Best 381 of Woods quotes - MyQuotes
I have so many wonderful people in my life. I've never had any major physical problems or an accident or anything like that. I'm a very, very lucky person, thus far, knock on wood.
A GIANT heart Needs a GIANT life! GIANT arms Can hold a world! Let me lead a GIANT'S life! No little steps, no holding back! A GIANT'S way, a GIANT'S track! Let my mistakes Be GIANT ones! For I can't live in little worlds! I need the space to run my fill I need to jump from hill to hill And if you take my woods from me I'll wander out into the sea And try to find another world So I can live a GIANT'S life!
Ralph Waldo Emerson
"In the woods we return to reason and faith. There I feel that nothing can befall me in life~~no disgrace, no calamity (leaving me my eyes), which nature cannot repair.
Henry David Thoreau
When we walk, we naturally go to the fields and woods: what would become of us, if we walked only in a garden or a mall? Even some sects of philosophers have felt the necessity of importing the woods to themselves, since they did not go to the woods. They planted groves and walks of Plantanes, where they took subdiales ambulationes in porticos open to the air. Of course, it is of no use to direct our steps to the woods, if they do not carry us thither.
A rainy day is the perfect time for a walk in the woods.
Heap on more wood! - the wind is chill; But let it whistle as it will, We'll keep our Christmas merry still.
I walked, floated, lighter—forty miles, my biggest day yet. I'd lifted the burden of guilt and shame off my body. I held my new hard-won wisdom, the gift three months of walking in the wilderness had carried me to: compassion for my younger self—forgiveness for my innocence.
Chi Chi Rodriguez
The best wood in most amateurs' bags is the pencil.
Never follow anyone else's path, unless you're in the woods and you're lost.
Every time I think I am out of the woods, I am back in the fire.
There's a balance and I feel very, very strong and very, very fit at the moment. There's no - touch wood - niggles at the moment, there's nothing that's twinging or nothing that's too painful. Apart from a bit of chafing from the wetsuit!
Being in nature is inspiring. I grew up in rural Pennsylvania and spent countless hours of my youth wandering the woods in awe of the beauty that exists all around us.
Henry David Thoreau
When we walk, we naturally go to the fields and woods: what would become of us, if we walked only in a garden or a mall?
Fairy tales give it to us straight. They tell us something profound and essential - that the woods are real, and dark, and full of wolves. That we will, at times, find ourselves hopelessly lost in them. But these tales also tell us that we are all that we need, that we have all we need - guts, smarts, and maybe a pocketful of breadcrumbs - to find our way home.
We've seen what happened in Libya, what a disaster that's been driven by Hillary Clinton, and the disaster in Syria and almost disaster in Egypt. What a close call that's been. We're not out of the woods yet with Egypt.
Charles De Lint
She hadn't meant to fall asleep, but she was a bit like a cat herself, forever wandering in the woods, chasing after squirrels and rabbits as fast as her skinny legs could take her when the fancy struck, climbing trees like a possum, able to doze in the sun at a moment's notice. And sometimes with no notice at all. (This text is originally from A Circle of Cats, which was revised and re-adapted by the author for The Cats of Tanglewood Forest)
I was in a copse of pine trees, and the pine was overpowering my scent. The pheromones of the big cat mingled with the pine and I spun around. I was smelling and looking for the flash of white, but I couldn’t see it. I grew angry and I pawed at the earth. The aroma of the soil cleansed my nose as I leaned down and sniffed deeply. I slowly closed and opened my eyes. As I looked ahead I saw something. There, further on, I had another glimpse of the large white cat. She was stopped and her hindquarters were in the air. I stared, trying to figure out what she was doing. Her forepaws and head were on the ground, but her hind was wiggling. She was next to a tree, marking it, so I slowly paced in a zigzag pattern as I walked close to her. I was being cautious because poachers had been known to employ shifters to entice real animals in the wild. She turned her head and growled at me. I took it as an invite to come closer. I ran up to her and started circling. She was an albino panther as I thought. I paced closer, breathing deep. I was in the middle of Ohio, outside of a lost cougar and a few bobcats there were no big cats here, at least not counting lycanthropes, and this creature didn’t smell like one of those. Her rump almost wagged in anticipation, and I felt my tiger body respond. I circled her, taking a swipe in her direction to see if she was going to respond negatively to me. The pink eyes followed me and she growled. I walked up to her, sniffed her face and neckline. I didn’t smell any other male on her, and I walked to her raised rump. Burying my nose in her groin I smelled deeper, and she shifted her body. I felt it before I could see it. She was shifting, changing from albino panther to human. I sat on my hindquarters as I watched. Her white fur seemed to melt from her, sliding upwards, starting with her back legs. The flesh and fur on her feet slid forward, leaving human feet and calves. It was fully fleshed, unlike some lycanthrope changes when they’re younger. The calves of her legs appeared, and slowly slid up. The panther flesh was sliding forward, slowly and methodically. Across her ass and groin, now lower back and stomach. The pheromones I smelled earlier were coming from her, the human form. I stood and started pacing behind her, and her panther head shook in a very human gesture. I stopped, fighting the desire to lean forward and lick her wetness with my large tongue. The flesh was sliding forward and as her teats turned into breasts, I growled in need. Next were her shoulders and arms, then her head and hands. As the transformation ended, there was a pile of fur and flesh lying in front of her. Her human form was beautiful; a full figured woman with long white hair, that was perfectly natural. She looked to be in her early forties, but didn’t have a line on her face that she didn’t want. In the corners of her eyes were small, but beautiful, crow’s feet, laugh lines surrounded her mouth. She laid out with her former form under her, laying on it, propped up by her elbows. She smiled with the confidence of someone who was used to being in charge. Her long hair flowed around her shoulders, framing her body. She reminded me of someone, but I couldn’t figure out who.
