Quotes About Woods

The sun disappeared into the woods and shadows started slinking out from between the trees. short story, Pumpkin

My woods...the young fir balsams like a place Where houses all are churches and have spires.

Come live with me and be my love, And we will all the pleasures prove, That valleys, groves, hills, and fields, Woods, or steepy mountain yields.

But you can't plead with autumn. No. The midnight wind stalked through the woods, hooted to frighten you, swept everything away for the approaching winter, whirled the leaves. ("The North")

You can't plead with autumn. No. The midnight wind stalked through the woods, hooted to frighten you, swept everything away for the approaching winter, whirled the leaves.

In the middle of the night, she'd woken up with a memory of her grandmother's voice ringing in her ears. "When it happens," the older woman had said, holding on to Jenna's hand with surprising strength for someone with one foot in the grave, "and it will, don't stay in the cities. She can find you in the city. Too many eyes and whispering tongues that no one can see. Run to the woods, far away from everything and everyone you ever knew. Run, girl, run as far and as fast as you can.

Do you want to tell me what you're doing up here in the middle of the woods?" He gazed at her milky white skin, dark hair, and wide eyes. "If you're looking for the seven dwarfs, they live in the next forest over.

Or I just sent my dragon into the woods to fetch rodents for you because I'm the wicked witch your grandmother warned you about.

When Esther and Joe - resolutely urban, nurtured by density, neurosis, and the Great Depression - discovered the woods, they never wanted to leave.

I dug into my purse and pulled out a mini bottle of perfume, Serge Lutens's Féminité du Bois. Tart plum and sweet, spicy woods, but light and shimmery too. A

A developer is someone who wants to build a house in the woods. An environmentalist is someone who already has a house in the woods.

Mila held out a dress so lovely that Snow gasped. She lovingly touched the blue bodice with the cap sleeves that had red accents woven throughout and the shining yellow satin. She hadn't had anything new to wear in a very long time. She almost hesitated to put the dress on- what if she ruined it in the woods? But when else would she have a chance to wear such a fine gown? She slipped into it with glee.

Fairy tales give it to us straight. They tell us something profound and essential - that the woods are real, and dark, and full of wolves. That we will, at times, find ourselves hopelessly lost in them. But these tales also tell us that we are all that we need, that we have all we need - guts, smarts, and maybe a pocketful of breadcrumbs - to find our way home.

If it had been me in the woods, if I'd been the one to go with Briggs, if I'd been the one you saw at the exact second . . . would it have been me? He didn't finish the question and I didn't answer it

Dana asked his wife on numerous occasions, "Wouldn't it be nice to live where you could walk in the woods on a Sunday afternoon?" It became Esther's dream also.

When you find a skull in the woods, do you leave it alone because it disturbs you or do you leave it alone because of what's living inside?

Every woman's body is an intimate landscape. The hills, the valleys, the narrow ledges, the riverbanks, the sudden eruptions of soft or crinkling hair. Here are the plains, the fine dry slopes. Here are the woods, here is the smooth path to the only door I wish to walk through. Eleanor's body is the landscape of my true home.

Whipped cream isn't whipped cream at all unless it's been whipped with whips. Just as a poached egg isn't a poached egg unless it's been stolen from the woods in the dead of night!

A true sportsman is a hunter lost in the woods and out of ammo.

Wildfire did not run through dry woods as fast as gossip ran through women.

The woods call to us with a hundred voices, but the sea has one only — a mighty voice that drowns our souls in its majestic music. The woods are human, but the sea is of the company of the archangels.

But there is always a November space after the leaves have fallen when she felt it was almost indecent to intrude on the woods…for their glory terrestrial had departed and their glory celestial of spirit and purity and whiteness had not yet come upon them.

The woods are never solitary--they are full of whispering, beckoning, friendly life. But the sea is a mighty soul, forever moaning of some great, unshareable sorrow, which shuts it up into itself for all eternity.

Have you ever noticed how many silences there are Gilbert? The silence of the woods....of the shore....of the meadows....of the night....of the summer afternoon. All different because the undertones that thread them are different.