Quotes About Earth

Utopia is a collective shift of perception away. Abundance is all around us. Only our efforts at tower-building blind us to it, our gaze forever skyward, forever seeking to escape this Earth, this feeling, this moment.

Through a million little choices every day, we are cashing in the earth.

I think we're property. I should say we belong to something: That once upon a time, this earth was No-man's Land, that other worlds explored and colonized here, and fought among themselves for possession, but that now it's owned by something: That something owns this earth -- all others warned off.

Why don't they pass a Constitutional Amendment prohibiting anybody from learning anything? If it works as good as Prohibition did, in five years we will have the smartest people on earth.

...a letter is a joy of earth — it is denied the gods.

The miracle is not to fly in the air, or to walk on the water, but to walk on the earth.

People usually consider walking on water or in thin air a miracle. But I think the real miracle is not to walk either on water or in thin air, but to walk on earth. Every day we are engaged in a miracle which we don't even recognize... a blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the black, curious eyes of [your child]...

I had rather be loved than to be called a king in earth, or a lord in Heaven.

It was one of those perfect English autumnal days which occur more frequently in memory than in life. The rich colours of grass and earth were intensified by the mellow light of a sun almost warm enough for spring...

leaves — lovers of the gentle breeze trees — brothers of roots that weave soil — giver of life through earth sun — mother of golden light's birth

God gave all men all earth to love, But since our hearts are small, Ordained for each one spot should prove Beloved over all...

Nathless I'll drive me to thy deepest sweet, Yea, richlier shall that pain the pollen beat From me to thee, for oft these pollens be Fine dust from wars that poets wage for thee. But, O beloved Earthbloom soft a-shine Upon the universal Jessamine... Yield, yield the heartsome honey love to me Hid in thy nectary!

There is no gravity. The earth sucks.

The last best hope of earth, two trillion dollars in debt, is spinning out of control, and all we can do is stare at a flickering cathode-ray tube as Ollie answers questions on TV while the press, resolutely irrelevant as ever, asks politicians if they have committed adultery. From V-J Day 1945 to this has been, my fellow countrymen, a perfect nightmare.

Entrava dia e saía dia. As noites cobriam a terra de chofre. A tampa anilada baixava, escurecia, quebrada apenas pelas vermelhidões do poente.

There is no gravity. The earth sucks.

He said he preferred to feel the earth sing through his feet, and that shoes stopped you from hearing the song of the earth.

He (the Emperor) once said of ancient Earth that there were torches, who were the teachers, but also extinguishers, who were the priests.

Of all the planets apart from Earth in our solar system, Mars is the most hospitable. Yeah. Right. Better keep my visit short. And yet, despite the discomfort, the danger, I love it here. I love coming back for these imaginary vacations. The sights are amazing.

This world's a treasure, Donald. But she's been telling us to leave for a while now. Mankind was born on Earth. It was never meant to die here.

The earth is mostly just a boneyard. But pretty in the sunlight. – Larry McMurtry

As, when the sun shines above the earth, the shadow is spread over its lower part, because its spherical shape makes it impossible for it to be clasped all round at one and the same time by the rays, and necessarily, on whatever side the sun's rays may fall on some particular point of the globe, if we follow a straight diameter, we shall find shadow upon the opposite point, and so, continuously, at the opposite end of the direct line of the rays shadow moves round that globe,

This is what was bequeathed us: This earth the beloved left And, leaving, Left to us. No other world But this one: Willows and the river And the factory With its black smokestacks. No other shore, only this bank On which the living gather. No meaning but what we find here. No purpose but what we make. That, and the beloved's clear instructions: Turn me into song; sing me awake.

Stop! let me go back because the sparkling frost covers the yard and now your last stop on Earth is frozen