I think we are bound to, and by, nature. We may want to deny this connection and try to believe we control the external world, but every time there's a snowstorm or drought, we know our fate is tied to the world around us
Alice HoffmanRead
The grass he walked through was new and a sweet smell clung to his clothes. There was blue dye on his hands from the wild irises... that the color of the sky was a shade that could never be replicated in any photograph, just as Heaven could never be seen from the confines of Earth.
Interpretation
This quote reflects the beauty of nature and the unique experiences that cannot be captured or replicated.
Alice Hoffman's quote emphasizes the extraordinary and ephemeral qualities of nature, illustrating how the beauty experienced in the moment can never truly be captured by photographs or replicated. It evokes a sense of wonder at the unique and fleeting experiences that life offers, suggesting that some things, like glimpses of Heaven, are beyond our earthly limitations.
In practice
At a nature retreat, one could use this quote to highlight the uniqueness of the experience.
I think we are bound to, and by, nature. We may want to deny this connection and try to believe we control the external world, but every time there's a snowstorm or drought, we know our fate is tied to the world around us
Before she realized he was next to her, he had placed his hands over hers on the countertop, then hooped his fingers through hers. Gretel looked up at him, so startled she might as well have been shot. 'I just wanted to wake you up', he said. Which is exactly what he did. One look at him and her heart was racing. One look, and whatever had been before was all over.
Do people choose the art that inspires them β do they think it over, decide they might prefer the fabulous to the real? For me, it was those early readings of fairy tales that made me who I was as a reader and, later on, as a storyteller.
I never plot out my novels in terms of the tone of the book. Hopefully, once a story is begun it reveals itself
My theory is that everyone at one time or another has been at the fringe of society in some way: an outcast in high school, a stranger in a foreign country, the best at something, the worst at something, the one who's different. Being an outsider is the one thing we all have in common.
My grandmother told me once that when you lose somebody you think you've lost the whole world as well, but that's not the way things turn out in the end. Eventually, you pick yourself up and look out the window, and once you do you see everything that was there before the world ended is out there still. There are the same apple trees and the same songbirds, and over our heads, the very same sky that shines like heaven, so far above us we can never hope to reach such heights.
The public must learn how to cherish the nobler and rarer plants, and to plant the aloe, able to wait a hundred years for it's bloom, or it's garden will contain, presently, nothing but potatoes and pot-herbs.
Gardening is inevitably a process of constant, remorseless change. It is the constancy of that process that is so comforting, not any fixed moment.
I want to get out in the water. I want to see fish, real fish, not fish in a laboratory.
Us sing and dance, make faces and give flower bouquets, trying to be loved. You ever notice that trees do everything to git attention we do, except walk?
If I had to choose, I would rather have birds than airplanes.
Sprigs of plum by the corner of the wall_x000D_ _x000D_ Are blooming alone in the cold;_x000D_ _x000D_ If not for the subtle fragrance drifting over_x000D_ _x000D_ Who could tell this from snow on the boughs.
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