Quotes About Harmony

We all travel the Milky Way together, trees and men. . . . In every walk with nature one receives far more than he seeks. The clearest way into the universe is through a forest wilderness.

Be grateful for anything that still cuts. Dissonance is a beauty that familiarity hasn't destroyed yet.

Music is a system of proportions in the service of a spiritual impulse.

CONTROL KILLS CONNECTION HEALS

A tree is a wondrous thing that shelters, feeds, and protects all living things. It even offers shade to the axmen who destroy it.

The polite applause of aspens.

An old man, I want only peace. The things of this world mean nothing. I know no good way to live and I can't stop getting lost in my thoughts, my ancient forests. The wind that waves the pines loosens my belt. The mountain moon lights me as I play my lute.

I wouldn't need to be so very different for sun to seem to be about sun, for green to be about green, for joy and boredom and anguish and terror and death to all be themselves, beyond the need for any killing clarity, and then this-- this , the growing rings of light and water and stone--would take up all of me, and be all the words I need.

Now they need only learn what life wants from humans. It's a big question, to be sure. Too big for people alone. But people aren't alone, and they never have been.

A tree is a wondrous thing that shelters, feeds, and protects all living things. It even offers shade to the axmen who destroy it. And with those words, she has her book's end.

There's joy in a minor key, a deep pleasure to be had from hearing the darkest tune and discovering you're equal to it.

His hand goes out, gesturing toward the conifers. It amazes me how much they say, when you let them. They're not that hard to hear. The (other) man chuckles. We've been trying to tell you that since 1492.

Where the deer bound, where the trout rise, where your horse stops to slather a drink from icy water while the sun is warm on the back of your neck, where every breath you draw is exhilaration — that is where the Aspens grow. . . .

that human wisdom counts less than the shimmer of beeches in a

Someday we'll learn again how to train on this living place, and holding still will be like flying.

Now they need only learn what life wants from humans.

If you would learn the secrets of Nature, you must practice more humanity ...

There are no individuals. There aren't even separate species. Everything in the forest is the forest.

Who does the tree-hugger really hug, when he hugs a tree?

Creation is much in need of ordering.

Everything in the forest is the forest. Competition is not separable from endless flavors of cooperation.

The tree is saying things, in words before words. It says: Sun and water are questions endlessly worth answering. It says: A good answer must be reinvented many times, from scratch.

Trees used to talk to people all the time. Sane people used to hear them." The only question is whether they'll talk again, before the end.

Creatures, all of whome heard humans and knew them as just a part of the wider network of sounds. Living things of every gauge, for whom the roadside bar was just another mound in the continuous test of the landscape, just another swarming node in the biome to exploit.