Quotes About Tree

It's as absurd to expect a life to have meaning, in contrast to the vastness of the Universe, as it is absurd to take off your shoe and hang it from a tree, but both are wonderful in their way—for I assure you, if you could see that tree, you'd think it wonderful, you'd approve, you'd think that in a wacko way something had been done, something worth doing.

A tree never grows overnight and a bird never straight soars to height. Progress is a steadfast process of change from one state to another. Don't Jump the process & let get growth compromised, evolve seamlessly and get MickeyMized.

On top of the Tree of Life - in the Hall of the Palace - someone had found somebody for whom he had been searching for a long, long time. And the tears of joy which were shed became the fruit of the Tree of Life, the grapes whose juice is distilled by the flute of the blue god.

I manage a toast to the Christmas tree and one to the sweet absurdity in the miracle of the verb to be. Lucky you, lucky me.

The wind was against them now, and Piglet's ears streamed behind him like banners as he fought his way along, and it seemed hours before he got them into the shelter of the Hundred Acre Wood and they stood up straight again, to listen, a little nervously, to the roaring of the gale among the treetops. 'Supposing a tree fell down, Pooh, when we were underneath it?' 'Supposing it didn't,' said Pooh after careful thought.

The tall tree above him formed a burnished metallic lace against the blurry evening sky.

One Christmas my father kept our tree up till March. He hated to see it go. I loved that.

he lay on a chaise longue under the cedar tree with lemonade constantly at his elbow. In those

First you must find... another shrubbery! Then, when you have found the shrubbery, you must place it here, beside this shrubbery, only slightly higher so you get a two layer effect with a little path running down the middle. ("A path! A path!") Then, you must cut down the mightiest tree in the forrest... with... a herring!

We are a generation that settles the land, and without the steel helmet and the cannon's fire we will not be able to plant a tree and build a home.

But the point about spiritual fruit is that, however healthy the tree, it has to be looked after.

Do you scent the same things I do?" Ransom made a face when she described what she'd picked up from the passing vamp. "Yeah, except I don't say shit like 'cinnamon spice with a hint of burnt oak.' I say 'dude smells like an electrified tree with a side of doughnut topping.

Pa Larkspur?" She smiled. "Don't be so chauvinistic. He's the best cook in the county. His baskets bring in more money than any others at the picnic auctions." "Jesus. Baskets? Picnic? Just how country is the Nest?" "Very." His horrified expression made her laugh. "Clay, you live in a tree. I don't think you should throw stones.

Mercy kicked out a leg and spun, hitting her target--her favorite tree. She called it Riley, having been driven to kick it after their first real meeting.

I was going through the botanical theory book, and while I was reading I remembered something Blue Horse said to me back before Gilbert was born. He said wisdom is not a path, it is a tree.

Blue Horse said to me... wisdom is not a path, it is a tree.

I have been sad almost a whole year, thinking that taking that test was somehow the end of my learning and that not having that as a possibility in my future left a big empty spot in my life that the children and the ranch didn't fill. But my life is not like that, it is a tree, and I can stay in one place and spread out in all directions, and I can do more learning shading this brood of mine than if I was all alone.

He has his good side and his bad side. Very dark indeed is his majesty when he wants to be. When he was young, he made a choice, like a tree does when it decides to grow one way or the other. He grew large and green until he shadowed over the whole forest, but most of his branches are twisted.

The tree of life is not simply a thing of the past. It's a promise for our future.

The shape of power is always the same; it is the shape of a tree. Root to tip, central trunk branching and re-branching, spreading wider in ever-thinner, searching fingers. The shape of power is the outline of a living thing straining outward, sending its fine tendrils a little further, and a little further yet.

She sees it all in that instant, the shape of the tree of power. Root to tip, branching and re-branching. Of course, the old tree still stands. There is only one way, and that is to blast it entirely zo pieces.

patches of light opening up and closing again, the places where leaf over leaf produces a rich saturation of colour, or where the sunshine creates translucency. Like the layered frills of a petticoat or the delicate fanned ceiling of Christ Church Cathedral, so much of what we make in art is an attempt to recreate the simple beauty of a tree.

Real, solid growth and education are slow. Look at a tree. We don't put a seed in the ground and then stick our fingers in the earth and yank up an oak. Everything has its time and is nourished and fed with the rhythms of the sun and moon, the seasons. We are no different, no more special, no less important. We belong on the earth. We grow in the same way as a rock, a snail, a porpoise, or a blade of grass. America has forgotten this.

I'd follow my father from book to book, gathering citations, listen as he named--like a field guide to Virginia-- each flower and tree and bird as if to prove a man's pursuit of knowledge is greater than his shortcomings, the limits of his vision.