Best 6303 quotes in «nature quotes» category

The only way a society of diverse people can survive without tearing itself apart over differences in nature is by accepting that ALL people are different, and that no single one of us is more or less deserving of decent treatment, compassion, legal and ethical equality, justice, life, or love, than any other.

The open door is never behind you; the open door is always before you. Quit looking at your past life and mistakes. Look unto Jesus who is the Author and Perfector of our faith. Your open door is not in the opportunity you missed ten years ago, it is not in some stuffs behind you that you can't get back. You can't gain your access by giving attention to your past life. Your past days are behind you and what God has for you is in front of you. Just pay attention.

The Pacific is my home ocean; I knew it first, grew up on its shore, collected marine animals along the coast. I know its moods, its color, its nature. It was very far inland that I caught the first smell of the Pacific. When one has been long at sea, the smell of land reaches far out to greet one. And the same it true when one has been long inland.

The Pacific is my home ocean; I knew it first, grew up on its shore, collected marine animals along the coast. I know its moods, its color, its nature.

The past, the present, the future – The floodgates of time wait for Her footsteps Yet She resides forever – In the shape of a rising dawn, In the sound of a humming bee, In the chirping of a flying bird, In the birth of a newborn, In the blissful serenity of Nature; For Happiness is but a reflection of simplicity.

The pattern glitters with cruelty. The blue beads are colored with fish blood, the reds with powdered heart. The beads collect in borders of mercy. The yellows are dyed with the ocher of silence. There is no telling which twin will fall asleep first, allowing the other's colors to dominate, for how long. The design grows, the overlay deepens. The beaders have no other order at the heart of their being. Do you know that the beads are sewn onto the fabric of the earth with endless strands of human muscle, human sinew, human hair? We are as crucial to this making as other animals. No more and no less important than the deer.

The peasant is the only species of human being who doesn't like the country and never looks at it.

The Peace of Wild Things When despair for the world grows in me and I wake in the night at the least sound in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be, I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds. I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief. I come into the presence of still water. And I feel above me the day-blind stars waiting with their light. For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

The pear trees were bare, their limbs spread open like the viscera of a parasol. Stretching into the darkness beyond, the single houses, double houses, and villas were lined up in cramped, neat rows which ran toward the tip of the peninsula. p94

The people that loves God, do they also have troubles? Yes but the troubles never have them. They can have pain but pain can't have them. Paul was in prison but prison was not in him. Don't let what you have, have you. Have money and time but don't let them have you. Have good name and title but don't let name and title have you but let God get glory out of it.

The place has entered me...it has coloured my life like a stain.

The planet, saved for another day, stokes up its slow-burning gases and toxic dust, gold rift and scarlet gash that take our breath away; a world at its interminable show of holy dying. And we go with it, the old gatherer and hunter. To its gaudy-day, though the contribution is small, adding our handsel of warm clay.

The place of every creature from the forests and swamps that becomes extinct is occupied by something else, some new mutation, adapted to the artificial environment created by people.

The poet dreams of the mountain Sometimes I grow weary of the days, with all their fits and starts. I want to climb some old gray mountains, slowly, taking The rest of my lifetime to do it, resting often, sleeping Under the pines or, above them, on the unclothed rocks. I want to see how many stars are still in the sky That we have smothered for years now, a century at least. I want to look back at everything, forgiving it all, And peaceful, knowing the last thing there is to know. All that urgency! Not what the earth is about! How silent the trees, their poetry being of themselves only. I want to take slow steps, and think appropriate thoughts. In ten thousand years, maybe, a piece of the mountain will fall.

The Poetry of Love We see the world with the eyes of a small child. We visualize the beauty of the world with an unique magic sense,and unfold our deeper feelings and expectations diffusing the seizing negative forces that stretch out their threatening tentacles. We give blow and shape in our dreams. We seek for Love through unfamiliar new people and new experiences. Love is a vivid spirit, a big breath that touches upon each piece of our existence, our each cell… Love affiliates a lot of forms, exists and fits everywhere. Each flight of a small bird, the flutter of an incredible beauty butterfly, the stones wetted by waters of Aquamarine River, the branches of the trees that dally with the blow of wind, all these is the Spirit of Love. When you love in a genuine way, love everything. You are not bothered by the babble of Nature and the strange reactions of people. You hear the sounds of everyday routine with bigger consequence. Overtakes the meanness consequently and with courage. You seek truth in small things. You live the each moment as if it's unique. Love for nature. Love for life. Love for people.

The pouring rain was over in a short while, and, as it usually happens in summer after the storm, the air filled up with the intoxicating freshness of ozone and inebriant fragrance of the evening violets blooming along the road.

