Grass Quotes - Page 29

• Dame Fortune is a fickle gipsy, And always blind, and often tipsy; Sometimes for years and years together, She 'll bless you with the sunniest weather, Bestowing honour, pudding, pence, You can't imagine why or whence; Then in a moment Presto, pass! Your joys are withered like the grass

  Winthrop Mackworth Praed

  Years, Weather, Joy

  Winthrop Mackworth Praed (1852). “Lillian: And Other Poems”, p.64

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• When a storm comes, it is the trees that get uprooted. Be as humble as the grass and nothing can touch you.

  Sri Sri Ravi Shankar

  Humble, Tree, Storm

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• The gray-green stretch of sandy grass,Indefinitely desolate;A sea of lead, a sky of slate;Already autumn in the air, alas!One stark monotony of stone,The long hotel, acutely white,Against the after-sunset lightWithers gray-green, and takes the grass's tone.

  Arthur Symons

  Sunset, Autumn, Air

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• Let us keep a firm grip upon our money, for without it the whole assembly of virtues are but as blades of grass.

  Bhartrhari

  Money, Virtue, Blades

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• I have sat here happy in the gardens, Watching the still pool and the reeds And the dark clouds. . . . But though I greatly delight In these and the water lilies, That which sets me nighest to weeping Is the rose and white colour of the smooth flag-stones, And the pale yellow grasses Among them.

  Richard Aldington

  Happiness, Dark, Garden

  Richard Aldington (1928). “Collected poems”

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• This looks a good team on paper, let's see how it looks on grass.

  Nigel Melville

  Team, Looks, Paper

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• I must stay under the old tree in the midst of the long grass, the luxury of the leaves, and the song in the very air. It seems as if I could feel all the glowing life the sunshine gives and the south winds calls into being.

  Richard Jefferies

  Song, Healing, Sunshine

  Richard Jefferies (1884). “The Life of the Fields”

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• The contract stuff just happens to be a coincidence to me. I always play every game as if my back is against the wall. That's always something that has been good to me since high school. A lot of people believe the grass is greener on the other side, but I'm not one of those people. It wouldn't be my choice to leave, but the Seahawks know that.

  Shaun Alexander

  Wall, Believe, School

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• The warm green of the grass, sprinkled with flowers of many hues, is a carpet whereon we walk with noiseless tread.

  William Wendt

  Flower, Hue, Green

  John Alan Walker, William Wendt (1992). “Documents on the Life and Art of William Wendt, 1865-1946, California's Painter Laureate of the Paysage Moralisé”

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• Ruminants are a perfectly normal thing to possess when you live in upstate New York. It's just moving scenery. It's kind of like the equivalent of Great Danes. It's the way you keep your grass mowed. It's the way you keep your weed-whacking to a minimum.

  Vera Farmiga

  Weed, New York, Moving

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• I've seen couples that were having a hard times sexually try cannabis and have it just open their vibes until they were able to reestablish the thing that made them want to be together in the first place. They repaired their relationship with the increased communication grass brings. I've seen a fair amount of that.

  Stephen Gaskin

  Couple, Communication, Hard Times

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• My birthplace was California, but I couldn't forget Armenia, so what is one's country? Is it land of the earth, in a specific place? Rivers there? Lakes? The sky there? The way the moon comes up there? And the sun? Is one's country the trees, the vineyards, the grass, the birds, the rocks, the hills and summer and winter? Is it the animal rhythm of the living there? The huts and houses, the streets of cities, the tables and chairs, and the drinking of tea and talking? Is it the peach ripening in summer heat on the bough? Is it the dead in the earth there?

  William Saroyan

  Summer, Country, Drinking

  "Antranik and the Spirit of Armenia" by William Saroyan, 1936.

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• RITUALISM, n. A Dutch Garden of God where He may walk in rectilinear freedom, keeping off the grass.

