Meadows Quotes

Miracle woman … Your mouth is wine, and all your tender flesh An easeful meadow for my weariness.

Landscapes have a language of their own, expressing the soul of the things, lofty or humble, which constitute them, from the mighty peaks to the smallest of the tiny flowers hidden in the meadow’s grass.

Once a landscape is industrialized, its wild character is lost for good. You can’t recreate untouched tundra, mountain meadows, crystal clear streams, and animals that have never encountered toxic waste.

Hiking a ridge, a meadow, a river bottom, is as healthy a form of exercise as one can get.

No matter how intently one studies the hundred little dramas of the woods and meadows, one can never learn all the salient facts about any one of them.

A tranquil summer sunset shone upon him as he approached the end of his walk, and passed through the meadows by the river side. He had that sense of peace, and of being lightened of a weight of care, which country quiet awakens in the breasts of dwellers in towns.

Slowly the wasters and despoilers are impoverishing our land, our nature, and our beauty, so that there will not be one beach, one hill, one lane, one meadow, one forest free from the debris of man and the stigma of his improvidence.

Be like the sun and meadow, which are not in the least concerned about the coming winter.

It’s very interesting to see how the music is used, as sometimes you have composed something with a very different intention, and then suddenly you see it connected to something different. For example, it was incredibly strong and beautiful the first time I saw ‘This Is England’ by Shane Meadows.

When May, with cowslip-braided locks,
Walks through the land in green attire.
And burns in meadow-grass the phlox
His torch of purple fire:
And when the punctual May arrives,
With cowslip-garland on her brow,
We know what once she gave our lives,
And cannot give us now!

It was a silver cow. But when I say ‘cow’, don’t go running away with the idea of some decent, self-respecting cudster such as you may observe loading grass into itself in the nearest meadow. This was a sinister, leering, Underworld sort of animal, the kind that would spit out of the side of its mouth for twopence.

Art is like a butterfly fluttering in a meadow. Analysis of art is like a butterfly on a pin. Each has its value, but we must always be aware of the difference, and what is gained or lost.

Harshness vanished. A sudden softness has replaced the meadows’ wintry grey. Little rivulets of water changed their singing accents. Tendernesses, hesitantly, reach toward the earth from space, and country lanes are showing these unexpected subtle risings that find expression in the empty trees.

My mind was once the true survey Of all these meadows fresh and gay; And in the greenness of the grass Did see its hopes as in a glass.

I have observed that almost all those whose labour lies in the field, and who go down to their business in the green meadows, admit the animal world to a share in the faculty of reason. It is the cabinet makers who construct a universe of automatons.

He loves the world so much. I agree it would be a shame to take that love away from meadow and tree, stream and sky, and all that lives in nature, and leave them lonely.

I am a book of snow, a spacious hand, an open meadow, a circle that waits, I belong to the earth and its winter.

She told them simply and directly that the meadow was a place of peace and beauty, where indeed if one came to it in a quiet manner, the animals would not be disturbed; for there are lovely birds, and squirrels and field mice, and sometimes deer.

Tis a strange thing, that the only friends I have I found in the same way, lying flat in the meadows, crying as if their hearts would break.

Dreaming by the river, I dedicated my imagination to water, to clear, green water, the water that makes the meadows green.

August is ripening grain in the fields blowing hot and sunny, the scent of tree-ripened peaches, of hot buttered sweet corn on the cob. Vivid dahlias fling huge tousled blossoms through gardens and joe-pye-weed dusts the meadow purple.

Silently, one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven, Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels.

It is the mind which creates the world around us, and even though we stand side by side in the same meadow, my eyes will never see what is beheld by yours, my heart will never stir to the emotions with which yours is touched.

The first time I played golf was in Flushing Meadows, Queens, when I was about 16 or 17. They had an 18-hole pitch-and-putt. My buddies and I would hop the fence and sneak on and play.

Lovely the woods, waters, meadows, combes, vales,
All the air things wear that build this world of Wales.

