Who has seen the wind? Neither you nor I but when the trees bow down their heads, the wind is passing by.
Interpretation
We cannot see the wind itself, but we can observe its effects on nature.
This quote by Christina Rossetti captures the idea that some things in life are invisible yet profoundly impactful. Just as we cannot see the wind, we may not always be able to perceive emotions, thoughts, or forces at work, but their presence is often evident through the effects they produce, such as the trees bending in response to the wind.
In practice
This quote could be shared in a nature documentary to emphasize the unseen forces at work in the environment.
When I am dead, my dearest, Sing no sad songs for me; Plant thou no roses at my head, Nor shady cypress tree: Be the green grass above me With showers and dewdrops wet: And if thou wilt, remember, And if thou wilt, forget. I shall not see the shadows, I shall not feel the rain; I shall not hear the nightingale Sing on as if in pain: And dreaming through the twilight That doth not rise nor set, Haply I may remember, And haply I may forget.
We must not look at goblin men, We must not buy their fruits: Who knows upon what soil they fed Their hungry thirsty roots?
To her whose heart is my heart's quiet home,_x000D_ _x000D_ To my first Love, my Mother, on whose knee_x000D_ _x000D_ I learnt love-lore that is not troublesome.
Yet come to me in dreams, that I may live My very life again though cold in death; Come back to me in dreams, that I may give Pulse for pulse, breath for breath: Speak low, lean low, As long ago, my love, how long ago
Lie still, lie still, my breaking heart; My silent heart, lie still and break: Life, and the world, and mine own self, are changed For a dream's sake.
I lock my door upon myself, And bar them out; but who shall wall Self from myself, most loathed of all?
It is written on the arched sky; it looks out from every star. It is the poetry of Nature; it is that which uplifts the spirit within us.
Unadulterated, unsweetened observations are what the real nature-lover craves. No man can invent incidents and traits as interesting as the reality.
Walking and talking are two very great pleasures, but it is a mistake to combine them. Our own noise blots out the sounds and silences of the outdoor world; and talking leads almost inevitably to smoking, and then farewell to nature as far as one of our senses is concerned. The only friend to walk with is one who so exactly shares your taste for each mood of the countryside that a glance, a halt, or at most a nudge, is enough to assure us that the pleasure is shared.
In my garden, after a rainfall, you can faintly, yes, hear the_x000D_ _x000D_ breaking of new blooms.
Snowflakes fascinate me... Millions of them falling gently to the ground... And they say that no two of them are alike! Each one completely different from all the others... The last of the rugged individualists!
The sigh of all the seas breaking in measure round the isles soothed them; the night wrapped them; nothing broke their sleep, until, the birds beginning and the dawn weaving their thin voices in to its whiteness
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