Meadows Quotes - Page 11

• I saw a poet chase a butterfly in a meadow. He put his net on a bench where a boy sat reading a book. It's a misfortune that it is usually the other way round.

  Karl Kraus

  Book, Reading, Butterfly

  Karl Kraus (1976). “Half-truths & one-and-a-half truths: selected aphorisms”

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• He loves the world so much. I agree it would be a shame to take that love away from meadow and tree, stream and sky, and all that lives in nature, and leave them lonely.

  Janet Morris

  Love, Lonely, Sky

  Janet Morris, Chris Morris (2010). “The Sacred Band”, p.311, Paradise Publishing

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• O world, world when I was younger I thought there was some order governing you and your deeds. But now you seem to be a labyrinth of errors, a frightful desert, a den of wild beasts, a game in which men move in circles…a stony field, a meadow full of serpents, a flowering but barren orchard, a spring of cares, a river of tears, a sea of suffering, a vain hope.

  Fernando de Rojas

  Spring, Moving, Men

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• The heart's seasons seldom coincide with the calendar. Who among us has not been made desolate beyond all words upon some golden day when the little creatures of the air and meadow were life incarnate, from sheer joy of living? Who among us has not come home, singing, when the streets were almost impassable with snow, or met a friend with a happy, smiling face, in the midst of a pouring rain?

  Myrtle Reed

  Rain, Home, Heart

  Myrtle Reed (1909). “Old Rose and Silver”

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• Understand, I'll slip quietly away from the noisy crowd when I see the pale stars rising, blooming, over the oaks. I'll pursue solitary pathways through the pale twilit meadows with only this one dream: You come too.

  Rainer Maria Rilke

  Dream, Stars, Reading

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• The peoples are not awake...[There are dangers] which will render a world organization impossible.
  I foresee the renewal of...the secret bargaining behind closed doors. Peoples will be as before,
  the sheep sent to the slaughterhouses or to the meadows as it pleases the shepherds.
  International institutions ought to be, as the national ones in democratic countries,
  established by the peoples and for the peoples.

  Henri La Fontaine

  Country, Sheep, Doors

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• If we had better hearing, and could discern the descants of sea birds, the rhythmic tympani of schools of mollusks, or even the distant harmonics of midges hanging over meadows in the sun, the combined sound might lift us off our feet.

  Lewis Thomas

  School, Sea, Feet

  Lewis Thomas (1990). “A Long Line of Cells Collected Essays”

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• There are people who may be trusted, men as well as women. There are are as many difference in their natures as there are flowers in these meadows.

  Elizabeth Aston

  Flower, Men, Differences

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• Elena had always felt like the center of her own world - who doesn't? The world arranged itself around her like petals around the stem of a flower. This way the meadows, that way the woodland. Over here, the baryn's estate, out there, the hills that hug the known world close and imply a world at beyond. She could never come up with the edge of a world, because it always kept going on beyond. She moved the center of the world as she walked. The world was balanced on her head.

  Gregory Maguire

  Life, Flower, Hug

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• My Lebanon is a flock of birds fluttering in the early morning as shepherds lead their sheep into the meadow & rising in the evening as farmers return from their fields and vineyards.You have your Lebanon and its people. I have my Lebanon and its people.

  Khalil Gibran

  Morning, Sheep, People

  Khalil Gibran “Selected Short Works of Khalil Gibran”, Library of Alexandria

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• Whether the flower looks better in the nosegay than in the meadow where it grew and we had to wet our feet to get it! Is the scholastic air any advantage?

  Henry David Thoreau

  Flower, Air, Editing

  Henry David Thoreau, Odell Shepard (1961). “The Heart of Thoreau's Journals”, p.75, Courier Corporation

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• Let beeves and home-bred kine partake The sweets of Burn-mill meadow; The swan on still St. Mary's Lake Float double, swan and shadow!

  William Wordsworth

  Sweet, Home, Lakes

  1803 'Yarrow Unvisited', stanzas 6-7 (published 1807).

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• The thrill of tramping alone and unafraid through a wilderness of lakes, creeks, alpine meadows, and glaciers is not known to many. A civilization can be built around the machine but it is doubtful that a meaningful life can be produced by it.... When man worships at the feet of avalas creations. When he feels the wind blowing through him on a high peak or sleeps under a closely matted white bark pine in an exposed basin, he is apt to find his relationship to the universe.

  William O. Douglas

  Meaningful, Sleep, Journey

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• Yet, even for us, there is left some loveliness of environment, and the dullness of tutors and professors matters very little when one can loiter in the grey cloisters at Magdalen, and listen to some flute-like voice singing in Waynfleete's chapel, or lie in the green meadow, among the strange snakespotted fritillaries, and watch the sunburnt noon smite to a finer gold the tower's gilded vanes, or wander up the Christ Church staircase beneath the vaulted ceiling's shadowy fans, or pass through the sculptured gateway of Laud's building in the College of St. John.

