Best 256 of Forest quotes - MyQuotes
We are of the forest and of magi, and we have always been.
He liked the grand size of things in the woods, the feeling of being lost and far away, and the sense he had that with so many trees as wardens, no danger could find him.
micel walcan wolde we do from that daeg micel walcan in the great holt the brunnesweald but though we walced for wices months years though this holt becum ham to me for so long still we did not see efen a small part of it so great was this deop eald wud. so great was it that many things dwelt there what was not cnawan to man but only in tales and in dreams. wihts for sure the boar the wulf the fox efen the bera it was saed by sum made this holt their ham. col beorners and out laws was in here as they was in all wuds but deop deoper efen than this was the eald wihts what was in angland before men here i is meanan the aelfs and the dweorgs and ents who is of the holt who is the treows them selfs. my grandfather he telt me he had seen an aelf at dusc one daeg he seen it flittan betweon stoccs of treows thynne it was and grene and its eages was great and blaec and had no loc of man in them. well he was blithe to lif after that for oft it is saed that to see an aelf is to die for they sceots their aelf straels at thu and aelfscot is a slow death
When standing in the middle of the marvelous mountains and deep forests, in the earthy smell of all beginnings and endings, I often find myself asking what I have if all my possessions were taken away. Without money, car, house; or power and fame, if there are any, who am I? In that very moment, being away from the external voices and left alone in nature, I find my answer.
When you live on the edge of a cursed forest, you do a lot of staring into the dark.
Gold is a luxury. Trees are necessities. Man can live and thrive without gold, but we cannot survive without trees.
Why do some trees stay green while others change their color?” “Certain trees need to show off, dear. I’m sure that my big brother could explain why it happens. Dahlaine loves to explain things, and he can be very tedious about it. I prefer simpler answers. The trees are sad because summer’s almost over.
A small garden is worth more to its owner than an entire forest.
Lailah Gifty Akita
Nature will always be nature.
I prefer feeling insignificant," said Jess. "I don't believe that." "I didn't say worthless, I said insignificant, as in the grand scheme of things." "But why?" "Because humans have such a complex. We're so self-involved. You have to get out to a place like this to remember how small humanity really is." And Jess was right. Numbers didn't matter here. Money didn't count, and all the words and glances, the quick exchanges that built or tore down reputations had no meaning in this place. The air was moist. Fallen leaves, spreading branches, and crisscrossing roots wicked water, so that the trees seemed to drink the misty air. Jess said, "All your worries fade away, because..." Emily finished her thought. "The trees put everything in perspective.
Silloin susi, jonka kanssa Aalo oli juossut, yhtäkkiä muutti muotoansa. Metsän halki kulki elävä ja väkevä henkäys, niinkuin jättikeuhkot olisivat henkäisseet, ja koko korpi vavahti näkymättäin askelten astunnasta, ja suuret siivet, joitten leveyttä ei kenkään kuolevainen vielä ole mitannut, kätkivät korven salatumpaan pimentoon kuin on aarnikuusien katve. Sillä tämä susi oli Diabolus sylvarum elikkä Metsän Henki, vaikka hän nyt vasta oikian hahmonsa edestoi.
Witches escape to the forest to listen to the whispers of nature itself...
In the evenings, Sam performs exercises to prepare his body for love-making with Franz. He practices kissing (something he’d once hated) by smooching deer lips, antelope ears, frog anuses, and the great, whiskered muzzles of sleeping bison. He improves his petting skills by necking with juniper bushes and pine tree trunks with such passion that the bark snaps and sap runs, or with such tenderness that the whole forest goes silent and swallows nest in his hair.
:Paintings are easy to see," he said after a moment. "Open, presented flat to the eye. Words are not easy. Words have to be discovered, deep in their pages, deciphered, translated, read. Words are symbols to be encoded, their letters trees in a forest, enmeshed, their tangled meanings never finally picked apart.
...as if Hollywood were the name of the enchanted forest where you loose yourself and find yourself, again; the wood that changes you; the wood where you go mad; the wood where the shadows life longer than you do.
