Forests Quotes - Page 35

• Was it pretty? Your country. . .your land?" "It was beautiful," the gunslinger said. "There were fields and forests and rivers and mists in the morning. But that's only pretty. My mother used to say that the only real beauty is order and love and light.

  Stephen King

  Beautiful, Mother, Country

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• But I do like churches. The way it feels inside. It feels good when you just sit there, like you're in a forest and everything's really quiet, expect there's still this sound you can't hear.

  Tim O'Brien

  Feel Good, Church, Sound

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• I tried to discover, in the rumor of forests and waves, words that other men could not hear, and I pricked up my ears to listen to the revelation of their harmony.

  Gustave Flaubert

  Inspirational, Men, Rumor

  Gustave Flaubert (2005). “November: Fragments in a Nondescript Style”, Hesperus Press

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• The clan of heroes, the clan of compassion,the clan of destiny." (Firestar on Thunderclan, secrets of the clans) No matter what trials we must endure, Windclan will last forever."(Tallstar on Windclan, secrets of the clans) We are grace. We are power. We are Riverclan."(Leopardstar on Riverclan, secrets of the clans) Shadowclan will always be the dark heart of the forest." Blackstar on Shadowclan, secrets of the clans)

  Erin Hunter

  Hero, Heart, Dark

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• However much you feed a wolf, it always looks to the forest. We are all wolves of the dense forest of Eternity.

  Marina Tsvetaeva

  Looks, Eternity, Dense

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• By eating meat we share responsibility for causing climate change, the destruction of our forests, and the poisoning of our air and water. The simple act of becoming a vegetarian can make a difference in the health of our planet.

  Nhat Hanh

  Buddhist, Peace, Responsibility

  "The World We Have: A Buddhist Approach to Peace and Ecology". Book by Nhat Hanh, September 1, 2008.

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• Divinity must live within herself: Passions of rain, or moods in the falling snow; Grievings in loneliness, or unsubdued Elations when the forest blooms; gusty Emotions on wet roads on autumn nights; All pleasures and all pains, remembering The boughs of summer and the winter branch. These are the measures destined for her soul.

  Wallace Stevens

  Summer, Pain, Loneliness

  Wallace Stevens (2002). “Harmonium”, p.105, Icaria Editorial

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• I miss that time. The cities back then, just after the forests died, were full of wonders, and you'd stumble on them--these princes of the air on common rooftops--the rivers that burst through the city streets so they ran like canals--the rabbits in parking garages--the deer foaling, nestled in Dumpsters like a Nativity.

  Matthew Tobin Anderson

  Air, Cities, Rivers

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• The greatest book is not the one whose message engraves itself on the brain, as a telegraphic message engraves itself on the ticker-tape, but the one whose vital impact opens up other viewpoints, and from writer to reader spreads the fire that is fed by the various essences, until it becomes a vast conflagration leaping from forest to forest.

  Romain Rolland

  Book, Fire, Impact

  "Journey Within". Book by Romain Rolland. Chapter 2: "The Three Revelations", 1947.

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• You must know the story of how the race of ancient days reached the stars, and how they bargained away all the wild half of themselves to do so, so that they no longer cared for the taste of the pale wind, no for love or lust, nor to make new songs nor to sing old ones, nor for any of the other animal things they believed they had brought with them out of the rain forests al the bottom of time--though in fact, so my uncle told me, those things brought them

  Gene Wolfe

  Song, Stars, Uncles

  Gene Wolfe (1994). “Sword & Citadel: The Second Half of 'The Book of the New Sun'”, p.38, Orb Books

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• The old grey donkey, Eeyore stood by himself in a thistly corner of the Forest, his front feet well apart, his head on one side, and thought about things. Sometimes he thought sadly to himself, "Why?" and sometimes he thought, "Wherefore?" and sometimes he thought, "Inasmuch as which?" and sometimes he didn't quite know what he was thinking about.

  A. A. Milne

  Depression, Thinking, Feet

  A. A. Milne (2012). “Winnie-the-Pooh”, p.38, Egmont UK

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• With you a part of me hath passed away; For in the peopled forest of my mind A tree made leafless by this wintry wind Shall never don again its green array. Chapel and fireside, country road and bay, Have something of their friendliness resigned; Another, if I would, I could not find, And I am grown much older in a day. But yet I treasure in my memory Your gift of charity, and young hearts ease, And the dear honour of your amity; For these once mine, my life is rich with these. And I scarce know which part may greater be,-- What I keep of you, or you rob from me.

  George Santayana

  Country, Memories, Heart

  George Santayana, Martin A. Coleman (2009). “The Essential Santayana: Selected Writings”, p.484, Indiana University Press

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• If a tree falls in the forest and it hits a mime, would he make a noise?

