Meadows Quotes - Page 5

• Looking at the poems of John Gray when I saw the tiniest rivulet of text meandering through the very largest meadow of margin, I suggested to Oscar Wilde that he should go a step further than these minor poets; he should publish a book all margin; full of beautiful, unwritten thoughts.

  Ada Leverson

  Beautiful, Book, Oscars

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• Look at this vigorous plant that lifts its head from the meadow, See how its leaves are turned to the north, as true as the magnet; This is the compass-flower, that the finger of God has planted Here in the houseless wild, to direct the traveller's journey. Over the sea-like, pathless, limitless waste of the desert, Such in the soul of man is faith.

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  Flower, Journey, Men

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (Illustrated)”, p.359, Delphi Classics

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• Times are changed with him who marries; there are no more by-path meadows, where you may innocently linger, but the road lies long and straight and dusty to the grave. Idleness, which is often becoming and even wise in the bachelor, begins to wear a different aspect when you have a wife to support.

  Robert Louis Stevenson

  Wise, Lying, Wife

  1881 Virginibus Puerisque,'Virginibus Puerisque', pt.2.

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• Among the hills, when you sit in the cool shade of the white poplars, sharing the peace and serenity of distant fields and meadows - then let your heart say in silence, "God rests in reason." And when the storm comes, and the mighty wind shakes the forest, and thunder and lightning proclaim the majesty of the sky, - then let your heart say in awe, "God moves in passion.

  Khalil Gibran

  Moving, Passion, Heart

  Khalil Gibran (2014). “The Prophet - Der Prophet”, p.82, Lulu.com

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• The tender Evenlode that makes Her meadows hush to hear the sound Of waters mingling in the brakes, And binds my heart to English ground. A lovely river, all alone, She lingers in the hills and holds A hundred little towns of stone, Forgotten in the western wolds.

  Hilaire Belloc

  Heart, Rivers, Water

  Hilaire Belloc (1962). “Hilaire Belloc: An Anthology of His Prose and Verse”

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• He who abhors and shuns the light of the Sun,He who refuses to behold with respect the living creation of God,He who leads the good to wickedness,He who makes the meadows waterless and the pastures desolate,He who lets fly his weapon against the innocent,An enemy of my faith, a destroyer of Thy principles is he, O Lord!

  Zoroaster

  Past, Light, Enemy

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• Kevin stopped where he was and stood there simply gazing at her. Molly sat cross-legged in the meadow with the sun shining on her bare shoulders and a pair of yellow butterflies fluttering like hair bows around her head. She was all the dreams he'd lost at dawn-dreams of everything he hadn't understood he needed until now. She was his playmate, his confidante, the lover who made his blood rush. She was the mother of his children and the companion of his old age. She was the joy of his heart.

  Susan Elizabeth Phillips

  Mother, Dream, Children

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• I walked in the meadows of green grieving for my life.

  Ivan Turgenev

  Grieving, Green

  Ivan Sergeevich Turgenev (1967). “Sketches from a hunter's album”, Penguin Classics

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• How will it ever be bearable, Priestess?” His voice was rough. He sounded completely broken. “You’ll see her again. She’s with Nyx now. She’ll either wait for you in the Goddess’s meadow, or she’ll be reborn and her soul will find you again during this lifetime. You can bear it because you know that spirit never really ends-we never really end.

  P. C. Cast

  Voice, Broken, Waiting

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• Harshness vanished. A sudden softness has replaced the meadows' wintry grey. Little rivulets of water changed their singing accents. Tendernesses, hesitantly, reach toward the earth from space, and country lanes are showing these unexpected subtle risings that find expression in the empty trees.

  Rainer Maria Rilke

  Country, Spring, Expression

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• I would play ball with Catherine, and hide and seek: Not a very challenging game in an open meadow, but she was still at the age where she believed that if she shut her eyes and buried her head under a shawl then she could not be seen.

  Philippa Gregory

  Eye, Games, Play

  Philippa Gregory (2008). “The Other Boleyn Girl (Movie Tie-In)”, p.229, Simon and Schuster

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• The great events of life often leave one unmoved; they pass out of consciousness, and, when thinks of them, become unreal. Even the scarlet flowers of passion seem to grow in the same meadow as the poppies of oblivion. We reject the burden of their memory, and have anodynes against them. But the little things, the things of no moment, remain with us. In some tiny ivory cell the brain stores the most delicate, and the most fleeting impressions.

  Oscar Wilde

  Memories, Flower, Passion

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• Tis true among fields and woods I sing, Aloof from cities--that my poor strains Were born, like the simple flowers you bring, In English meadows and English lanes.

  Alfred Austin

  Flower, Simple, Cities

  Alfred Austin (1896). “Days of the Year: A Poetic Calendar from the Works of A. Austin”

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• Up from the meadows rich with corn, Clear in the cool September morn

  John Greenleaf Whittier

  Corn, Months, September

  'Barbara Frietchie' l. 1

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• Subby Subby Subby," whispered Goss. "Keep those little bells on your slippers as quiet as you can. Sparklehorse and Starpink have managed to creep out of Apple Palace past all the monkeyfish, but if we're silent as tiny goblins we can surprise them and then all frolic off together in the Meadow of Happy Kites.

  China Mieville

  Past, Kraken, Apples

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• The fireflies o'er the meadow In pulses come and go.

  James Russell Lowell

  Firefly, Pulse, Comes And Goes

  James Russell Lowell (1871). “The poetical works of James Russell Lowell”, p.16

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• A vi'let on the meadow grew, That no one saw, that no one knew, It was a modest flower. A shepherdess pass'd by that way-- Light footed, pretty and so gay; That way she came, Softly warbling forth her lay.

  Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

  Flower, Gay, Light

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• And by the meadow-trenches blow the faint sweet cuckoo-flowers.

  Alfred Lord Tennyson

  Sweet, Flower, Blow

  Alfred, Lord Tennyson (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Alfred, Lord Tennyson (Illustrated)”, p.316, Delphi Classics

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• All Thy works with joy surround Thee, God of glory, Lord of Love; Stars and angels sing around Thee, Center of unbroken praise. Field and forest, vale and mountain, Flowery meadow, flashing sea, Chanting bird and flowing fountain, Call us to rejoice in Thee.

  Henry Van Dyke

  Stars, Angel, Sea

  Henry Van Dyke, “Hymn Of Joy”

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• I used to lie down on the grass and draw the blades as they grew - until every square foot of meadow, or mossy bank, became a possession to me.

  John Ruskin

  Lying, Squares, Feet

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• You will say that everyone has seen landscapes and figures from childhood on. The question is: Has everybody also been reflexive as a child? Has everybody who has seen them also loved heath, fields, meadows, woods, and the snow and the rain and the s.

  Vincent Van Gogh

  Children, Rain, Snow

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• Art is like a butterfly fluttering in a meadow. Analysis of art is like a butterfly on a pin. Each has its value, but we must always be aware of the difference, and what is gained or lost.

  Walter Darby Bannard

  Art, Butterfly, Differences

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• How dear to my heart are the scenes of my childhood, When fond recollection recalls them to view; The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wildwood, And every loved spot which my infancy knew.

  Samuel Woodworth

  Nature, Heart, Views

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• Take your brush here and there like a bee in an alpine meadow. In other words, don't laboriously work on or try to finish off one particular part. Paint promiscuously.

  Robert Genn

  Trying, Bees, Here And There

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• The bird is gone, and in what meadow does it now sing?

  Philip K. Dick

  Bird, Doe, Gone

  Philip K. Dick (2012). “Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said”, p.22, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

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