Twenty minutes into our walk away from the wall put us deep in a forest of fir, pine, cottonwood, and aspen trees. The lush forest floor was alive and danced with shadows cast from an endless parade of swaying trees. As we approached early evening it was cool and peaceful. The sound of the trees moving in the wind high above seemed like a friendly traveling companion, calling us farther and farther into the depths of the forest.
a single-file army of ants biting a mammoth tree into uniform grains and hauling it down to the dark for their ravenous queen. and, in reply, a choir of seedlings arching their necks out of rotted tree stumps, sucking life out of death. this forest eats itself and lives forever.
I love to escape to wild places – forests, mountains rivers or the sea. If that’s not possible, I flee into books; vicarious travel is rejuvenating
Bear, I need your eyes. I need your nose. I need your night-wits and forest-wisdom.
Suprema arta de a trai consta in combinarea celor mai delicate placeri cu prezenta constanta a pericoulului.
Ballads of the Black eyes (english - español) The place where more “I was never born”? Summer evenings!“ Destroying shadows of cypresses and almost always with closed eyes And a tomb of fireflies in each hand…. So transparent that God looks. The place where more "I was never born”? A human being. DW
And into the forest I go, to lose my mind and find my soul
Donna Lynn Hope
I do not find myself beguiled, let alone enchanted by mortal man or woman with their pretense, show or adornments, yet when I’m alone in the pine-scented cloak of forested mountains, I’m both. It was nearing sunset in the treasure state with not another soul in sight and despite my own plainness and insignificance, I never felt more grounded or at peace; it’s a tranquility only the curvaceous, imposing landscape of the frontier can provide and I was free of the trepidation within my thoughts as I gratefully and prayerfully walked with God. All was well within me and around me for that blissful yet brief moment in time.
Death is but a dream and life is merely the daydream of death.
The limbs of a stand of birch tree hold up the forest's form like women's bones. This grove has a magnetic pull, beckoning toward a carpet of blue-green mosses where I long to lie on my back and sing into the leaves. But it is a place where bodies were stacked, and I don't want to make friends with trees that once hid the dead.
A forest full of trees is as important and valuable as a mine full of gold.
Mehmet Murat Ildan
An autumn forest is such a place that once entered you never look for the exit!
The way ran zigzag through a forest of pine which the bitter wind, still that morning, had turned to ice; every bough was adorned with lines of stalactite which shivered and glittered in the morning sun; every needle had a brilliant, vitreous case and when she flicked her whip at a wayside shrub she brought down a tinkling shower of ice-leaves, each the veined impression of its crisp, green counterpart.
The woods that I loved as a child are entirely gone. The woods that I loved as a young adult are gone. The woods that most recently I walked in are not gone, but they’re full of bicycle trails. And this is happening to the world, and I think it is very very dangerous for our future generations, those of us who believe that the world is not only necessary to us in its pristine state, but it is in itself an act of some kind of spiritual thing. I said once, and I think this is true, the world did not have to be beautiful to work. But it is. What does that mean? [from 'A Thousand Mornings' With Poet Mary Oliver for NPR Books]
Carelessness was once something to be owned. They wore it around their necks as they joined the springtime breeze while ducking in and out of the forest believing their fairy tale.
If you love a tree you will be more beautiful than before!
The burly woodsman who attaks the diminutive pine of the east must experience remorse, as would a strong man who made war upon a boy, but [the Redwood] is something to compel his respect; he must feel that in grappling with these monsters he is doing the work of a Hercules.
Trees surrounded them from all sides, casting long inky shadows that would, at another time, have been scary. But there was no point in being scared of what might be lurking in the shadows when the biggest bad, of all big bads, was gazing at her intently.
Thing is," Grial said in a conspiratorial voice, "let me tell you a little secret, girlie. That road- those roads, all roads and paths in fact- they never end. You might think they do. You might think they just narrow and fade and disappear in the hoary depths of the forest? Not so, not at all! They merely go into hiding, and you just have to search a bit harder to see them.
This place was as dark and carried the same scent of pine trees that was common to the forest. She could hear the wind lightly swaying the branches, but there were no sounds out of the ordinary. Everything seemed the same. “What am I missing?” Ursula asked curiously, though she wondered whether Aleana had stopped just to see what she’d say or do. Aleana giggled. “So the charm really does hide it from human sight.” She gave the air a knock, and strangely there was a sound, just like she was knocking on wood.
