For nature gives to every time and season some beauties of its own; and from morning to night, as from the cradle to the grave, it is but a succession of changes so gentle and easy that we can scarcely mark their progress.
Interpretation
Nature's beauty is ever-present and evolves subtly over time.
This quote by Charles Dickens reflects the idea that nature consistently offers beauty throughout every time and season, highlighting the gentle and gradual changes that occur from dawn to dusk, and throughout our lives. It suggests that we often overlook these changes due to their subtlety, yet they form a continuous cycle of beauty that accompanies our existence.
In practice
In a speech about environmental conservation, one could mention this quote to emphasize the beauty of nature.
I recollected one story there was in the village, how that on a certain night in the year (it might be that very night for anything I knew), all the dead people came out of the ground and sat at the heads of their own graves till morning.
A silent look of affection and regard when all other eyes are turned coldly away-the consciousness that we possess the sympathy and affection of one being when all others have deserted us-is a hold, a stay, a comfort, in the deepest affliction, which no wealth could purchase, or power bestow.
Heaven knows we need never be ashamed of our tears, for they are rain upon the blinding dust of earth, overlying our hard hearts. I was better after I had cried, than before--more sorry, more aware of my own ingratitude, more gentle.
There are not a few among the disciples of charity who require, in their vocation, scarcely less excitement than the votaries of pleasure in theirs.
You might, from your appearance, be the wife of Lucifer,” said Miss Pross, in her breathing. “Nevertheless, you shall not get the better of me. I am an Englishwoman.
Christmas is a poor excuse every 25th of December to pick a man's pockets.
I listen to the summer symphony outside my window. Truthfully, it's not a symphony at all. There's no tune, no melody, only the same notes over and over. Chirps and tweets and trills and burples. It's as if the insect orchestra is forever tuning its instruments, forever waiting for the maestro to tap his baton and bring them to order. I, for one, hope the maestro never comes. I love the music mess of it.
I go to nature to be soothed and healed, and to have my senses put in order.
I love a sunburnt country, a land of sweeping plains,_x000D_ Of rugged mountain ranges, of droughts and flooding rains._x000D_ I love her far horizons, I love her jewel-sea,_x000D_ Her beauty and her terror - the wide brown land for me!
Prize the natural spaces and shorelines most of all, because once they're gone, with rare exceptions they're gone forever. In our bones we need the natural curves of hills, the scent of chapparal, the whisper of pines, the possibility of wildness. We require these patches of nature for our mental health and our spiritual resilience.
There is always something new out of Africa.
Praised be You, my Lord, through Sister Moon and the stars; in the heavens, you have made them bright, precious and fair.
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