Generations pass while some tree stands, and old families last not three oaks.
There is something nobly simple and pure in a taste for the cultivation of forest trees.
All the good music has already been written by people with wigs and stuff...Basically what people want to hear is: I love you, you love me, the leaves turn brown, they fell off the trees, the wind is blowing, it got cold, you went away, my heart broke, you came back, and my heart was okay...Modern music is people who can't think signing artists who can't write songs to make records for people who can't hear. Most people wouldn't know good music if it came up and bit them on the ass...If lyrics make people do things, how come we don't love each other?
Writing, for me, is a little like wood carving. You find the lump of tree (the big central theme that gets you started), and you start cutting the shape that you think you want it to be. But you find, if you do it right, that the wood has a grain of its own (characters develop and present new insights, concentrated thinking about the story opens new avenues). If you're sensible, you work with the grain and, if you come across a knot hole, you incorporate that into the design. This is not the same as 'making it up as you go along'; it's a very careful process of control.
Turn off your computer and go out of doors. Dig a large enough hole to transplant a mature apple tree. Nurture the tree, feed it, coddle it so that its fruit will be ample, bright and firm. Practice open-hand strikes against the rough bark of the trunk until it's time to harvest. Choose the champion of your apple crop, pluck it from the tree, and beat yourself about the face and tits with it until your mettle will suffice.
The bay-trees in our country are all withered, And meteors fright the fixèd stars of heaven. The pale-faced moon looks bloody on the earth, And lean-looked prophets whisper fearful change. Rich men look sad, and ruffians dance and leap; The one in fear to lose what they enjoy, The other to enjoy by rage and war. These signs forerun the death or fall of kings.
Until I was about 7, I thought books were just there, like trees. When I learned that people actually wrote them, I wanted to, too, because all children aspire to inhuman feats like flying. Most people grow up to realize they can't fly. Writers are people who don't grow up to realize they can't be God.
When I was very little, say five or six, I became aware of the fact that people wrote books. Before that, I thought that God wrote books. I thought a book was a manifestation of nature, like a tree.
Your past forms you, whether you like it or not. Each encounter and experience has its own effect, and you're shaped the way the wind shapes a mesquite tree on a plain.
Democracy is the eagle on the back of a dollar bill, with 13 arrows in one claw, 13 leaves on a branch, 13 tail feathers, and 13 stars over its head - this signifies that when the white man came to this country, it was bad luck for the Indians, bad luck for the trees, bad luck for the wildlife, and lights out for the American eagle.
If a fan comes up and it is a middle-aged lady, it is probably from 'Prime'; if it is a younger girl, it is probably from when I guest-starred on 'One Tree Hill.' And if it is, like, a skateboard kid or a hipster kid, I can tell they are 'How to Make It' fans.
I feel like - and maybe you're going to think I'm crazy for saying this - 'Vampire Diaries' has crazy fans, 'Pretty Little Liars' has crazy fans, but I swear to you, I have never met crazier fans than 'One Tree Hill"s.
'One Tree Hill' really had an impact on my life. It was the first time I left my house and my family in New York and went to a small town in North Carolina. It was the most incredible experience for me.
When I was a child, I was living in the housing projects of Philadelphia. I didn't even have a Christmas tree.
The vine that has grown old on an old tree falls with the ruin of that tree, and through that bad companionship must perish with it.
I started studying herbalism and edible plants that existed in the wild. And then I realized, "Okay, cool. I know how to make a fire with sticks and I know how to build a shelter, but I live 90 percent of my life in an urban environment, so these skills aren't really going to help me because there aren't trees that grow in Los Angeles that I can just take a branch and make fire out of, because that wood isn't conducive for that. So I started learning urban survival skills.
I would do Winnie the Pooh. We would live in the tree house. We would hunt for honey.
Not everyone who sells Christmas trees believes in Santa Claus.
In times that are dark and God seems far [away], I look for him in small ways - the innocent laughter of a child on an airplane, the way the rain falls down through tree branches, the aroma of honeysuckle as I ride my bike down the Natchez Trace, and through the love of friends who have carried me through the darkest times of my life.
Lemurs are extraordinarily leapers. I mean they are just really going from tree to tree and then if there is not a tree, they just come down to the ground very gracefully. But it is the music that makes them seem to be dancing. They are basically getting from one place to another and that's just natural for them. They are just natural acrobatic dancers, just the way they move. It's beautiful!
Heaven, in the production of things, is sure to be bountiful to them, according to their qualities. Hence the tree that is flourishing, it nourishes, while that which is ready to fall, it overthrows.
The methods by which men have met and conquered trouble, or been slain by it, are the same in every age. Some have floated on the sea, and trouble carried them on its surface as the sea carries cork. Some have sunk at once to the bottom as foundering ships sink. Some have run away from their own thoughts. Some have coiled themselves up into a stoical indifference. Some have braved the trouble, and defied it. Some have carried it as a tree does a wound, until by new wood it can overgrow and cover the old gash.
Never play tips from "insiders." They can't see the forest for the trees.
Three years ago, the white hope of the theatre. Today, a mug. That's New York for you. Puts you on a Christmas tree, and then - the alley.
When you walk 25-30 feet above ground, it is a miracle, because you are still in the city ... but you are flying above the city. You are in the middle of trees, and that is a moment of beauty.
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