You can’t just let nature run wild.
Those little nimble musicians of the air, that warble forth their curious ditties, with which nature hath furnished them to the shame of art.
Autumn’s the mellow time.
In the Spring, I have counted 136 different kinds of weather inside of 24 hours.
We talk of our mastery of nature, which sounds very grand; but the fact is we respectfully adapt ourselves, first, to her ways.
The air soft as that of Seville in April, and so fragrant that it was delicious to breathe it.
Where hast thou wandered, gentle gale, to find the perfumes thou dost bring?
A tree is an incomprehensible mystery.
The subtlety of nature is greater many times over than the subtlety of the senses and understanding.
Spring beckons! All things to the call respond; the trees are leaving and cashiers abscond.
Nature has never read the Declaration of Independence. It continues to make us unequal.
There’s always a period of curious fear between the first sweet-smelling breeze and the time when the rain comes cracking down.
I’ve made an odd discovery. Every time I talk to a savant I feel quite sure that happiness is no longer a possibility. Yet when I talk with my gardener, I’m convinced of the opposite.
And Fall, with her yeller harvest moon and the hills growin’ brown and golden under a sinkin’ sun.
He that will enjoy the brightness of sunshine, must quit the coolness of the shade.
Each blade of grass has its spot on earth whence it draws its life, its strength; and so is man rooted to the land from which he draws his faith together with his life.
I’ve always regarded nature as the clothing of God.
You can’t be suspicious of a tree, or accuse a bird or a squirrel of subversion or challenge the ideology of a violet.
Night comes to the desert all at once, as if someone turned off the light.
Nature is a good name for an effect whose cause is God.
Nature is not human hearted.
Nature was my kindergarten.
The moon is at her full, and riding high, Floods the calm fields with light. The airs that hover in the summer sky Are all asleep tonight.
As the poet said, ‘Only God can make a tree,’ probably because it’s so hard to figure out how to get the bark on.
The counterfeit and counterpart of Nature is reproduced in art.
