Quotes About Woods

A young girl would go into the wood as trustingly as Red Riding Hood to her granny's house but this light admits no ambiguities and, here, she will be trapped in her own illusion because everything in the woods is exactly as it seems.

The trees that have it in their pent-up buds To darken nature and be summer woods -

Whose woods these are I think I know.His house is in the village though;He will not see me stopping hereTo watch his woods fill up with snow.

Around the new mother, three deities mounted guard against the dreaded violence of Silvanus, that 'fierce, terrifying, rough' demon of the woods (Aug., CG, 6, 9, 2): they were Intercidona (for without the blade of the axe one cannot cut trees intercidere); Pilumnus (for without the pestle one cannot make flour), and Deverra (for without the broom one cannot pile up the grain).

and again she wished for Sherwood, and the dappled roof of leaves that never weighed upon her. She pulled her scarf closer around her and thought, I would rather live in a hut in the woods; a hut like the one of my first memories, with a clean-swept dirt floor, and a brown-eyed boy watching me from behind his mother's skirts as I watched him from behind mine.

Now he felt the despair his father had felt as the familiar world slipped from around him, the valleys gashed and ugly, the woods disappearing. Daddy was right, he thought, the hills were dying, and I was so stupid to believe the hills were eternal, that a father could stay forever young. If only I had talked to him. If only he had let me get close to him.

I felt a little envious for a second. If I got offed in the woods late one night, I doubted if three tough guys would go straight to someone's office, eight in the morning, champing at the bit, ready for revenge. Then I looked at the three of them again and thought, This particular perp could be in a shitload of trouble. All I'd have to do is drop a name.

In spring, when woods are getting green, I'll try and tell you what I mean.

I'm sure the woods look sleepy in the autumn, when the leaves are getting brown.

In Winter, when the fields are white, I sing this song for your delight. In Spring, when the woods are getting green, I'll try and tell you what i mean. In Summer, when the days are long, perhaps you'll understand the song. In Autumn, when the leaves are brown, take pen and ink, and write it down.

It was a prolonged, mournful howl, into which Cyril put all the sorrow of the canine condition: a howl that seemed to express deep nostalgia for the woods, for the snowy wastes of his lupine ancestors' ancient homelands, for all the sense of loss and separation that a dog feels when his master, his reason for living, his sun, is no longer there.

Sauvage, sombre, silencieuse Biche des bois toujours amoureuse

Out in the country, autumn was busy daubing the woods in orange and yellow. Rooks and gulls argued over newly ploughed fields. Behind veils of little cobwebs, the hedgerows blushed with berries.

He tousled Baby's hair, then looked up at Tiger Lily. "The woods have rules." He put Baby down gingerly in his trough with his bottle. "But the rules are ugly." "It's nature," she said, thoughtfully. "I have a lot of disagreements with nature," he said, looking confused, and his downy brow wrinkled over his eyes.

West Virginia was mysterious and it liked to keep to itself. It hid in the folds of mountains, resting in the cool shade. It was sweet, beautiful, and bashful. Its woods held its secrets or at least it seemed that way to May.

A Path in the Woods from a New Name" I don't trust the truth of memories because what leaves us departs forever There's only one current of this sacred river but I still want to remain faithful to my first astonishments to recognize as wisdom the child's wonder and to carry in myself until the end a path in the woods of my childhood dappled with patches of sunlight

No matter how fancy it all looked or how large the city, humans were still closing the equivalent of stockade doors at night and shivering in fear of what watched them from the woods and fields.

I believe that the world isn't always what we can see...I believe there are secrets in the woods. And I believe that goodness wins out...So, if someone's changed overnight - by witch curse or poison apple or were-turtle - you have to show them what's good. You show them love. That works a surprising amount of the time.

She looked at her shelves, filled with books in which the bad stuff that happened to people was caused by things like witches who lured people into the woods. In a weird way, the world seemed to make more sense that way.

In woods where the woodsmen told lies, maybe it was the wolves who told the truth.

I believe that the world isn't always what we can see," he said. "I believe there are secrets in the woods. And I believe that goodness wins out." He gave Hazel a serious look. "So, if someone's changed overnight—by witch curse or poison apple or were-turtle—you have to show them what's good. You show them love. That works a surprising amount of the time. And if that doesn't save them, they're not worth saving.

Once upon a time, there was a boy named Jack who got lost in the woods. His best friend went after him. Along the way, she had many adventures. She met woodsmen, witches, and wolves. She found her friend in the thrall of a queen who lived in a palace of ice and had a heart to match. She rescued him with the help of a magical object. And they returned home, together, and they lived on, somehow, ever after. It went something like that, anyway.

It was not supposed to be this easy. This was to be the final confrontation. There was to be struggle, torment, despair. But the witch—who was the only person in the woods who wanted nothing—was not what Hazel had to defeat.

The woods are full of regional writers, and it is the great horror of every serious Southern writer that he will become one of them.