Orchard Quotes - Page 5

• The soul grows into lovely habits as easily as into ugly ones, and the moment a life begins to blossom into beautiful words and deeds, that moment a new standard of conduct is established, and your eager neighbors look to you for a continuous manifestation of the good cheer, the sympathy, the ready wit, the comradeship, or the inspiration, you once showed yourself capable of. Bear figs for a season or two, and the world outside the orchard is very unwilling you should bear thistles.

  Kate Douglas Wiggin

  Beautiful, Cheer, Inspiration

  Kate Douglas Wiggin (2016). “REBECCA OF SUNNYBROOK FARM & NEW CHRONICLES OF REBECCA (Children’s Book Classics): Adventure Novels”, p.124, e-artnow

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• He is all pine and I am apple orchard. My apple trees will never get across And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him. He only says, "Good fences make good neighbors.

  Robert Frost

  Apples, Tree, Neighbor

  "MendingWall" l. 25 (1914)

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• He got out of bed and peeped through the blinds. To the east and opposite to him gardens and an apple-orchard lay, and there in strange liquid tranquility hung the morning star, and rose, rilling into the dusk of night the first grey of dawn. The street beneath its autumn leaves was vacant, charmed, deserted.

  Walter de La Mare

  Morning, Stars, Autumn

  Walter De la Mare (1933). “The Walter De La Mare Omnibus: Henry Brocken ; The Return ; Memoirs of a Midget”

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• I was ripe ten years ago. Now I’m merely preserved, and before long I’ll be buried back in the orchard with the other pits.” -Amanda to Jack

  Lisa Kleypas

  Years, Long, Pits

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• The snow lay thin and apologetic over the world. That wide grey sweep was the lawn, with the straggling trees of the orchard still dark beyond; the white squares were the roofs of the garage, the old barn, the rabbit hutches, the chicken coops. Further back there were only the flat fields of Dawson's farm, dimly white-striped. All the broad sky was grey, full of more snow that refused to fall. There was no colour anywhere.

  Susan Cooper

  Fall, Dark, White

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• EVERYONE suddenly burst out singing; And I was filled with such delight As prisoned birds must find in freedom, Winging wildly across the white Orchards and dark-green fields; on—on—and out of sight. Everyone’s voice was suddenly lifted; And beauty came like the setting sun: My heart was shaken with tears; and horror Drifted away ... O, but Everyone Was a bird; and the song was wordless; the singing will never be done.

  Siegfried Sassoon

  Song, Heart, Dark

  War Poems (1919) "Everyone Sang"

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• Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers to-day;
  And give us not to think so far away
  As the uncertain harvest; keep us here
  All simply in the springing of the year.
  
  Oh, give us pleasure in the orchard white,
  Like nothing else by day, like ghosts by night;
  And make us happy in the happy bees,
  The swarm dilating round the perfect trees.

  Robert Frost

  Spring, Flower, Thinking

  Robert Frost (2013). “Delphi Works of Robert Frost (Illustrated)”, p.10, Delphi Classics

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• I thought how utterly we have forsaken the Earth, in the sense of excluding it from our thoughts. There are but few who consider its physical hugeness, its rough enormity. It is still a disparate monstrosity, full of solitudes, barrens, wilds. It still dwarfs, terrifies, crushes. The rivers still roar, the mountains still crash, the winds still shatter. Man is an affair of cities. His gardens, orchards and fields are mere scrapings. Somehow, however, he has managed to shut out the face of the giant from his windows. But the giant is there, nevertheless.

  Wallace Stevens

  Crush, Men, Garden

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• The desired Islamic state might be likened to an orchard planted with olive and palm trees that will take a relatively long time to produce fruit.

  Yusuf al-Qaradawi

  Islamic, Long, Tree

  Yūsuf Qaraḍāwī (2006). “Islamic Awakening: Between Rejection and Extremism”, p.159, International Institute of Islamic Thought (IIIT)

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• Return to Shaoshan I regret the passing, the dying, of the vague dream: my native orchards thirty-two years ago. Yet red banners roused the serfs, who seized three-pronged lances when the warlords raised whips in their black hands. We were brave and sacrifice was easy and we asked the sun, the moon, to alter the sky. Now I see a thousand waves of beans and rice and am happy. In the evening haze heroes are coming home.

  Mao Zedong

  Dream, Regret, Hero

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• To write a book such as Tiger Bone & Rhino Horn is a formidable undertaking. You must accumulate thousands of facts and spare no detail, no matter how terrible. It is always easier to write a piece of fluff and leave everybody smiling. But then, the horrors of poaching would continue unchallenged?like as tent caterpillars consuming an apple orchard, our species mindlessly consumes the others of the earth. At present, the most significant hope for our planet may be knowledge, and Richard Ellis has done a heroic job in providing a large measure of that.

  Elizabeth Marshall Thomas

  Jobs, Book, Writing

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• When Christopher finished, there was a moment of silence. Leo looked at Cam expectantly. “Well?” “Well what?” “Now is the time when you dredge up one of your blasted Romany sayings. Something about roosters laying eggs, or pigs dancing in the orchard. It’s what you always do. Let’s have it.” Cam gave him a sardonic glance. “I can’t think of one right now.” “By God, I’ve had to listen to hundreds of them. And Phelan doesn’t have to hear even one?

  Lisa Kleypas

  Thinking, Pigs, Eggs

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• The world that was not mine yesterday now lies spread out at my feet, a splendor. I seem, in the middle of the night, to have returned to the world of apples, the orchards of Heaven. Perhaps I should take my problems to a shrink, or perhaps I should enjoy the apples that I have, streaked with color like the evening sky.

