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Nature S Beauty Quotes

Browse 130 quotes about Nature S Beauty.

Nature S Beauty Quotes

“You know the feeling, when the morning breeze gushes onto you and makes you literally wonder how on Earth are you so fortunate to walk on this Beautiful planet, the feeling that the Mountains wave in your heart telling you nothing is too big to leave you in pain, while the waves find you the soothing monotony of Calm making you know that the Simplest of Life is the Purest of All. That, precisely that is the feeling I am always running after, and in wandering along the woods I find them, in the Stillness of a long lost wind, in the restless air softly kissing away my eyes, and the galloping meandering murky redolence of Earth, who knows exactly how to find me a missing piece, somewhere stolen and quietly tucked in the time-worn fragments of a solitary Sunshine.”

“Reluctant to return to the empty rooms of Bluebell Cottage, Olivia ate fish and chips on the harbor wall, dangling her legs over the side just like she used to as a little girl, even though it made her mam anxious. The breeze nipped at the back of her neck and whipped up a fine sea spray that settled on her hands, leaving sparkling salt crystals as it dried. Fairy dust, she used to call it. She breathed in the fresh air and absorbed the view: tangerine sky and dove-gray sea, ripples on the surface of both, like dragon scales. She savored the sharp tang of vinegar on her tongue, letting her thoughts wander as the sun slowly melted into the sea, turning it to liquid gold.”

“Searching for Love in Everything We are so much like these rocks I think to myself One morning While passing a sea of black, gray, and white Pebbles All different shapes, sizes, colors They drift past one another On land or in oceans All while we collide, we crash Gracefully or without the intention of even finding one another Is it messy or beautiful? Our choice or fate? We all have a home We all have a story And perhaps we are found In the waves that rush Where over time we lose our sharp edges And the water All-knowing Smooths us out Reminding us to be gentle with ourselves Perhaps the boulders basking in the light On land carry similar knowledge And, like us Maybe they love watching the clouds in the day And even more the stars at night Maybe all of life ponders the change the earth makes as we constantly gain and lose sight As we try to follow a path to love this life There must be love to go around In all places In all things Isn’t all of it a greater message for the love present in this world? They were here before us And will remain long after Perhaps one day Long after Love will exist For and within Everything”

“A Magic Hour’s Dreaming by Stewart Stafford Is there a sight more fair than wheaten fields, Awaiting the sun's ambush to potently ignite? Colour vibrates beyond the eye revealed, To live, dance and breathe in honeyed light. Nature’s palette, painted hues so bright, Invites the bees to sip and man to dream, Of engineered art, dazzling to the sight, Authored lightning in a celestial seam. The creator’s canvas, mint beyond decay, Invites the inner child to replenish at source, Where Nature’s staff casts shadows away, Friendships bond as a trickling stream's course. An eyeblink flash carved in history's tree, Treasured riches pooled of those by our side. For in sepia’s sunflower memory, We court the hand of an agreeable bride. Fading birdsong underscores this bottled time, In butterfly hearts, the hourglass stilled sublime. Autumn's leaves, ochre embers, curtsied fall, Farewell Summer, until roused in New Year's call. © 2024, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”

“All of them, the planets, are alive, and we can easily be ascertained of this if we pay close attention to our mother planet, Earth. If we listen closely, we can hear her breathe - it is the wind that blows around us. If we pay heed, we can hear her speak to us - it is the leaves that rustle in forests, for the trees are deeply connected with Earth's mind through their roots...”

“To the Finnish, being outdoors in nature isn't about paying homage to nature or to ourselves, the way it tends to be for Americans. We fetishize are life lists, catalog peaks bagged and capture pristine scenes of grand wilderness It is largely an individual experience. For the Finnish, though, nature is about expressing a close-knit identity. Nature is where they can exult in their nationalistic obsessions of berry-picking, mushrooming, fishing, lake swimming and Nordic skiing.”

“As they strode through the meadow, she had the eerie sensation of walking atop waves. Except this was a sea of petals, not saltwater. Her toe caught on a fallen branch, and she stumbled a bit. "Are you all right?" Colin asked. She nodded. "I was just distracted. Wondering how much loam is in this soil." "What?" He set down his side of the trunk. Minerva did the same. "You know," she said. "Loam. A mix of clay and sand. In order for he soil to support this many bluebells, it would-" "You're standing in the middle of this," -he spread his arms wide to indicate Nature's splendor- " and you're thinking about loam in the soil? You spend far too much time staring at the ground." Rounding the trunk, Colin plucked her off her feet. With gentle strength, he tumbled her into the bluebells. She lay flat on her back, breathless and dizzy from the sudden inversion. From the sudden nearness of him. He lay down next to her. "There. Have a rest. Look up at the sky for a change." Minerva stared up from the uneven ground. Her heartbeat drummed in her ears, and a crushed green scent engulfed her senses. The grasses and bluebells towered over her, swaying in the gentle breeze and dripping loveliness. Above everything, the sky hovered brilliantly and blue. Nearly cloudless, save for a few wispy, changing puffs of white that were apparently too proud to mimic rabbits or dragons or sailing ships.”

“Life is incomplete without understanding the language of the beauty of the flowers, rocks, fine mountain lines, autumn leaves, clouds, stars and galaxies in the deep sky, music of the early birds, sunshine into the trees, and movements of the butterflies. The extravaganza of nature ignites the light that you have inside.”

“With a calmness born from exhaustion and terror, the shaking of his body stilled, his heart slowing. The cougars were burnished gold in the moonlight, their shapes bright against the damp grey cliff. The two cubs moved across the ragged edge of the rocky outcrop, their mother a stone's throw below. Rich gasped as the female in front jumped to a lower ledge, balancing on the small precipice. She watched him warily, her head moving back and forth as if trying to ascertain what he was, and whether he was worth the bother.”

“Few people would argue that Stony Cross Park was one of the most beautiful places in England. The Hampshire estate sustained an infinite variety of terrain from near-impenetrable forests to brilliantly flowered wet meadows and bogs to the stalwart honey-colored stone manor on a bluff over looking the Itchen river. Life flourished everywhere, pale shoots springing from the carpet of decayed leaves at the foot of fissured oaks and cedar, stands of bluebells glowing in the darker parts of the forest. Red grasshoppers vaulted through meadows filled with wild primrose and lady's-smock, while translucent blue damselflies hovered over the intricately cut white petals of bog bean flowers. It smelled like spring, the air saturated with the scent of sweet box hedge and tender green lawn.”

“After this, when I have a dream of a certain kind...a golden-green, crimson-veined dream...a very dream of dreams...I shall please my fancy with the belief that it came from my secret dell of birches and was born of some mystic union between the slenderest, airiest of the sisters and the crooning brook. I love to sit there and listen to the silence of the grove.”