Home / Quotes / Quote by George William Curtis

Quote by George William Curtis

“A tree which has lost its head will never recover it again, and will survive only as a monument of the ignorance and folly of its Tormentor.”

Author

George William Curtis

George William Curtis was an American writer born on February 24, 1824, and died on August 31, 1892. He was known for his essays and editorial work, serving as the editor of Harper's Magazine, which had a significant impact on the literary world. more

“I remember once visiting an outdoor exhibition of sculpture in Arnhem, the Netherlands. One of the artists had placed this notice at the base of a majestic beech: "Statues are hewn by fools like me: only God could make this tree." The Taoists looked at the inside of the tree. They saw God present, not as the super-sculptor, but as the primal force from which the tree drew its being and its specific form. Becoming aware of this divine origin was for them "great knowledge," to be distinguished from the "small knowledge" of our petty, every-day existence.”

“The country where he lives is haunted by the ghost of an old forest. In the cleared fields where he gardens and pastures his horses it stood once, and will return. There will be a resurrection of the wild. Already it stands in wait at the pasture fences.”

Country Past Life Is Waiting Tree Fields Return Garden Horse Ghost Forests Resurrection Fence Stewardship Pastures

Book:New Collected Poems

Source: New Collected Poems

“Government cannot close its eyes to the pollution of waters, to the erosion of soil, to the slashing of forests any more than it can close its eyes to the need for slum clearance and schools.”

Needs Government Eye School Water Nature Environment Tree Forests Soil Fishing Pollution Slums Erosion Clearance

Book:Public Papers of the Presidents of the United States: F.D. Roosevelt, 1936, Volume 5

Source: Public Papers of the Presidents of the United States: F.D. Roosevelt, 1936, Volume 5

“As the days go on toward July, the earth becomes dry and all the flowers begin to thirst for moisture. Then from the hillside, some warm, still evening, the sweet rain-song of the robin echoes clear, and next day we wake up to a dim morning; soft flecks of cloud bar the sun's way, fleecy vapors steal across the sky, the southwest wind blows lightly, rippling the water into little waves that murmur melodiously as they kiss the shore.”

“Summer is a prodigal of joy. The grass Swarms with delighted insects as I pass, And crowds of grasshoppers at every stride Jump out all ways with happiness their guide; And from my brushing feet moths flit away In safer places to pursue their play. In crowds they start. I marvel, well I may, To see such worlds of insects in the way, And more to see each thing, however small, Sharing joy's bounty that belongs to all. And here I gather, by the world forgot, Harvests of comfort from their happy mood, Feeling God's blessing dwells in every spot And nothing lives but owes him gratitude.”

Quote by George William Curtis

Author

You May Also Like