  Brad Warner

  Fall, Tree, Noise

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• A friend of mine, the most innocuous dreamer who ever lived, once set a forest on fire to see, as he said, if it would catch as easily as people said. The first ten times the experiment was a failure; but on the eleventh it succeeded all too well.

  Charles Baudelaire

  Fire, People, Dreamer

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• They had killed themselves over our dying forests, over manatees maimed by propellers as they surfaced to drink from garden hoses; they had killed themselves at the sight of used tires stacked higher than the pyramids; they had killed themselves over the failure to find a love none of us could ever be. In the end, the tortures tearing the Lisbon girls pointed to a simple reasoned refusal to accept the world as it was handed down to them, so full of flaws.

  Jeffrey Eugenides

  Girl, Simple, Garden

  Jeffrey Eugenides (1993). “The Virgin Suicides: A Novel”, p.239, Macmillan

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• The Nothing is spreading," groaned the first. "It's growing and growing, there's more of it every day, if it's possible to speak of more nothing. All the others fled from Howling Forest in time, but we didn't want to leave our home. The Nothing caught us in our sleep and this is what it did to us." "Is it very painful?" Atreyu asked. "No," said the second bark troll, the one with the hole in his chest. "You don't feel a thing. There's just something missing. And once it gets hold of you, something more is missing every day. Soon there won't be anything left of us.

  Michael Ende

  Sleep, Home, Missing

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• Global warming, along with the cutting and burning of forests and other critical habitats, is causing the loss of living species at a level comparable to the extinction event that wiped out the dinosaurs 65 million years ago. That event was believed to have been caused by a giant asteroid. This time it is not an asteroid colliding with the Earth and wreaking havoc: it is us.

  Al Gore

  Inspirational, Cutting, Loss

  Al Gore (2006). “An Inconvenient Truth: The Planetary Emergency of Global Warming and What We Can Do About It”, p.10, Rodale

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• I am reminded of a story of Lord Krishna when he was a cowherd. Every night he invites the milkmaids to dance with him in the forest. They come and they dance. The night is dark, the fire in their midst roars and crackles, the beat of the music gets ever faster - the girls dance and dance and dance with their sweet lord, who has made himself so abundant as to be in the arms of each and every girl. But the moment the girls become possessive, the moment each one imagines that Krishna is her partner alone, he vanishes. So it is that we should not be jealous of God.

  Yann Martel

  Girl, Sweet, Jealous

  Yann Martel (2012). “Life Of Pi, Illustrated”, p.80, Canongate Books

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• But especially he loved to run in the dim twilight of the summer midnights, listening to the subdued and sleepy murmurs of the forest, reading signs and sounds as a man may read a book, and seeking for the mysterious something that called -- called, waking or sleeping, at all times, for him to come.

  Jack London

  Summer, Running, Book

  Jack London (1992). “The Call of the Wild and White Fang”, p.58, Wordsworth Editions

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• This is the effect of panic, a natural effect, you could say that animal nature is like this, plant life would behave in exactly the same way, too, if it did not have all those roots to hold it in the ground, and how nice it would be to see the trees of the forest fleeing the flames.

  Jose Saramago

  Nice, Animal, Flames

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• But it did not all happen in a day, this giving over of himself, body and soul, to the man-animals. He could not immediately forego his wild heritage and his memories of the Wild. There were days when he crept to the edge of the forest and stood and listened to something calling him far and away.

  Jack London

  Memories, Animal, Men

  Jack London (2016). “Klondike Two Pack: The Call of the Wild and White Fang”, p.128, Lulu.com

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• His eyes were eggs of unstable crystal, vibrating with a frequency whose name was rain and the sound of trains, suddenly sprouting a humming forest of hair-fine glass spines.

  William Gibson

  Rain, Eye, Glasses

  William Gibson (2000). “Neuromancer”, p.220, Penguin

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• We choose--or choose not--to be alone when we decide whom we will accept as our fellows, and whom we will reject. Thus an eremite in a mountain is in company, because the birds and coneys, the initiates whose words live in his 'forest books,' and the winds--the messengers of the Increate--are his companions. Another man, living in the midst of millions, may be alone, because there are none but enemies and victims around him.

  Gene Wolfe

  Book, Men, Wind

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• And I say also this. I do not think the forest would be so bright, nor the water so warm, nor love so sweet, if there were no danger in the lakes.

  C. S. Lewis

  Sweet, Thinking, Lakes

  C.S. Lewis (1996). “Out of the Silent Planet”, p.76, Simon and Schuster

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• That was a good time in my life, in spite of having the sensation of floating on a cloud, surrounded by both lies and things left unspoken. Occasionally I thought I glimpsed the truth, but soon found myself once again lost in a forest of ambiguities.

  Isabel Allende

  Lying, Clouds, Floating

  Isabel Allende (2016). “Eva Luna: A Novel”, p.143, Simon and Schuster

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