The moment a little boy is concerned with which is a jay and which is a sparrow, he can no longer see the birds or hear them sing.
What makes a river so restful to people is that it doesn't have any doubt - it is sure to get where it is going, and it doesn't want to go anywhere else.
To cherish what remains of the Earth and to foster its renewal is our only legitimate hope of survival.
I am not bound for any public place, but for ground of my own where I have planted vines and orchard trees, and in the heat of the day climbed up into the healing shadow of the woods.
I think that I shall never see a poem lovely as a tree.
There is no forgiveness in nature.
Having contemplated this admirable grove, I proceeded towards the shrubberies on the banks of the river, and though it was now late in December, the aromatic groves appeared in full bloom.
My progress was rendered delightful by the sylvan elegance of the groves, chearful meadows, and high distant forests, which in grand order presented themselves to view.
The lake and the mountains have become my landscape, my real world.
It was one of those perfect English autumnal days which occur more frequently in memory than in life.
P. D. James
I perhaps owe having become a painter to flowers.
There is nothing in which the birds differ more from man than the way in which they can build and yet leave a landscape as it was before.
Robert Wilson Lynd
Maybe nature is fundamentally ugly, chaotic and complicated. But if it's like that, then I want out.
I remember a hundred lovely lakes, and recall the fragrant breath of pine and fir and cedar and poplar trees. The trail has strung upon it, as upon a thread of silk, opalescent dawns and saffron sunsets.
Whenever the pressure of our complex city life thins my blood and numbs my brain, I seek relief in the trail; and when I hear the coyote wailing to the yellow dawn, my cares fall from me - I am happy.
My recollection of a hundred lovely lakes has given me blessed release from care and worry and the troubled thinking of our modern day. It has been a return to the primitive and the peaceful.
The ground we walk on, the plants and creatures, the clouds above constantly dissolving into new formations - each gift of nature possessing its own radiant energy, bound together by cosmic harmony.
People in cities may forget the soil for as long as a hundred years, but Mother Nature's memory is long and she will not let them forget indefinitely.
Henry Cantwell Wallace
- Father's Day
- Memorial Day
- Mother's Day