Quotes About Landscape

You, who have just crossed the Roof of the World, will not want to hear an account of the little hills that I saw — low, colorless hills. But to me they were living and the turf that covered them was a skin, under which their muscles rippled, and I felt that those hills had called with incalculable force to men in the past, and that men had loved them. Now they sleep — perhaps for ever. They commune with humanity in dreams.

He seemed a part of the mute melancholy landscape, an incarnation of its frozen woe, with all that was warm and sentient in him fast bound below the surface.

The landscape conveys an impression of absolute permanence. It is not hostile. It is simply there - untouched, silent and complete. It is very lonely, yet the absence of all human traces gives you the feeling you understand this land and can take your place in it.

Anything can have happened in Oklahoma. Practically everything has.

All I could see from where I stoodWas three long mountains and a wood.

I would not sacrifice a single living mesquite tree for any book ever written. One square mile of living desert is worth a hundred 'great books' - and one brave deed is worth a thousand.

I like the name. Tukuhnikivats—in the language of the Utes "where the sun lingers.

the lids, have taken on a coral-pink, the color of the dunes.

Simply breathing, in a place like this, arouses the appetite.

Let the bard from Smyrna catalogue Harma, the ledges and caves of Thaca, the milk-fed damsels of Achaia, pigeon-flocked Thisbe or the woods of Onchestus, I sing of Oak, Walnut, Chesnut, Maple and Elm Streets.

His speeches left the impression of an army of pompous phrases moving over the landscape in search of an idea.

Arizona looks like a battle on Mars.

The cedars of Lebanon.

There'll always be an EnglandWhile there's a country lane,Wherever there's a cottage smallBeside a field of grain.

Dust is just a country accent.

Landscape photography is the supreme test of the photographer - and often the supreme disappointment.

Yosemite Valley, to me, is always a sunrise, a glitter of green and golden wonder in a vast edifice of stone and space.

Werner Pfennig grows up three hundred miles northeast of Paris in a place called Zollverein: a four-thousand-acre coalmining complex outside Essen, Germany. It's steel country, anthracite country, a place full of holes. Smokestacks fume and locomotives trundle back and forth on elevated conduits and leafless trees stand atop slag heaps like skeleton hands shoved up from the underworld.

the doctor recognizes himself in the bear's awareness, a nameless silhouette in the landscape, cleansed of every accusation;

All the things he did not see... (a black bear, two hawks, horsemen, a trio of summer cabins far below him...)

She was learning that in her life everything--health, happiness, even love--was subject to the landscape; the weathers of the world were inseparable from the weathers of her soul.

Everywhere the land was covered by thick and tangled forests and there were few tilled fields.

A level pathway led through woods, running between a steep hill and a great bog.

What Abbott represented was completely at odds with everything I would enjoy writing about: blue telephone boxes, beaches and fortifications, seagulls, miniature steak and kidney puddings, ginger-haired taxi drivers.