  Ambrose Bierce

  Freedom, Garden, May

  Ambrose Bierce (2012). “The Devil's Dictionary”, p.109, Courier Corporation

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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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• My Mama Moved Among the Days My Mama moved among the days like a dreamwalker in a field; seemed like what she touched was here seemed like what touched her couldn't hold, she got us almost through the high grass then seemed like she turned around and ran right back in right back on in

  Lucille Clifton

  Dream, Fields, Mama

  Lucille Clifton, “My Mama Moved Among The Days”

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• Another day it occurred to me that time as we know it doesn't exist in a lawn, since grass never dies or is allowed to flower and set seed. Lawns are nature purged of sex or death. No wonder Americans like them so much.

  Michael Pollan

  Sex, Flower, Desire

  Michael Pollan (2007). “Second Nature: A Gardener's Education”, p.62, Grove/Atlantic, Inc.

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• Equality does not mean that all plants must grow to the same height - a society of tall grass and dwarf trees, a jostle of conflicting jealousies. It means, in civic terms, an equal outlet for all talents; in political terms, that all votes will carry the same weight; and in religious terms that all beliefs will enjoy equal rights.

  Victor Hugo

  Religious, Mean, Dwarves

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• For hours she had lain in a kind of gentle torpor, not unlike that sweet lassitude which masters one in the hush of a midsummer noon, when the heat seems to have silenced the very birds and insects, and, lying sunk in the tasselled meadow grasses, one looks up through a level roofing of maple-leaves at the vast, shadowless, and unsuggestive blue.

  Edith Wharton

  Sweet, Lying, Blue

  Edith Wharton (2001). “Early Short Fiction”, p.50, Electric Book Company

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• They hold their great balls in the open air, in what is called a fairy-ring. For weeks afterward you can see the ring on the grass. It is not there when they begin, but they make it by waltzing round and round. Sometimes you will find mushrooms inside the ring, and these are fairy chairs that the servants have forgotten to clear away. The chairs and the rings are the only tell-tale marks these little people leave behind them, and they would remove even these were they not so fond of dancing that they toe it till the very moment of the opening of the gates.

  James M. Barrie

  Air, Mushrooms, People

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• The dawn came - not the flaming sky that promises storm, but a golden dawn of infinite promise. The birds came flying up out of the east in wedge-shaped formation, and the mist lifted in soft wreaths of sun-shot silver. Colour came back to the world. The grass glowed with a green so vivid that it seemed pulsing, like flame, from some hidden fire in the earth, the distant woods took on all the amazing deep crimsons and purples of their winter colouring, the banks were studded with their jewels of lichens and bright moss, and above the wet hedges shone with sun-shot orbs of light.

  Elizabeth Goudge

  Winter, Fire, Light

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• As often as not our whole self...engages itself in the most trivial of things, the shape of a particular hill, a road in the town in which we lived as children, the movement of wind in grass. The things we shall take with us when we die will nearly all be small things.

  Storm Jameson

  Life, Children, Self

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• The virtues of a superior man are like the wind; the virtues of a common man are like the grass; the grass, when the wind passes over it, bends.

  Henry David Thoreau

  Men, Wind, Common

  Henry David Thoreau (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Henry David Thoreau (Illustrated)”, p.412, Delphi Classics

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• Mr. Jamrach led me through the lobby and into the menagerie. The first was a parrot room, a fearsome screaming place of mad round eyes, crimson breasts that beat against bars, wings that flapped against their neighbours, blood red, royal blue, gypsy yellow, grass green. The birds were crammed along perches. Macaws hung upside down here and there, batting their white eyes, and small green parrots flittered above our heads in drifts. A hot of cockatoos looked down from on high over the shrill madness, high crested, creamy breasted. The screeching was like laughter in hell.

  Carol Birch

  Laughter, Eye, Yellow

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• I remember just lying in the grass, staring at the clouds, wondering where they drifted off to after they floated over Texas.

  Renee Zellweger

  Lying, Clouds, Texas

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• Once I spent a whole day there, a blade of grass in each hand to anchor me to the warm earth. I watched the sun rise, pass over my head and set. Ladybirds mated on my knuckle; a shrew nibbled a hole in my stocking while I tried not to laugh. Such a day was worth any punishment.

  Emma Donoghue

  Hands, Anchors, Punishment

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