Two such as you with such a master speed, cannot be parted nor be swept away, from one another once you are agreed, that life is only life forevermore, together wing to wing and oar to oar.
Robert FrostRead
I wonder about the trees._x000D_ _x000D_ Why do we wish to bear_x000D_ _x000D_ Forever the noise of these_x000D_ _x000D_ More than another noise_x000D_ _x000D_ So close to our dwelling place?
Interpretation
This quote reflects on the connection between humans and nature, contemplating the reasons behind our attachment to natural sounds over others.
In this quote, Robert Frost expresses a sense of wonder regarding the presence of trees and the sounds they produce, questioning why humans are drawn to the natural world's noise. It suggests a deeper relationship between people and nature, emphasizing that the familiar sounds of trees are valued and perhaps signify comfort or belonging in contrast to the clamor of modern life.
In practice
In a speech about environmental conservation, one might use this quote to highlight the importance of preserving natural soundscapes.
Two such as you with such a master speed, cannot be parted nor be swept away, from one another once you are agreed, that life is only life forevermore, together wing to wing and oar to oar.
You have freedom when you're easy in your harness.
God made a beauteous garden With lovely flowers strown, But one straight, narrow pathway That was not overgrown. And to this beauteous garden He brought mankind to live, And said "To you, my children, These lovely flowers I give. Prune ye my vines and fig trees, With care my flowers tend, But keep the pathway open Your home is at the end." God's Garden
'Warm in December, cold in June, you say?' _x000D_ _x000D_ I don't suppose the water's changed at all. _x000D_ _x000D_ You and I know enough to know it's warm _x000D_ _x000D_ Compared with cold, and cold compared with warm. _x000D_ _x000D_ But all the fun's in how you say a thing.
For, dear me, why abandon a belief, Merely because it ceases to be true, Cling to it long enough, and not a doubt, It will turn true again, for so it goes.
The question that he frames in all but words is what to make of a diminished thing.
Garden making, like gardening itself, concerns the relationship of the human being to his natural surroundings.
On the mainland, a rain was falling. The famous Seattle rain. The thin, gray rain that toadstools love. The persistent rain that knows every hidden entrance into collar and shopping bag. The quiet rain that can rust a tin roof without the tin roof making a sound in protest. The shamanic rain that feeds the imagination. The rain that seems actually a secret language, whispering, like the ecstasy of primitives, of the essence of things.
Among the scenes which are deeply impressed on my mind, none exceed in sublimity the primeval [tropical] forests, ... temples filled with the varied productions of the God of Nature. No one can stand in these solitudes unmoved, and not feel that there is more in man than the mere breath of his body.
There, by the starlit fences The wanderer halts and hears My soul that lingers sighing About the glimmering weirs.
Birding, after all, is just a game. Going beyond that is what is important.
Here is a little forest Whose leaf is ever green; Here is a brighter garden, Where not a frost has been; In its unfading flowers I hear the bright bee hum; Prithee, my brother, Into my garden come!
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