The poor young man must work for his bread; he eats; when he has eaten, he has nothing left but reverie. He enters God's theater free; he sees the sky, space, the stars, the flowers, the children, the humanity in which he suffers, the creation in which he shines. He looks at humanity so much that he sees the soul, he looks at creation so much that he sees God. He dreams, he feels that he is great; he dreams some more, and he feels that he is tender. From the egotism of the suffering man, he passes to the compassion of the contemplating man. A wonderful feeling springs up within him, forgetfulness of self, and pity for all. In thinking of the countless enjoyments nature offers, gives, and gives lavishly to open souls and refuses to closed souls, he, a millionaire of intelligence, comes to grieve for the millionaires of money. All hatred leaves his heart as all light enters his mind. And is he unhappy? No. The poverty of a young man is never miserable.

The presence of crisis does not prove the absence of God. I think in time of crisis Christians should rise up and point to the world on something bigger. The crisis is an opportunity for us to proclaim to the children of darkness what we proclaim in the light.

The priceless gifts (life, love, joy, goodness, family, nature) are freely given by the Creator.

The question haunted me, and the real answer came, as answers often do, not in the canyon but at an unlikely time and in an unexpected place, flying over the canyon at thirty thousand feet on my way to be a grandmother. My mind on other things, intending only to glance out, the exquisite smallness and delicacy of the river took me completely by surprise. In the hazy light of early morning, the canyon lay shrouded, the river flecked with glints of silver, reduced to a thin line of memory, blurred by a sudden realization that clouded my vision. The astonishing sense of connection with that river and canyon caught me completely unaware, and in a breath I understood the intense, protective loyalty so many people feel for the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon. It has to do with truth and beauty and love of this earth, the artifacts of a lifetime and the descant of a canyon wren at dawn.

The prospect of death is nature's way of encouraging us to strive for greatness.

The rains and constant drizzle had cleansed and polished the foliage everywhere, lending the greenery a rich, youthful charm. The beads of water on the leaves, gave them an alluring sheen and added to their rejuvenating effect.

The rays which stream through the shutter will be no longer remembered when the shutter is wholly removed.

There are all degrees of proficiency in the use men make of this instructive world where we are boarded and schooled and apprenticed. It is sufficient to our present purpose to indicate three degrees of progress. One class lives to the utility of the symbol, as the majority of men do, regarding health and wealth as the chief good. Another class live about this mark to the beauty of the symbol; as the poet and artist and the sensual school in philosophy. A third class live above the beauty of the symbol to the beauty of the thing signified and these are wise men. The first class have common sense; the second, taste; and the third spiritual perception. I see in society the neophytes of all these classes, the class especially of young men who in their best knowledge of the sign have a misgiving that there is yet an unattained substance and they grope and sigh and aspire long in dissatisfaction, the sand-blind adorers of the symbol meantime chirping and scoffing and trampling them down. I see moreover that the perfect man - one to a millennium - if so many, traverses the whole scale and sees and enjoys the symbol solidly; then also has a clear eye for its beauty; and lastly wears it lightly as a robe which he can easily throw off, for he sees the reality and divine splendor of the inmost nature bursting through each chink and cranny.

There appears no assurance that in the times of our own grandchildren the world will contain viable populations of wild African Lions, Tigers, Polar Bears, Emperor Penguins, gorillas, or coral reefs. These are the animals expectant parents pain on nursery room walls. Their implied wish: to welcome precious new life in to a world endowed with the magnificence and delight and fright of companions we have traveled with since the beginning. Some people debate the “rights of the unborn” as though a human life begins at conception but we don’t need to concern ourselves with its prospects after birth. Raging over the divine sanctity of anyone else’s pregnancy is a little overwrought and a little too easy when nature itself terminates one out of four by the sixth week. There are much bigger, more compassionate pro-life fish to fry. Passing along a world that can allow real children to flourish and the cavalcade of generations to unfold, and the least to live in modest dignity would be the biggest pro-life enterprise we could undertake.

The real world, in my opinion, exists in the countryside, where Nature goes about her quiet business and brings us greatest pleasure.

There are gentler and more graceful ways to interface with natural conflict.

There are great roads, beautiful bridges, lovely parks, gorgeous gardens and wonderful buildings in a big city. But there is something missing, something very important: The spirit of nature!

There are high places that don’t invite us, sharp shapes, glacier-scraped faces, whole ranges whose given names slip off. Any such relation as we try to make refuses to take…I’m giddy with thinking where thinking can’t stick. No Names

There are many paths leading to a garden and many experiences awaiting those who venture in. No matter what your motive—whether to grow healthy, delicious food; spend time outdoors feeling more alive than your desk job allows; help save the planet; find relaxation, solace, or healing; meet your neighbors; get your hands in the sweet earth; or discover for yourself just how abundant and generous nature can be—a garden rarely disappoints. It’s a magnet for life in all its quirky, beautiful forms.