The wanting was a wilderness and I had to find my own way out of the woods.
When we lose these woods, we lose our soul. Not simply as individuals, but as a people.
Now Autumn's fire burns slowly along the woods and day by day the dead leaves fall and melt.
It's absolutely fine when Wile E. Coyote walks in with a band-aid on his head, after a 3,000-pound rock is dropped on him. That is what Ed Wood meant by the suspension of disbelief.
Henry David Thoreau
I am alarmed when it happens that I have walked a mile into the woods bodily, without getting there in spirit.
The thorns thinned out and the trees grew taller and straighter, their branches not beginning until a few feet over our heads. The white, peeled bark of the birches looked buttery in the long, slanting afternoon light, and their leaves were a delicate gold.
Tiger Woods makes me a better athlete.
I would host a show where I take famous people out into the woods every week to find Bigfoot. I would do that. And you know what? We would find him in like a week.
Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile, Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court?
But like Elle Woods, I do not like to be underestimated.
To heal mine aching moods, Give me God's virgin woods.
There are few places in England where you can get so much wildness and desolation of sea and sandhills, wood, green marsh and grey saltings as at Wells in Norfolk.
Henry David Thoreau
What is sour in the house a bracing walk in the woods makes sweet.
It was far in the sameness of the wood; I was running with joy on the Demon's trail, Though I knew what I hunted was no true god.
The people you save won't celebrate you. They'll gather the wood and cheer while you burn.
I met Elijah Wood once, I met Peter Jackson, I met Orlando Bloom, and they're all really cool.
How I got into this? Well― Like Frost, you know, I saw two roads diverging in a wood. So I bushwhacked a path in some other direction. I mean―who wants to follow a crowd through the forest?
Around in silent grandeur stood The stately children of the wood; Maple and elm and towering pine Mantled in folds of dark woodbine.
I came from nothing out in the woods near Tallahassee, Florida. My mom was a single mom raising five of us. It wasn't easy but she found a way to raise us to adulthood. We made it somehow.
I wish to learn silence from the dark woods, the unused middle rooms, from the girls in their white dresses,
George Washington Carver
All flowers talk to me and so do hundreds of little living things in the woods. I learn what I know by watching and loving everything.
I loved Thirteen and I loved Pretty Persuasion, and was always just so blown away by her [Rachel Evan Wood]. It was nice, and sadly, it is so rare.
He'd grown unused to woods like this. He'd become accustomed to the Northwest, evergreen and shaded dark. Here he was surrounded by soft leaves, not needles; leaves that carried their deaths secretly inside them, that already heard the whispers of Autumn. Roots and branches that knew things.
I think [Phil Wood] didn't suffer fools gladly, but he loved supporting young people that loved the music.
In what bold relief stand out the lives of all walkers of the snow! The snow is a great tell-tale, and blabs as effectually as it obliterates. I go into the woods, and know all that has happened. I cross the fields, and if only a mouse has visited his neighbor, the fact is chronicled.
Gabriel Garcia Marquez
Ultimately, literature is nothing but carpentry. With both you are working with reality, a material just as hard as wood.
The heavens and the earth, the woods and the wayside, teem with instruction and knowledge to the curious and thoughtful.
When you are on the set, you have different departments - you got camera, sound, props, hair, makeup, catering, executives. Imagine each one of those are spokes on the wagon wheel. All the spokes come into a hub: the hub is the director. The wood the spokes go into are distribution and promotion; the steel wheel around the hub is the film. None of these have anything in common with each other.
Come to the woods, for here is rest. There is no repose like that of the green deep woods.
He threw his burning cigarette onto our clean living room floor and ground it into the wood with his boot. We were about to become cigarettes.
Henry David Thoreau
Of what use were it, pray, to get a little wood to burn, to warm your body this cold weather, if there were not a divine fire kindled at the same time to warm your spirit?
Henry David Thoreau
Thus was my first year's life in the woods completed; and the second year was similar to it. I finally left Walden September 6th,1847.
I'm here because all fairy tales take place in the woods, King Cole, even those that don't.