  John Cheever

  Lying, Night, Sky

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• A narrow pond would form in the orchard, water clear as air covering grass and black leaves and fallen branches, all around it black leaves and drenched grass and fallen branches, and on it, slight as an image in an eye, sky, clouds, trees, our hovering faces and our cold hands.

  Marilynne Robinson

  Eye, Clouds, Air

  Marilynne Robinson (2004). “Housekeeping: A Novel”, p.5, Macmillan

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• She wondered: How could people respond to these images if images didn't secretly enjoy the same status as real things? Not that images were so powerful, but that the world was so weak. It could be read, certainly, in its weakness, as on days when the sun baked fallen apples in orchards and the valley smelled like cider, and cold nights when Jordan had driven Chadds Ford for dinner and the tires of her Chevrolet had crunched on the gravel driveway; but the world was fungible only as images. Nothing got inside the head without becoming pictures.

  Jonathan Franzen

  Powerful, Real, Night

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• The summer has seized you, as when, last month in Amalfi, I saw lemons as large as your desk-side globe-that miniature map of the world-and I could mention, too, the market stalls of mushrooms and garlic bugs all engorged. Or I even think of the orchard next door, where the berries are done and the apples are beginning to swell. And once, with our first backyard,I remember I planted an acre of yellow beans we couldn't eat.

  Anne Sexton

  Summer, Thinking, Doors

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• The era of wild apples will soon be over. I wander through old orchards of great extent, now all gone to decay, all of native fruit which for the most part went to the cider mill. But since the temperance reform and the general introduction of grafted fruit, no wild apples, such as I see everywhere in deserted pastures, and where the woods have grown up among them, are set out. I fear that he who walks over these hills a century hence will not know the pleasure of knocking off wild apples.

  Henry David Thoreau

  Apples, Decay, Cider

  Henry David Thoreau, Joseph O. Valentine, Thoreau Society (2001). “Thoreau on Land: Nature's Canvas”, p.77, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

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• But why should not the New Englander try new adventures - not lay so much stress on his grain, his potato and grass crop, and his orchards - and raise other crops than these? Why concern ourselves so much about our beans for seed, and not be concerned at all about a new generation of men.

  Henry David Thoreau

  Stress, Adventure, Men

  Henry David Thoreau (2016). “The Illustrated Walden: Thoreau Bicentennial Edition”, p.171, Penguin

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• I am dying into your mystery, and dying, I am now no other than that mystery. I open to your majesty as an orchard welcomes rain, and twenty times that.

  Rumi

  Rain, Dying, Twenties

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• He knows well the evening star, and once when he awoke, in a most distressful mood (some inward pain had made up that strange thing, an infant's dream), I hurried with him to our orchard plot, and he beheld the moon, and hushed at once. Suspends his sobs and laughs most silently. While his fair eyes, that swam with undropped tears, did glitter in the yellow moonbeam.

  Samuel Taylor Coleridge

  Dream, Stars, Pain

  Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1854). “The complete works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge: With an introductory essay upon his philosophical and theological opinions”, p.175

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• There's a graveyard in northern France where all the dead boys from D-Day are buried. The white crosses reach from one horizon to the other. I remember looking it over and thinking it was a forest of graves. But the rows were like this, dizzying, diagonal, perfectly straight, so after all it wasn't a forest but an orchard of graves. Nothing to do with nature, unless you count human nature.

  Barbara Kingsolver

  War, Sacrifice, Boys

  Barbara Kingsolver (2009). “Animal Dreams: A Novel”, p.14, Harper Collins

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• ... store of bees, in a dry and warme bee-house, comely made of fir boards, to sing, and sit, and feede upon your flowers and sprouts, make a pleasant noyse and sight. For cleanly and innocent bees, of all other things, love and become, and thrive in your orchard. If they thrive (as they must needs if your gardiner be skilfull, and love them: for they love their friends and hate none
  but their enemies) they will besides the pleasure, yeeld great profit, to pay him his wages; yea the increase of twenty stock of stools with other bees, will keep your orchard.

  William Lawson

  Love, Hate, Flower

  William Lawson, Simon Harward (1927). “A new orchard & garden: or, The best way for planting, graffing, and to make any ground good for a rich orchard: particularly in the north, and generally for the whole commonwealth, as in nature, reason, situation, and all probability, may and doth appear. With the country house-wifes garden for herbs of common use. Their virtues, seasons, ornaments, variety of knots, models for trees, and plots, for the best ordering of grounds and walks. As also the husbandry of bees, with their several uses and annoyances: all being the experience of forty eight years labour”

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• The great and amorous sky curved over the earth, and lay upon her as a pure lover. The rain, the humid flux descending from heaven for both man and animal, for both thick and strong, germinated the wheat, swelled the furrows with fecund mud and brought forth the buds in the orchards. And it is I who empowered these moist espousals, I the great Aphrodite.

  Aeschylus

  Strong, Rain, Animal

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• A flock of sheep near the airport or a high voltage generator beside the orchard: these combinations open up my life like a wound, but they also heal it. That's why my feelings always come in twos.

  Yehuda Amichai

  Airports, Sheep, Feelings

  Yehuda Amichai (2013). “The Selected Poetry of Yehuda Amichai”, p.152, Univ of California Press

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• O world, world when I was younger I thought there was some order governing you and your deeds. But now you seem to be a labyrinth of errors, a frightful desert, a den of wild beasts, a game in which men move in circles…a stony field, a meadow full of serpents, a flowering but barren orchard, a spring of cares, a river of tears, a sea of suffering, a vain hope.

  Fernando de Rojas

  Spring, Moving, Men

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