Quotes About Landscape

Anyplace you walked, massive lengths of Spanish moss draped from overhead branches like an endless cavern of ZZ Top beards.

Orlando. Tourism on steroids. Florida's mutant chromosome with mouse ears. One of the newer attractions is an air-conditioned dome over a sprawling, man-made replica of the state's natural landscape. They bulldozed nature to build it.

beg them to compare the Oostvaardersplassen not with their dreamtime Europe of the classical age, but with a long-vanished continent where large mammals, rather than agricultural practices, shaped landscapes.

The mud is cold when you're in the north of Scotland!

The old process of social assimilation used to be mainly about English new money - generated in London, the mucky, brassy North or the colonies - buying those houses and restoring them, and doing the three-generation thing, mouldering into the landscape, and the 'community,' identifying with the place in a familiar way.

The ancient boundary of Italy on the north was not the Alps but the Apennines.

I love coming back around Northern California.

The thing I love about Norwegian cities is that you often have nature right at your doorstep - you don't need to go that far. That makes it a lot easier to just get out.

The Little Friend is a long book. It's also completely different from my first novel: different landscape, different characters, different use of language and diction, different approach to story.

I didn't grow up on any sort of border; more in the middle of nowhere, in rural eastern North Carolina.

The live oak can grow sturdily on the hottest hills of central California, contrasting dark green against the golden grass.

The difference between architecture and engineering comes in only with the creation of schools. It's a bureaucratic distinction. The result of both disciplines is the construction of objects in a landscape.

They all looked very much like the residents of any small valley to which you've never been.

Armed with the arms of summer you come into my room come into my mind and untie the river of language look at yourself in these hurried words Bit by bit the day burns out over the erasing landscape your shadow is a land of birds the sun scatters with a wave from "THE ARMS OF SUMMER

América Latina: ruínas, natureza e umas figuras imprecisas - os criados e o gerente do hotel.

We order our lives with barely held stories. As if we have been lost in a confusing landscape, gathering what was invisible and unspoken, sewing it all together in order to survive, incomplete, ignored like the sea pea on those mined beaches during the war.

the reader will find here that works of literature, like War and Peace, are intercut with episodes from daily life (childhood, marriage, religious life, responses to the landscape, food and drinking habits, attitudes to death) where the outlines of this national consciousness may be discerned. These are the episodes where we may find, in life, the unseen threads of a common Russian sensibility, such as Tolstoy had imagined in his celebrated dancing scene.

Ce zici, gradinarule, vine ploaia? Omul arata vag spre apus. - O tin prizoniera dealurile, sahib.

The dust the party raised was quickly dispersed and lost in the immensity of that landscape and there was no dust other for the pale sutler who pursued them drives unseen and his lean horse and his lean cart leave no track upon such ground or any ground. By a thousand fires in the iron blue dusk he keeps his commissary and he's a wry and grinning tradesman good to follow every campaign or hound men from their holds in just those whited regions where they've gone to hide from God.

She patted his hand. Gnarled, ropescarred, speckled from the sun and the years of it. The ropy veins that bound them to his heart. There was map enough for men to read. There God's plenty of signs and wonders to make a landscape. To make a world.

IN FOUR DAYS' riding he crossed the Pecos at Iraan Texas and rode up out of the river breaks where the pumpjacks in the Yates Field ranged against the skyline rose and dipped like mechanical birds. Like great primitive birds welded up out of iron by hearsay in a land perhaps where such birds once had been.

The mountain road brick-red of dust laced with lizard tracks, coming up through the peach orchard, hot, windless, cloistral in a silence of no birds save one vulture hung in the smokeblue void of the sunless mountainside, rocking on the high updrafts, and the road turning and gated with bullbriers waxed and green, and the green cadaver grin sealed in the murky waters of the peach pit, slimegreen skull with newts coiled in the eyesockets and a wig of moss.

That day there was no sun only a paleness in the haze and the country was white with frost and the shrubs were like polar isomers of their own shapes. Wild rams ghosted away up those rocky draws and the wind swirled down cold and gray from the snowy reeks above them, a smoking region of wild vapors blowing down through the gap as if the world up there were all afire.

y en la democracia óptica de tales paisajes toda preferencia se vuelve caprichosa y hombre y roca terminan por asumir parentescos insospechados.