That was at the Michigan Womyn’s Music Festival in about 1989. There were 6,000 women there, and they were out in a meadow, and I offered the tuning meditation and they did it.

Far away, in the meadow, shadows flickered in the Mirror’s Maze, as if parts of someone’s life, yet unborn, were trapped there, waiting to be lived.

The least thing upset him on the links. He missed short putts because of the uproar of the butterflies in the adjoining meadows.

Walk away quietly in any direction and taste the freedom of the mountaineer. Camp out among the grasses and gentians of glacial meadows, in craggy garden nooks full of nature’s darlings.

The first place that I can well remember was a large pleasant meadow with a pond clear water in it. Some shady trees leaned over it, and rushes and water-lilies grew at the deep end.

Americans are less mystical about what produced their inland or meadow courses; they are the product of the bulldozerm rotary ploughs, mowers, sprinkler systems and alarmingly generous wads of folding money.

Lord, it is time. The summer was very big. Lay thy shadow on the sundials, and on the meadows let the winds go loose. Command the last fruits that they shall be full; give them another two more southerly days, press them on to fulfillment and drive the last sweetiness into the heavenly wine.

We saw men haying far off in the meadow, their heads waving like the grass which they cut. In the distance the wind seemed to bend all alike.

The history of the meadow goes like this. No one owns it, no one ever will.

Peoples will be as before, the sheep sent to the slaughterhouses or to the meadows as it pleases the shepherds.

The boy and girl going hand in hand through a meadow; the mother washing her baby; the sweet simple things in life. We have almost lost track of them.

But then there is the one who seems to have a hard time separating the actor’s work from reality.

Cincinnatus was ploughing his four jugera of land upon the Vaticanian Hill, the same that are still known as the Quintian Meadows, when the messenger brought him the dictatorship, finding him, the tradition says, stripped to the work.

The fireflies o’er the meadow In pulses come and go.

It’s the place of the story, beginning here, in the meadow of late summer flowers, thriving before the Atlantic storms drive wet and winter upon them all.

This is a truth that should be repeated like a mantra: to have any chance of a ful – filling life, we require not only clean air and a steady climate, but also an abundance of meadows and woodlands, rivers and oceans, teeming with life and the mass existence of other living creatures.

A flower that grow in the ghetto know more about survival than the one from fresh meadows.

Hope is a walk through a flowering meadow. One does not require that it lead anywhere.

Go to the meadows, go to the garden, go to the woods. Open your eyes!

Buckwheat may be planted later than any similar crop, and often does well on old meadows or waste land that can be broken after the more exacting crops are planted.

Sleeping. Turning in turn like planets rotating in their midnight meadow: a touch is enough to let us know we’re not alone in the universe, even in sleep.

When the hounds of Spring are on winter’s traces,
The mother of months in meadow or plain
Fills the shadows and windy places
With lisp of leaves and ripple of rain.

The Universal Soul, as it is called, has an interest in the stacking of hay, the foddering of cattle, and the draining of peat-meadows.

So, without saying anything to the others, it made its way to the farthest corner of the meadow and began to toast an imaginary muffin. That was always the best way to unwind when things got to be too much for it.

Scholars may quote Plato in studies, but the hearts of millions shall quote the Bible at their daily toil, and draw strength from its inspiration, as the meadows draw it from the brook.

The sweet small clumsy feet of april came into the ragged meadow of my soul.

The most interesting parts of the natural world are the edges, places where ocean meets land, meadow meets forest, timberline touches the heights.

We humans will never know how meadows or mountains smell, but deer and horses and pigs do. Bando sniffs deeply and shakes his head. We were left out when it comes to smelling things, he says. I would love to be able to smell a mountain and follow my nose to it.

Have you ever noticed how many silences there are Gilbert? The silence of the woods….of the shore….of the meadows….of the night….of the summer afternoon. All different because the undertones that thread them are different.

