I believe that music should be grown on trees, to be plucked like a fruit without the extravagance of harvest.
Everything is important. To the smallest insect, even the mouldering tree, the deepest stone in the drift.
My music teacher offered twittering madrigals and something about how, in Italy, in Italy, the oranges hang on the tree. He treated me - the humiliation of it - as a soprano.These, by contrast, are the six elements of a Sacred Harp alto: rage, darkness, motherhood, earth, malice, and sex. Once you feel it, you can always do it. You know where to go for it, though it will cost you.
Please, shun darkness, and like trees, always seek to grow toward the light.
Something looks back from the trees, and knows me for who I am.
Holiday and Holy Day, Christmas is more than a yule log, holly or tree. It is more than natural good cheer and the giving of gifts. Christmas is even more than the feast of the home and of children, the feast of love and friendship. It is more than all of these together. Christmas is Christ, the Christ of justice and charity, of freedom and peace.
No man, I suspect, ever lived long in the country without being bitten by these meteorological ambitions. He likes to be hotter and colder, to have been more deeply snowed up, to have more trees and larger blown down than his neighbors.
A street without trees is a street only for the sick-minded people whose god is nothing but money!
A man who sits under a tree and dreams makes more journey than a man who goes around the world without dreaming!
A person who loves and kisses a tree is a normal person; a person who hates and cuts a tree is an abnormal person.
Bible says the tree is known by his fruit. We can also say that the great man is known by his undreamed dreams!
By respecting the trees, you prove that you are a person who deserves to be respected!
Every tree is an angel!
For an apple you can't reach up and pick, you have to climb that tree; the tree won't bend down for you!
A book collection is a cross between a Rorschach test and This Is Y our Life. It marks your life clearly like rings on a tree.
We should, can and most of the time do communicate with God directly. To my knowledge, angels are not necessary for anything. But God's creation is abundant, and asking "Why angels?" would be like asking why there are thousands of varieties of trees or stars, when we could get along with so much less. God Himself told us many times that He was sending angels to love and care for us, so He is the one who brought them into our lives. Therefore, even if we don't understand their entire purpose, I vote that we pay attention to them.
I'm kind of a walking photographer, i love exploring new places. One day I was taking a break during an excursion in the Broceliande forest, looking for the best place to settle, when I discovered a small clearing with a tree without leaves. I stayed for hours looking around, taking some pictures and I found Le Coq lying down under the tree. The tree's branches were rising as if to touch the sky.
Each tree has its own personality, i chose them by the way I felt at the moment. Sometimes they even change my sentiments. It's kind of a spiritual experience.
I love touring in the United States. It's dramatically different wherever you go. North to south you're going from snow to palm trees.
This is the blood's wild tree that grows the intricate and folded rose
Where the citizen uses a mere sliver or board, the pioneer uses the whole trunk of a tree.
The mode of clearing and planting is to fell the trees, and burn once what will burn, then cut them up into suitable lengths, rollinto heaps, and burn again; then, with a hoe, plant potatoes where you can come at the ground between the stumps and charred logs; for a first crop the ashes suffice for manure, and no hoeing being necessary the first year. In the fall, cut, roll, and burn again, and so on, till the land is cleared; and soon it is ready for grain, and to be laid down.
I should have liked to come across a large community of pines, which had never been invaded by the lumbering army.
On the way I stood a moment looking out across the marshes with tall cattails, a patch of water, more marsh, then the woods with a few birch trees shining white at the edge on beyond. In the darkness it all looked just like I felt. Wet and swampy and gloomy, very gloomy. In the morning I painted it. My memory of it is that it was probably my best painting that summer.
The clean clear colours were in my head. But one day as I looked at the brown burned wood of the Shanty, I thought 'I can paint one of those dismal-coloured paintings like the men. I think just for fun I will try - all low-toned and dreary with the tree besides the door.' In my next show, 'The Shanty' went up. The men seemed to approve of it. They seemed to think that maybe I was beginning to paint. That was my only low-toned dismal-coloured painting.
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