Grass Quotes - Page 38

• Morning: Slept. Afternoon: Slept. Evening: Ate grass. Night: Ate grass. Decided grass is boring. Scratched. Hard to reach the itchy bits. Slept.

  Jackie French

  Morning, Night, Afternoon

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• The god of dirt came up to me many times and said so many wise and delectable things, I lay on the grass listening to his dog voice, frog voice; now, he said, and now, and never once mentioned forever from, One or Two Things

  Mary Oliver

  Wise, Dog, Two

  Mary Oliver (2014). “Dream Work”, p.37, Grove/Atlantic, Inc.

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• Human: That's stupid. Isn't there grass on both sides?

  Orson Scott Card

  Stupid, Sides, Humans

  Orson Scott Card (2013). “The Ender Quintet”, p.424, Macmillan

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• Perhaps his gloom was due to his profession, that he lived among fallen empires, and in reading these languages that had not been spoken by the common man in centuries, he had all about him the ruin of language, evidence of toppled suburbs, grass growing among the mosaics, and voices that had been choked with poison, iron, age, or ash.

  Matthew Tobin Anderson

  Reading, Men, Voice

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• Through neglect, ignorance, or inability, the new intellectual Borgias cram hairballs down our throats and refuse us the convulsion that could make us well. They have forgotten, if they ever knew, the ancient knowledge that only by being truly sick can one regain health. Even beasts know when it is good and proper to throw up. Teach me how to be sick then, in the right time and place, so that I may again walk in the fields and with the wise and smiling dogs know enough to chew sweet grass.

  Ray Bradbury

  Wise, Dog, Sweet

  Ray Bradbury (1991). “On stage: a chrestomathy of his plays”, Plume

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• Loafe with me on the grass—loose the stop from your throat; Not words, not music or rhyme I want—not custom or lecture, not even the best; Only the lull I like, the hum of your valved voice.

  Walt Whitman

  Voice, Want, Lectures

  Walt Whitman, Sculley Bradley, Harold W. Blodgett (2008). “Leaves of Grass: A Textual Variorum of the Printed Poems, 1855-1856”, p.5, NYU Press

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• The spring has sprung, the grass is rizz. I wonder where them birdies is?

  A. A. Milne

  Spring, Wonder, Sprung

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• After a few mouthfuls of moon-flavored air, even the stubbornly drowsy can find themselves wide-eyed.. All the normal noises of life were gone, leaving behind the secretive sounds, the shy sounds, the whispers and conversations of moss disputing with grass over some soft piece of earth, or the hummingbird snoring.

  N.D. Wilson

  Moon, Air, Leaving

  N. D. Wilson (2008). “Leepike Ridge”, p.17, Random House Books for Young Readers

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• The world is holy. We are holy. All life is holy. Daily prayers are delivered on the lips of breaking waves, the whisperings of grasses, the shimmering of leaves.

  Terry Tempest Williams

  Prayer, Whispering, World

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• (Speaking of the Cistercian monks) A grim fraternity, passing grim lives in that sweet spot, that God had made so bright! Strange that Nature's voices all around them--the soft singing of the waters, the wisperings of the river grass, the music of the rushing wind--should not have taught them a truer meaning of life than this. They listened there, through the long days, in silence, waiting for a voice from heaven; and all day long and through the solemn night it spoke to them in myriad tones, and they heard it not.

  Jerome K. Jerome

  Sweet, Night, Wind

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• The same wind that uproots trees makes the grass shine. The lordly wind loves the weakness and the lowness of grasses. Never brag of being strong. The axe doesn't worry how thick the branches are. It cuts them to pieces. But not the leaves. It leaves the leaves alone.

  Rumi

  Strong, Cutting, Wind

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• Even if it means oblivion, friends, I'll welcome it, because it won't be nothing. We'll be alive again in a thousand blades of grass, and a million leaves; we'll be falling in the raindrops and blowing in the fresh breeze; we'll be glittering in the dew under the stars and the moon out there in the physical world, which is our true home and always was.

  Philip Pullman

  Stars, Fall, Home

  Philip Pullman (2007). “The Amber Spyglass”, Knopf Books for Young Readers

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• But isn't the knowledge that comes from experience more valuable than the knowledge that doesn't? It seems fairly obvious to some of us that a lot of scholars need to go outside and sniff around - walk through the grass, talk to the animals. That sort of thing.

  Benjamin Hoff

  Animal, Needs, Tao Of Pooh

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• Clambering up the Cold Mountain path, The Cold Mountain trail goes on and on: The long gorge choked with scree and boulders, The wide creek, the mist-blurred grass. The moss is slippery, though there's been no rain The pine sings, but there's no wind. Who can leap the world's ties And sit with me among the white clouds?

