I love not man the less, but Nature more.
Lord ByronRead
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I love not man the less, but Nature more.
There is pleasure in the pathless woods, there is rapture in the lonely shore, there is society where none intrudes, by the deep sea, and music in its roar; I love not Man the less, but Nature more.
When faced with a radical crisis, when the old way of being in the world, of interacting with each other and with the realm of nature doesn't work anymore, when survival is threatened by seemingly insurmountable problems, an individual life-form -- or a species -- will either die or become extinct or rise above the limitations of its condition through an evolutionary leap.
Studies perfect nature and are perfected still by experience.
Nature has given women so much power that the law has very wisely given them little.
Put your thoughts to sleep, do not let them cast a shadow over the moon of your heart. Let go of thinking.
Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts.
How sweet the morning air is! See how that one little cloud floats like a pink feather from some gigantic flamingo. Now the red rim of the sun pushes itself over the London cloud-bank. It shines on a good many folk, but on none, I dare bet, who are on a stranger errand than you and I. How small we feel with our petty ambitions and strivings in the presence of the great elemental forces of Nature!
Green in nature is one thing, green in literature another. Nature and letters seem to have a natural antipathy; bring them together and they tear each other to pieces.
Your talent is God's gift to you. What you do with it is your gift back to God.
And then, just when you think that you have experienced all the wonders that this world has to offer, you round a peak and suddenly think you're doing the whole thing over again, but this time on drugs.
How beautiful the leaves grow old. How full of light and color are their last days.
I go to nature to be soothed and healed, and to have my senses put in order.
Extinction is the rule. Survival is the exception.
The fish is my friend too...I have never seen or heard of such a fish. But I must kill him. I am glad we do not have to try to kill the stars. Imagine if each day a man must try to kill the moon, he thought. The moon runs away. But imagine if a man each day should have to try to kill the sun? We were born lucky; he thought
He stood breathing, and the more he breathed the land in, the more he was filled up with all the details of the land. He was not empty. There was more than enough here to fill him. There would always be more than enough.
There seems to be some perverse human characteristic that likes to make easy things difficult.
We do not want merely to see beauty... we want something else which can hardly be put into words- to be united with the beauty we see, to pass into it, to receive it into ourselves, to bathe in it, to become part of it. That is why we have peopled air and earth and water with gods and goddesses, and nymphs and elves.
Sit down before fact as a little child, be prepared to give up every conceived notion, follow humbly wherever and whatever abysses nature leads, or you will learn nothing.
Consistency is contrary to nature, contrary to life. The only completely consistent people are dead.
My father considered a walk among the mountains as the equivalent of churchgoing.
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