Quotes About Earth

Moreover, the very belief that Americans had somehow discovered the ultimate answer to mankind's eternal quandaries and were now poised to establish heaven on earth was a delusion that deserved to be ranked alongside the fables about the Holy Grail and the fountain of youth. We may boast that we are one, the chosen people,: he (Adams) warned, and we may even thank God that we are not like other men, but, after all, it would be but flattery, delusion, the self-deceit of the Pharisee.

As in heaven (your own mind), so on earth (in your body and environment). This is the great law of life.

Sadly, I hate foreigners. And Americans. And animals. And flora, and some fauna. Also the magma that is the very core of this our mother earth. I'm full o' hate!

Xander: It could be witches, some evil witches, which is ridiculous cause witched they were persecuted, women power, love the eatrh, and I'll be over here.

We were never perfect. Yet, the journey we make together is perfect on this earth who was once a star and made the same mistakes as humans. We might make them again, she said. Crucial to finding the way is this: there is no beginning or end. You must make your own map.

Remember the earth whose skin you are: red earth, black earth, yellow earth, white earth brown earth, we are earth. Remember the plants, trees, animal life who all have their tribes, their families, their histories, too. Talk to them, listen to them. They are alive poems.

It hasn't always been this way, because glaciers who are ice ghosts create oceans, carve earth and shape this city here, by the sound. They swim backwards in time.

To the destroyers, Earth is not a person. They will want more until there is no more to steal.

The traditional ways and rituals of all of Earth's peoples are kept in containers of poetry, song, and story. It is how we know who we are, where we are coming from and who we are becoming.

You took me once to an older part of earth I'd never seen— where monsters were born and killed. They sacrificed everything and nothing for a taste of this life.

Let the earth stabilize your postcolonial insecure jitters.

Pass this love on, he'd say. It knows how to bend and will never break. It's the only thing with a give and take, The more it's used the more it makes. That love is the bridge that will cross the river home. He'd be standing in the dark with no one listening. How time blows steadily through the city, the trees. Sing to this earth, sing, he sang.

We were never perfect. Yet, the journey we make together is perfect on this earth who was once a star and made the same mistakes as humans. We might make them again, she said.

Each human is a complex, contradictory story. Some stories within us have been unfolding for years, others are trembling with fresh life as they peek above the horizon. Each is a zigzag of emotional design and ancestral architecture. All the stories in the earth's mind are connected.

Black squirrel on a slag of stone--carry me home.

Praise crazy. Praise sad. Praise the path on which we're led. Praise the roads on earth and water. Praise the eater and the eaten. Praise beginnings; praise the end. Praise the song and praise the singer. Praise the rain; it brings more rain. Praise the rain; it brings more rain.

It is utterly naive, futile, uninformed—to think that our species is exceptional. So designated to master the beasts of the Earth, as in the Book of Genesis!

he'd come to earth. Hard.

But the meek (in the end) shall inherit the earth and shall delight themselves in the abundance of peace" (Ps. 37:11).

21 THEN I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away (vanished), and there is no longer any sea. [Is 65:17; 66:22] 2And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, arrayed like a bride adorned for her husband; [John 14:2, 3; Gal 4:26; Heb 11:10]

La tierra, «este valle de lágrimas»

Ni siquiera le robé el espacio a la tierra... me enterraron en tu misma sepultura y cupe muy bien en el hueco de tus brazos. Aquí en este rincón donde me tienes ahora.

No, no era posible calcular la hondura del silencio que produjo aquel grito. Como si la tierra se hubiera vaciado de su aire. Ningún sonido; ni el del resuello, ni el del latir del corazón; como si se detuviera el mismo ruido de la conciencia.

Al recorrerse las nubes, el sol sacaba luz a las piedras, irisaba todo de colores, se bebía el agua de la tierra, jugaba con el aire dándole brillo a las hojas con que jugaba el aire.