck.

How did Rafe make it back so fast? Same way we did. He stole a ride. A motorcycle. In his case, though, he skipped all the steps between. No tortuous trek through the woods--he'd landed relatively close to a town. No attempts to get help, because Rafe wasn't like us.

As we headed back into the living room, I noticed the phone on the counter. Daniel followed my gaze and laughed. "Um, yeah. We're holed up, waiting to notify someone that we're back…and there's a phone. We've been in the woods way too long.

Hath not old custom made this life more sweetThan that of painted pomp? Are not these woodsMore free from peril than the envious court?

Wild is the music of autumnal winds the faded woods.

From heart-experience, and in humblest sense Of Modesty, that he, who in his youth A daily wanderer among woods and fields With living Nature hath been intimate, Not only in that raw unpractised time Is stirred to ecstasy, as others are, By glittering verse but further, doth receive, In measure only dealt out to himself, Knowledge and increase of enduring joy From the great Nature that exists in works Of mighty Poets.

I have mostly been terrified of listening to scary stories around a campfire. We camp a lot as a family, and at night my dad would try and tell us scary stories. This made eating s'mores difficult. The story would start with something like... 'and the old man who lived in these woods...' I would then run back into the camper terrified.

A DAY IN THE LIFE OF A DOE Unbearably lovely music is heard as the curtain rises, and we see the woods on a summer afternoon. A fawn dances on and nibbles slowly at some leaves. He drifts lazily through the soft foliage. Soon he starts coughing and drops dead.

One of the women took his arm and smiled into his face until he looked at her. "We're going to dance in the woods later, when the moon comes up. You'll have to join us, of course," she said. She batted her eyelashes and added, "It's a full moon, so we'll go skyclad." Simon frowned, trying to work out what she was saying. "Naked, you mean." His mouth fluttered as if he was trying to decide whether to grin sheepishly or lasciviously.

The saddest day in the woods is when birds run out of happy songs to sing.

Believe me, if you're a teenager, you're always in the damned woods. Literally, you're in the woods — probably too much you're in the woods. And metaphorically you're in the woods, in your life.

I must say this now about that first fire. It was magic. Out of dead tinder and grass and sticks came a live warm light. It cracked and snapped and smoked and filled the woods with brightness. It lighted the trees and made them warm and friendly. It stood tall and bright and held back the night.

in the pearly light of a clear, still dawn. March had come in more lamb than lion, there were windflowers in the woods, and the first primroses, unburned by frost, undashed and unmired by further rain, were just opening.

They talked trees from morning till night. It stirred in her the old subconscious trail of dread, a trail that led ever into the darkness of big woods; and such feelings, as her early evangelical training taught her, were temptings. To regard them in any other way was to play with danger.

We fled you others, corrupt compatriots, love without a bed, in the woods its dark arms.

and bodiless black lace woods in which one to another a songbird asks is it light is it light not quite

Old woods can be more than atmospheric, more than merely picturesque; they are sometimes magical. In their shadows wisps of ancient belief can be glimpsed. In what is now called lore, but is actually the residue of belief, Gaelic culture remembers the Creideamh Sith, frivolously translated as 'the Fairy Faith'.

I was faintly aware of the changing light. A shining, shimmering glow seemed to cover the scaffolding and the woods, the P&E barn, and the white tents that caught the fleeting bits of sun. All that was left of the mansion was stone and ash, but my home was there. Forever.

Groundhog?" Hale asked. "No time," Kat replied. "The tunneling alone would take days, and Taccone wouldn't leave these woods unpatrolled for that long.

As the wind, wandering over the sea, takes from each wave an invisible portion, and brings to those on shore the ethereal essence of ocean, so the air lingering among the woods and hedges—green waves and billows—became full of fine atoms of summer.

The sedan went too and I stood alone in the woods and watched my ear burn.