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Trees Quotes

Browse 525 quotes about Trees.

Trees Quotes

“By now, at the end of a sloping alley, we had reached the shores of a vast marsh. Some unknown quality in the sparkling water had stained its whole bed a bright yellow. Green leaves, of such a sour brightness as almost poisoned to behold, floated on the surface of the rush-girdled pools. Weeds like tempting veils of mossy velvet grew beneath in vivid contrast with the soil. Alders and willows hung over the margin. From where we stood a half-submerged path of rough stones, threaded by deep swift channels, crossed to the very centre. ("The Basilisk")”

“I was tired in the evening yesterday. I felt drained by the last days outer conflicts. I felt separated from life. Suddenly I heard the wind blowing through the trees outside my open window, whispering a silent and playful invitation: "Do you want to play? Do you want to join the dance?" This playful invitation again joined my heart and being with the Existential dance. I was again in a silent prayer and oneness with life.”

“Ginny had named her supper club after the prominent mesquite tree that shaded the home's picturesque front garden. She adored these deciduous trees---native to Arizona---with their soft, ferny canopies that dotted the desert landscape. The species of velvet mesquite on her property routinely produced fragrant spikes of yellow flowers in April and sometimes again in August after it rained. The blossoms reminded Ginny of random bursts of sunshine. She hoped all who saw them took them as a good omen, just as she had upon discovering the house.”

“Europe lost many trees or their close relatives that today are only found native in the warm-temperate-subtropical ‘evergreen forests’ of south-eastern China or eastern North America (Combourieu-Nebout et al. 2015). These were largely replaced in Europe by trees of the temperate ‘mixed mesophytic forest’. Many taxa had already disappeared at the beginning of the Quaternary (e.g. Liquidambar, Meliosma, Pseudolarix false larch, Stewartia), while others survived longer (e.g. Liriodendron, Magnolia, Taxodium, Sequoia, Phellodendron cork tree, Tsuga, Carya) to vanish finally from Europe during the course of the early- or mid-Quaternary (Willis and McElwain 2014, Combourieu-Nebout et al. 2015, Birks and Tinner 2016).”

“Objects and Objectives To contemplate LEGO. Many colours. Many shapes. Many inventive and useful shapes. Plastic. A versatile and practical substance. Symbolic of the resourcefulness of man. Oil taken from the depths of the very earth. Distillation of said raw material. Chemical processes. Pollution. Creating a product providing hours of constructive play. For children all over the world. Teaching our young. Through enjoyment. Preparing them for further resourcefulness. The progress of our kind. A book. Many books. Proud liners of walls. Fingered. Taken out with great care. Held open. Gazed upon / into with something like awe. A medium for the recording of and communication of knowledge. From the many to the many. Down the ages. And of art. And of love. But do you hear the trees outside whispering? Do their voices haunt you? No wonder. They are calling for their brothers. Pulped. Pressed. Coated. Printed. Bound. And for their other brothers which made the shelves to hold them. And for the roof over them as well. From the very beginning - everything at cost. A cave man, to get food, had to deal with the killing. And the bones from one death proved very useful for implementing the death of another.”

“We need to live not just for ourselves, but for the whole humanity, for the trees, birds and all the living beings. Plastic pollution free living is the easiest way to make that successful.”

“In Green Grandeur by Stewart Stafford Under towers of green pillars, Grow those leafed palaces, Stretching out their tall limbs, Up skyward in thanksgiving. Saplings with peacock foliage, A forest floor carpeted thickly, With dead leaves, kindling and, Subterranean roots peeking out. Storm-crooked trunks stooping, To the lightning-shattered bows, Fingers of dying sunlight reach, To caress the ivy-entwined bark. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved”

“Jack walked me through the garden, naming plants and flowers with dizzying speed: blue spruce, hydrangea, and boxwood gave winter interest to the garden. Quaking aspen and Boston ivy grew along the fence. Pink Spike and Crimson Queen Japanese maple added colorful purple foliage along with First Love speedwell and panicled hydrangeas. "These plants are fighters," he said. "Even without any nurturing, they've managed to flourish. They do what it takes to survive.”

“Compared to northern woods, which Leeda had seen on a trip up the Hudson River Valley, the Georgia forest felt primeval. Northern trees seemed picturesque and petite to Leeda, their leaves small in soft, bright greens. Georgia forests were loaded with tall, drooping trees covered in kudzu and smothered in deep greens that seemed like they could swallow someone up. Leeda had never noticed it before.”

“That's my little piece of heaven. Go ahead." Ciro followed Remo through the open door to a small enclosed garden. Terra-cotta pots positioned along the top of the stone wall spilled over with red geraniums and orange impatiens. An elm tree with a wide trunk and deep roots filled the center of the garden. Its green leaves and thick branches reached past the roof of Remo's building, creating a canopy over the garden. There was a small white marble birdbath, gray with soot, flanked by two deep wicker armchairs. Remo fished a cigarette out of his pocket, offering another to Ciro as both men took a seat. "This is where I come to think." "Va bene," Ciro said as he looked up into the tree. He remembered the thousands of trees that blanketed the Alps; here on Mulberry Street, one tree with peeling gray bark and holes in its leaves was cause for celebration.”