These woods are where silence has come to lick its wounds.
It's a Christmas miracle. I had no tree. Now I have a forest.
The smells of the forest- the damp dark of the soil, the bleeding sap of the trees, the lemony cedar smell- all vanish in the company of the Sicilian food: the pungent garlic in Zio Mario's salami, the vinegar pickling the vegetables, olives bobbing in brine, roasted peppers, the ubiquitous, sunshine-colored olive oil. It's a kind of colonization. The forest is one of ours now.
Mehmet Murat Ildan
You can walk in a dream while you are awake: Just walk in the misty morning of a forest!
Nothing can match the joy of a forest in the morning.
I ‘am shaggy as rivers, forests and mountains My eyes see the universe natural and super My mind is of many cuts Non-identical I have fought demons Half-horse, half alligator I ‘am victorious, I bled
Ghillie ni mavazi yaliyotumiwa na makomandoo wa Tume ya Dunia ya Kudhibiti Madawa ya Kulevya (Frederik Mogens, Radia Hosni, Daniel Yehuda na John Murphy) kama mbinu ya kujificha kwa kujifananisha na rangi au maumbo ya mazingira ya Msitu wa Benson Bennett, kama afanyavyo kinyonga. Hata hivyo, walivyoingia katika jumba la utawala katika maabara za Kolonia Santita ndani ya Msitu wa Benson Bennett katika mji wa Salina Cruz, Vijana wa Tume walivua suti zao za ghillie; kusudi iwe rahisi kwao kupambana na jeshi binafsi la Kolonia Santita, liitwalo 'autodefensa'.
Their life is mysterious, it is like a forest; from far off it seems a unity, it can be comprehended, described, but closer it begins to separate, to break into light and shadow, the density blinds one. Within there is no form, only prodigious detail that reaches everywhere: exotic sounds, spills of sunlight, foliage, fallen trees, small beasts that flee at the sound of a twig-snap, insects, silence, flowers. And all of this, dependent, closely woven, all of it is deceiving. There are really two kinds of life. There is, as Viri says, the one people believe you are living, and there is the other. It is this other which causes the trouble, this other we long to see.
The canopy of trees overhead is so thick that only bits and pieces of blue sky can be seen overhead. Narrow rays of sunshine slice their way between the tree branches; slanted silver swords lighting my way.
The world was incomprehensibly intricate, and yet this forest made a simple sense in her heart that she felt nowhere else.
Khang Kijarro Nguyen
Lying on a soft bed of moss viewing the cobalt blue sky painted with thick impastoed layers of clouds framed sumptuously with swaying trees and dancing leaves is the best way to view nature’s museum.
Il traversa le sentier qui serpentait entre les arbres s'aidant de sa lampe torche. Le bruit des insectes nocturnes résonnait dans ses oreilles, on aurait dit que la forêt vivait, respirait, que les arbres menaçaient de se retirer de la terre et de s'abattre sur cet inconnu qui souillait leur temple sacré.
Within every little dream seed is the potential viability of sprouting to becoming a great forest.
Animals had returned to what was left of the forest...clusters of orange butterflies exploded off the blackish purple piles of bear sign and winked and fluttered magically like leaves without trees. More bears than people traveled the muddy road, leaving tracks straight up and down the middle of it...
A small grove of linden trees grew on the far side of the lake, below the palace. Dortchen made her way there carefully, not wanting to be seen so close to the King's residence. The trees were in full blossom, bees reeling drunkenly from the pale-yellow flowers that hung down in clusters below the heart-shaped leaves. Dortchen harvested what she could reach, breathing the sweet scent deeply, then picked handfuls of the wild roses that grew in a tangled hedge along the path. She would crystallise the petals with sugar when she got home, or make rose water to sell in her father's shop. She plucked some dandelions she found growing wild in a clearing, and then some meadowsweet, and at last reached the ancient old oak tree she knew from her last foray into the royal park. Here she found handfuls of the sparse grey moss, and she hid it deep within her basket, beneath the flowers and herbs and leaves.