Quotes About Prairie

There was only the enormous, empty prairie, with grasses blowing in waves of light and shadow across it, and the great blue sky above it, and birds flying up from it and singing with joy because the sun was rising. And on the whole enormous prairie there was no sign that any other human being had ever been there.

The vast prairie was dark and still. Only the wind moved stealthily through the grass, and the large, low stars hung glittering from the great sky.

They did not gather thickly any more on Silver Lake. Only a few very tired flocks settled late after sunset in the sloughs and rose to the sky again before the sun rose. Wild birds did not like the town full of people, and neither did Laura. She thought, "I would rather be out on the prairie with the grass and the birds and Pa's fiddle. Yes, even with wolves! I would rather be anywhere than in this muddy, cluttered, noisy town, crowded by strange people." And she said

Kansas City Sunday, August 22, 1915 The country is flat and I can see as far as my eyes will let me.

Cold purple shadows rose in the east, crept slowly across the prairie, then rose in heights on heights of darkness from which the stars swung low and bright.

There's no place you can go on the prairie that you don't hear the white noise of the wind, steady and rough as surf curling along a non-existant shore.

There were five children. In the late thirties my father built a house for us, something not too dissimilar to Miess Tugendhat house. It was wonderful to live in but strange to see on the Texas prairie. On Sundays people used to park their cars out on the street and stare. We had a routine, the family, on Sundays. We used to get up from Sunday dinner, if enough cars had parked, and run out in front of the house in a sort of chorus line, doing high kicks.

And farther still, in the vast prairies mythologized in the American mind, a figure stood shadowed in the dark, biding his time, a scarecrow awaiting harvest.

and then he was running. Running hard like the settlers on the prairie racing to pound their stake into the hard, fertile ground of the heartland, securing their place and their children's places, the generations sprinting up under the blue sky.

It was always a fantasy of mine growing up - my favorite program was always 'Little House on the Prairie' - so I always wanted to wear those looks. When I was a child, I wouldn't let my mom put me in anything but calico dresses and now... whaddaya know, every day I'm in a calico dress, basically, so it's kind of funny.

The legendary tumbleweed is really a nurse crop that protects the growth of prairie grasses under its shade, and then it sacrifices itself and blows away.

Metrics are not a device for restraining the mad, any more than 'open form' or free verse is a prairie where a man can do all kinds of manly things in a state of wholesome unrestrictedness.

Radio was my lifeline as a kid growing up in Winnipeg in the 1950s. It connected me with the wider world outside our little prairie city.

When you go back and look at American history, it's not terribly different from Canadian history. If you weren't self-reliant on the prairie, you wouldn't survive.

Now they emerged upon a great prairie, an expanse of rumpled short-grass plains with occasional clumps of trees dimly seen in the distance, like tiny islands in a sea. This was the western border of a scattered belt of forest land, about forty miles in width, which stretched across the country from north to south, from the Arkansas to the Red River. This oddly fashioned landscape was called the Cross Timbers.

Come on, can you imagine the Lone Ranger buying Silver at an auction? No, the Lone Ranger found Silver on the prairie. They found each other, and they hit it off. Same for Red Ryder. Only that ass Hopalong Cassidy would buy a new horse every year.

But I need to remember that the grief is the settlers' as well. They too will never walk in a tallgrass prairie where sunflowers dance with goldfinches. Their children have also lost the chance to sing at the Maple Dance. They can't drink the water either.

Can settlers be trusted to follow Nanabozho, to walk so that "each step is a greeting to Mother Earth"? Grief and fear still sit in the shadows, behind the glimmer of hope. Together they try to hold my heart closed. But I need to remember that the grief is the settlers' as well. They too will never walk in a tallgrass prairie where sunflowers dance with goldfinches. Their children have also lost the chance to sing at the Maple Dance. They can't drink the water either.

There was nothing but prairie and sky, the sun by day and the stars by night, and the cattle moving westward. If I live to be a thousand years old I shall not forget the wonder and the beauty of those big longhorns, the sun glinting on their horns; most of them six or seven feet from tip to tip.

Mason had once driven that road all the way to Liberal, Kansas. Eight hours of seamless prairie, thinking about the pioneers who had dared to cross that land 150 years ago. There must have been moments when they looked in every direction, finding nothing to reveal where they were, where they'd been, or where they were going.

Last night as I lay on the prairie,And looked at the stars in the sky,I wondered if ever a cowboyWould drift to that sweet bye-and-bye.

Oh, bury me out on the prairie,Where the coyotes may howl o'er my grave.

Oh bury me not on the lone prairieWhere the wild coyotes will howl o'er me.

For my 9th birthday, my only wish was to eat like a farmer boy. I had devoured 'The Little House on the Prairie' book series and wanted to be like Almanzo Wilder, the protagonist of 'Farmer Boy,' one of the later installments in the 'Little House' series.