“The nights again will be on fire, like this, - forever, I’ll look, without you, freshness for; beneath the eternal ancient Populus trees, and freshness I’ll find in the night, above all… And winter will come later, once more, again, when vile winds will howl right outside, being mean, yet there, in the heart, with no refrain, I will have softness, dreamlike, clean…”

“Real love ought to be more like a tree and less like a flower. That's the kind of love my parents had. Not so consuming and more everlasting. And you see that tree over there? Now it's only showing green leaves, but during the spring it's covered in flowers. Because as reliable as trees are, they can also speak of beauty and passion.”

“When trees are treated as a commodity, cutting them down is good for business. When people are a commodity, enslaving them, exploiting them and underpaying them is good for business. When everything is a commodity, the landscape grows barren, and the earth turns to dust.”

“My love, you are driving the entire world mad. The nightingales are committing suicide one by one out of jealousy of your voice. The roses took one glance at your beauty and folded themselves from shame. The trees now only whisper your name and the sky hasn’t stopped crying since you looked up. Have pity on us, my love. We have already broken all the mirrors and glass out of fear that you will forget us and fall in love with yourself once you see what we all cannot stop seeing.”

“A Rakshasi did not live here. A princess did. I was staring into the most dazzling garden I had ever seen. Cobblestone pathways meandered between rows of salmon-hued hibiscus, regal hollyhock, delicate impatiens, wild orchids, thorny rosebushes, and manicured shrubs starred with jasmine. Bunches of bougainvillea cascaded down the sides of the wall, draped across the stone like extravagant shawls. Magnolia trees, cotton-candy pink, were interspersed with coconut trees, which let in streaks of purplish light through their fanlike leaves. A rock-rimmed pond glistened in a corner of the garden, and lotus blossoms sprouting from green discs skimmed its surface. A snow white bird that looked like a peacock wove in and out through a grove of pomegranate trees, which were set aflame by clusters of deep orange blossoms. I had seen blue peacocks before, but never a white one. An Ashoka tree stood at one edge of the garden, as if on guard, near the door. A brief wind sent a cluster of red petals drifting down from its branches and settling on the ground at my feet. A flock of pale blue butterflies emerged from a bed of golden trumpet flowers and sailed up into the sky. In the center of this scene was a peach stucco cottage with green shutters and a thatched roof, quaint and idyllic as a dollhouse. A heavenly perfume drifted over the wall, intoxicating me- I wanted nothing more than to enter.”

“All the trees of the world appeared to be rushing towards Aslan. But as they drew nearer they looked less like trees, and when the whole crowd, bowing and curtsying and waving thin long arms to Aslan, were all around Lucy, she saw that it was a crowd of human shapes. Pale birch-girls were tossing their heads, willow-women pushed back their hair from their brooding faces to gaze on Aslan, the queenly beeches stood still and adored him, shaggy oak-men, lean and melancholy elms, shock-headed hollies (dark themselves, but their wives all bright with berries) and gay rowans, all bowed and rose again, shouting, "Aslan, Aslan!" in their various husky or creaking or wave-like voices.”

“Lucy's eyes began to grow accustomed to the light, and she saw the trees that were nearest her more distinctly. A great longing for the old days when the trees could talk in Narnia came over her. She knew exactly how each of these trees would talk if only she could wake them, and what sort of human form it would put on. She looked at a silver birch; it would have a soft, showery voice and would look like a slender girl, with hair blown all about her face, and fond of dancing. She looked at the oak: he would be a wizened, but hearty old man with a frizzled beard and warts on his face and hands, and hair growing out of the warts. She looked at the beech under which she was standing. Ah!- she would be the best of all. She would be a precious goddess, smooth and stately, the lady of the wood.”

“Smart cities do not mean creating jungles of concretes or sophisticated cities of glasses with HiFi technologies. But a smart city means a city, where humans, trees, birds and other animals can grow with all their glories, imperfections, freedom and creativity.”

“Stand back. Forget what you read on the Internet. Attend to the tree before you. Observe the growth pattern of the tree. In Pruning, as in any good design, negative space plays an important role. Well-Pruned trees have an airy quality. Yuki Nara of the website Way of Maple says that a bird can fly through a well pruned Japanese maple- good standard for a fruit tree, too.”

“Meşe palamutlarım var isterseniz" dedi ağaç, yardım etmek istercesine. Nemli sessizlikte öylece oturdular bir an için. "Rincewind, ağaç dedi ki-" "Ağaçlar konuşamaz," diye kestirip attı Rincewind. "Bunu hatırlamak çok önemli." "Ama demin duydun-" Rincewind iç çekti. "Bak," dedi. "Basit biyoloji, tamam mı? Konuşmak için doğru donanıma sahip olmak gerek, tıpkı ciğerler, dudaklar ve-" "Ses telleri" dedi ağaç. "Evet, onlara." dedi Rincewind. Susup kasvetle yağmura baktı.”

“At times on the orchard, the leaves fluttered like locusts. At times they turned upside down and showed their white undersides in an almost embarrassing way. At times they turned orange and brown. And at times they kept spinning off the trees like whirligigs. Now they were perfectly, sublimely still, like an audience. Birdie moved her lips to Enrico’s and sighed into them, touching her forehead to his. From the trees, they looked like full-grown lovers.”