Quotes About Harmony

I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers; Of April, May, of June, and July flowers. I sing of Maypoles, Hock-carts, wassails, wakes, Of bridegrooms, brides, and of their bridal cakes. —ROBERT HERRICK

it, and that somehow matched the thick socks on

PROLOGUE In the long ago, the worlds of gods and men and Fey coexisted.

Rosalind Harper's gardening secrets.

November afternoon in her

the people. The bees that buzz, the birds that fly, all bound together.

you repay kindness with kindness, then there's more of it.

No, he didn't want to tame her any more than he wanted to tame the land. But by God, it was time for acceptance, on both sides.

They remained that

Earth, air, water, fire. We call on them, use them, with respect. It's not our power over them, but the merging of our power with theirs.

Changing it without damaging it. If you cut down a tree, is what you're putting in its place worth the sacrifice?

We're a land that absorbs our invaders, and makes them one of us.

Would it be normal if she slipped some rosemary and crystals under Marco's pillow to ensure he had a peaceful night's sleep? Her normal, she decided, so she'd see to that.

Without rules, chaos.' With chaos, life.

She'd just be more satisfied if my happiness aligned with her point of view.

gathered. And

I wish you all the pleasurable excitement one can have without hurting others and one's own dignity.

One must be both subjectively involved in and objectively detached from life, and that true happiness rests neither in the one sphere nor in the other exclusively, but rather in achieving a harmonios balance - however fragile - between the two.

Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world's great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of those rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs. I am haunted by waters.

In our family, there was no clear line between religion and fly fishing.

When I looked, I knew I might never again see so much of the earth so beautiful, the beautiful being something you know added to something you see, in a whole that is different from the sum of its parts.

Eventually the watcher joined the river, and there was only one of us. I believe it was the river.

In the three minutes it takes the song to play I'm caught in a magic world of harmony and joy, a truly ecstatic joy, where the aching longing to be somewhere else, out of this city, out of this country, out of this body and out of this life, is kept at bay.

Within these strangely specific conditions, everything is perfect. We are perfect.