… there are no arbitrary constants ... nature is so constituted that it is possible logically to lay down such strongly determined laws that within these laws only rationally determined constants occur (not constants, therefore, whose numerical value could be changed without destroying the theory).

There are no intermediaries when it comes to matters of change. Anyone who is not for change is against it. Anyone who is against change is an enemy of nature!

There are no more than two or three crimes to commit in the world,’ said Curval. ‘Once those are done there is no more to be said – what remains is inferior and one no longer feels a thing. How many times, good God, have I not wished it were possible to attack the sun, to deprive the universe of it, or to use it to set the world ablaze – those would be crimes indeed, and not the little excesses in which we indulge, which do no more than metamorphose, in the course of a year, a dozen creatures into clods of earth.

There are people, of course, who think it unscientific to take anything seriously; they do not want their intellectual playground disturbed by graver considerations. But the doctor who fails to take account of man's feelings for values commits a serious blunder, and if he tries to correct the mysterious and well-nigh inscrutable workings of nature with his so-called scientific attitude, he is merely putting his shallow sophistry in place of nature's healing processes.

There are some laws that are coded into the very nature of the universe, and one is: There Is Never Enough Shelf Space.

There are some Christians who say that most scientists today have misunderstood the facts of nature. They say that the facts clearly point to a universe created just a few thousand years ago. But such a belief is inconsistent with what Romans 1:20 implies. Paul says that the evidence left by the creator should be clearly visible so that all, even the scientists studying the universe, are without excuse if they fail to see it...[T]his is exactly the case with the big bang.

There are strange red depths in the soul of the most commonplace man. I am tenderhearted by nature, and have found my eyes moist many a time over the scream of a wounded hare. Yet the blood lust was on me now. I found myself on my feet emptying one magazine, then the other, clicking open the breech to re-load, snapping it to again, while cheering and yelling with pure ferocity and joy of slaughter as I did so.

There are times when the unseen can be even more dangerous than what our eyes behold.

There can be no law of nature, no science, No aberrant infliction of human will That unchained the soul cannot conquer, Simply sweep away, should it chose to.

there can be occasions when we suddenly and involuntarily find ourselves loving r=the natural world with a startling intensity, in a burst of emotion which we may not fully understand, and the only word that seems to me to be appropriate for this feeling is joy

There comes a hush between darkness and day. Like expectation of a caress. A murmur of silence. Tree crests peeked down at Paulette through slowly lifting fog. Bark felt around for its texture again. Morning gathered and drifted through mere hints; through vague hopeful nuances of ‘Just maybe’. - From "The Gardens of Ailana" handbook for healers & mystics

Therefore am I still / A lover of the meadows and the woods, / And mountains; and of all that we behold / From this green earth; of all the mighty world / Of eye and ear, both what they half create / And what perceive; well pleased to recognize / In nature and the language of the sense, / The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse/ The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul / Of all my moral being.

There in the highlands, clear weather held for much of the time. The air lacked its usual haze, and the view stretched on and on across rows of blue mountains, each paler than the last until the final ranks were indistinguishable from the sky. It was as if all the world might be composed of nothing but valley and ridge.

There is always a sense of loss, a feeling forgotten. There is nothing else here; no castles, no ancient monuments, no hills like green clouds. It is just a curve of earth, a rawness of winter fields. Dim, flat, desolate lands that cauterise all sorrow.

There is a miracle in your mess, don't let the mess make you miss the miracle.

There is a natural magic in the feeling of love that has been nourished by Mother Nature through millions of years. It can make you reach the zenith of your true potential. It can awaken your mind towards your deepest powers, and make you endowed with tools of greatness that you can never access in an ordinary state of mind.

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep Sea, and music in its roar: I love not Man the less, but Nature more, From these our interviews, in which I steal From all I may be, or have been before, To mingle with the Universe, and feel What I can ne’er express, yet cannot all conceal.

There is a property in the horizon which no man has but he whose eye can integrate all parts, that is, the poet.

There is a tender breeze Wafting around here Feel it from your Soul You will see Magic over here Did I just now hear a beautiful symphony over here ? Or is it just your soothing words murmuring in my ear? Is it the cute mynah bird on my shoulder? Or is it your soft head nestling that I feel so tender? There is a tender breeze Wafting around here Feel it from your Soul You will see Magic over here... Did I just now hear the nightingale sing around here? Or is it the breeze whispering softly to the trees near? Is that you giggling away to glory? Or is that just the flowers mingling with the bees and telling their story? There is a tender breeze Wafting around here Feel it from your Soul You will see Magic over here..

There is a whole world out there, waiting for you. A world filled with opportunities wherever and whenever you want to grasp them. And whether you do or you don’t…. well that is totally up to you.