  Gary Snyder

  Rain, Clouds, Wind

  Gary Snyder (2010). “Riprap and Cold Mountain Poems”, p.46, Counterpoint Press

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• We were going to the long field which today looked like an ocean, although I had never seen an ocean; the grass was moving in the breeze and the cloud shadows passed back and forth and the trees in the distance moved.

  Shirley Jackson

  Distance, Ocean, Moving

  Shirley Jackson (2010). “Novels and Stories: The Lottery, The Haunting of Hill House, We Have Always Lived in the Castle, Other Stories and Sketches”

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• I lingered round them, under that benign sky; watched the moths fluttering among the heath and hare-bells; listened to the soft wind breathing through the grass; and wondered how anyone could ever imagine unquiet slumbers for the sleepers in that quiet earth.

  Emily Bronte

  Wind, Sky, Breathing

  Wuthering Heights ch. 34 (1847)

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• Flailing and thrashing, Buttercup wept and tossed and paced and wept some more, and there have been three great cases of jealousy since David of Galilee was first afflicted with the emotion when he could no longer stand the fact that his neighbor Saul's cactus outshone his own. (Originally, jealousy pertained solely to plants, other people's cactus or ginkgoes, or, later, when there was grass, grass, which is why, even to this day, we say that someone is green with jealousy.) Buttercup's case rated a close fourth on the all-time list. It was a very long and very green night.

  William Goldman

  Night, Long, People

  William Goldman (2013). “The Princess Bride: An Illustrated Edition of S. Morgenstern's Classic Tale of True Love and High Adventure”, p.53, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

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• When I am dead, my dearest, Sing no sad songs for me; Plant thou no roses at my head, Nor shady cypress tree: Be the green grass above me With showers and dewdrops wet: And if thou wilt, remember, And if thou wilt, forget. I shall not see the shadows, I shall not feel the rain; I shall not hear the nightingale Sing on as if in pain: And dreaming through the twilight That doth not rise nor set, Haply I may remember, And haply I may forget.

  Christina Rossetti

  Dream, Song, Pain

  "When I am dead, my dearest" l. 1 (1862)

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• Still, I look down, and the grass is so green, I cannot understand how it does not wither and die with sorrow. ~Song of the Sparrow

  Lisa Ann Sandell

  Sorrow, Doe, Looks

  Lisa Ann Sandell (2008). “Song of the Sparrow”, p.14, Scholastic Inc.

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• Still, I look down, and the grass is so green, I cannot understand how it does not wither and die with sorrow. But against the emerald carpet, the warriors make war, and it is like a dance, almost beautiful, always macabre. The noise brings me back, the fearsome noise of swords striking swords, a metallic clanging that rings in my ears, echoing and echoing the fearsome din of men screaming and crying as they meet the sharp ends of blades.

  Lisa Ann Sandell

  Beautiful, War, Men

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• But carbon 13 [the carbon from corn] doesn't lie, and researchers who have compared the isotopes in the flesh or hair of Americans to those in the same tissues of Mexicans report that it is now we in the North who are the true people of corn.... Compared to us, Mexicans today consume a far more varied carbon diet: the animals they eat still eat grass (until recently, Mexicans regarded feeding corn to livestock as a sacrilege); much of their protein comes from legumes; and they still sweeten their beverages with cane sugar. So that's us: processed corn, walking.

  Michael Pollan

  Lying, Animal, Hair

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• I'll wager at the end a body realizes the Lord has already shown Himself. That things as they are -- her hand circles in a gesture that gathers clouds and kites and grass and Queenie pawing earth over her bone - just what they've always seen, was seeing Him. As for me, I could leave the world with today in my eyes.

  Truman Capote

  Eye, Hands, Circles

  Truman Capote (2012). “A Christmas Memory”, p.25, Modern Library

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• It was an overcast late November morning, the grass splintered by hoarfrost, and winter grinning through the gaps in the clouds like a bad clown peering through the curtains before the show begins.

  John Connolly

  Morning, Winter, Clouds

  John Connolly (2012). “The John Connolly Collection #2: The White Road, The Black Angel, and The Unquiet”, p.899, Simon and Schuster

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• Strong winds buffet the sea oats and tall dune grasses, tossing sand and seabirds where it will, winding my sister's golden hair into sunlit spirals of silk until it becomes the only good memory I have of her -- the only memory I allowed myself to keep.

  Karen White

  Strong, Memories, Hair

  Karen White (2008). “The Memory of Water”, p.11, Penguin

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• And he gave it for his opinion, "that whoever could make two ears of corn, or two blades of grass, to grow upon a spot of ground where only one grew before, would deserve better of mankind, and do more essential service to his country, than the whole race of politicians put together.

  Jonathan Swift

  Country, Agriculture, Race

  Gulliver's Travels "A Voyage to Brobdingnag" ch. 7 (1726)

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