  Oscar Wilde

  Lying, College, Oxford

  Oscar Wilde (1999). “De Profundis: The Ballad of Reading Gaol and Other Writings”, p.231, Wordsworth Editions

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• From its fountains In the mountains, Its rills and its gills; Through moss and through brake, It runs and it creeps For awhile till it sleeps In its own little Lake. And thence at departing, Awakening and starting, It runs through the reeds And away it proceeds, Through meadow and glade, In sun and in shade, And through the wood-shelter, Among crags in its flurry, Helter-skelter, Hurry-scurry.

  Robert Southey

  Running, Sleep, Lakes

  Robert Southey (1866). “The Poetical Works of Robert Southey: Complete in One Volume”, p.164

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• Full many a glorious morn I have seen Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye, Kissing with golden face the meadows green, Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy.

  William Shakespeare

  Eye, Kissing, Light

  Sonnet 33

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• Candleford Green was but a small village and there were fields and meadows and woods all around it. As soon as Laura crossed the doorstep, she could see some of these. But mere seeing from a distance did not satisfy her; she longed to go alone far into the fields and hear the birds singing, the brooks tinkling, and the wind rustling through the corn, as she had when a child. To smell things and touch things, warm earth and flowers and grasses, and to stand and gaze where no one could see her, drinking it all in.

  Flora Thompson

  Children, Distance, Drinking

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• It's more eerie to be alone in a city that's lit up and functioning than one that's a tomb. If everything were silent, one could almost pretend to be in nature. A forest. A meadow. Crickets and birdsong. But the corpse of civilization is as restless as the creatures that now roam the graveyards.

  Isaac Marion

  Eerie, Civilization, Cities

  Isaac Marion (2013). “The New Hunger (The Warm Bodies Series): The Prequel to Warm Bodies”, p.22, Random House

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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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• She told them simply and directly that the meadow was a place of peace and beauty, where indeed if one came to it in a quiet manner, the animals would not be disturbed; for there are lovely birds, and squirrels and field mice, and sometimes deer.

  Kathryn Lasky

  Animal, Squirrels, Bird

  Kathryn Lasky (2013). “The Royal Diaries: Marie Antoinette: Princess of Versailles, Austria-France, 1769”, p.138, Scholastic Inc.

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• You know, a landscape painter's day is delightful. You get up early, at three o'clock in the morning, before sunrise; you go and sit under a tree; you watch and wait. At first there is nothing much to be seen. Nature looks like a whitish canvas with a few broad outlines faintly sketched in; all is misty, everything quivers in the cool dawn breeze. The sky lights up. The sun has not yet burst through the gauze veil that hides the meadow, the little valley, the hill on the horizon... Ah, a first ray of sunshine!

  Jean-Baptiste Camille Corot

  Morning, Art, Sunshine

  "Letters of the great artists - from Blake to Pollock". Book by Richard Friedenthal, 1963.

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• Give me the old familiar walk, postoffice and all, with this ever new self, with this infinite expectation and faith, which does not know when it is beaten. We'll go nutting once more. We'll pluck the nut of the world, and crack it in the winter evenings. Theaters and all other sightseeing are puppet-shows in comparison. I will take another walk to the Cliff, another row on the river, another skate on the meadow, be out in the first snow, and associate with the winter birds. Here I am at home. In the bare and bleached crust of the earth I recognize my friend.

  Henry David Thoreau

  Travel, Home, Winter

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• Villages and woods, meadows and chateaux, pass across the moving scene, out of which the whistling of locomotives throws sharp notes. These faint, piercing sounds, together with the yelping and barking of dogs, are the only noises that reach one through the depths of the upper air. The human voice cannot mount up into these boundless solitudes. Human beings look like ants along the white lines that are highways; and the rows of houses look like children's playthings.

  Alberto Santos-Dumont

  Dog, Children, Moving

  Alberto Santos-Dumont, (2013). “My Air-Ships”, p.24, Read Books Ltd

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• There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,
  The earth, and every common sight,
  To me did seem
  Apparelled in celestial light,
  The glory and the freshness of a dream.

  William Wordsworth

  Dream, Light, Sight

  "Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood" l. 1 (1807)

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• Provide of thine own, to have all things at hand;
  Less work and the workman, unoccupied, stand.
  Make dry over-head both hovel and shack.
  Wash sheep (for the better) where water doth run;
  Let him go cleanly, and dry in the sun.
  Thy houses and and barns would be looked upon;
  And all things a[...]ed, ere harvest come on.
  At midsummer, down with the brambles and brakes;
  And after, abroad, with thy forks and thy rakes;
  Set movers a mowing, where meadow is grown;
  The longer now standing, the worse to be mown.

  Thomas Tusser

  Running, Hands, June

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