Let beeves and home-bred kine partake The sweets of Burn-mill meadow; The swan on still St. Mary’s Lake Float double, swan and shadow!

The great unrequited love tears open your heart to the beauty of the world, its small rivers and upland meadows. It also makes you kinder to the next hundred thousand persons who cross your path.

The longer I live and the more I read, the more certain I become that the real poems about spring aren’t written on paper. They are written in the back pasture and the near meadow, and they are issued in a new revised edition every April.

Nature is our friend – trees, squirrels, grass, fields, meadows, oceans – without people. Hike. Walk. Stroll. Bike. Swim. Be in a still place and feel eternity. Have a great time. Just feel it.

I believe in the forest, and in the meadow, and in the night in which the corn grows.

It’s more eerie to be alone in a city that’s lit up and functioning than one that’s a tomb. If everything were silent, one could almost pretend to be in nature. A forest. A meadow. Crickets and birdsong. But the corpse of civilization is as restless as the creatures that now roam the graveyards.

Water astonishing and difficult altogether makes a meadow and a stroke.

If we had better hearing, and could discern the descants of sea birds, the rhythmic tympani of schools of mollusks, or even the distant harmonics of midges hanging over meadows in the sun, the combined sound might lift us off our feet.

All Thy works with joy surround Thee, God of glory, Lord of Love; Stars and angels sing around Thee, Center of unbroken praise. Field and forest, vale and mountain, Flowery meadow, flashing sea, Chanting bird and flowing fountain, Call us to rejoice in Thee.

Joys come from simple and natural things: mists over meadows, sunlight on leaves, the path of the moon over water.

Every kiss provokes another. Oh, in those earliest days of love how naturally the kisses spring to life! So closely, in their profusion, do they crowd together that lovers would find it as hard to count the kisses exchanged in an hour as to count the flowers in a meadow in May.

The idiot greens the meadow with his eyes,
The meadow creeps implacable and still;
A dog barks, the hammock swings, he lies.
One two three the cows bulge on the hill.

Boy, you’re like a horse.
Just now sated with seed,
You’ve come back to my stable,
Yearning for a good rider, fine meadow,
An icy spring, shady groves.

The days of wine and roses laugh and run away like a child at playThrough the meadow land toward a closing doorA door marked “nevermore” that wasn’t there before

Subby Subby Subby,” whispered Goss. “Keep those little bells on your slippers as quiet as you can. Sparklehorse and Starpink have managed to creep out of Apple Palace past all the monkeyfish, but if we’re silent as tiny goblins we can surprise them and then all frolic off together in the Meadow of Happy Kites.

We need the tonic of the wilderness, to wade sometimes in the marsh where the bitten and the meadow hen lurk, and hear the booming of the snipe; to smell the whispering sedge where only some wilder and more solitary fowl builds her nest, and the mink crawls with its belly close to the ground.

I am purely evil;
Hear the thrum
of my evil engine;
Evilly I come.
The stars are thick as flowers
In the meadows of July;
A fine night for murder
Winging through the sky.

Hiking a ridge, a meadow, or a river bottom, is as healthy a form of exercise as one can get. Hiking seems to put all the body cells back into rhythm. Ten to twenty miles on a trail puts one to bed with his cares unraveled.

A vi’let on the meadow grew, That no one saw, that no one knew, It was a modest flower. A shepherdess pass’d by that way– Light footed, pretty and so gay; That way she came, Softly warbling forth her lay.

Our village life would stagnate if it were not for the unexplored forests and meadows which surround it.

The tender Evenlode that makes Her meadows hush to hear the sound Of waters mingling in the brakes, And binds my heart to English ground. A lovely river, all alone, She lingers in the hills and holds A hundred little towns of stone, Forgotten in the western wolds.

John Bunyan, while he had a surpassing genius, would not condescend to cull his language from the garden of flowers; but he went into the hayfield and the meadow, and plucked up his language by the roots, and spoke out in the words that the people used in their cottages.

Conservatives of Western North Carolina should send Mark Meadows to Congress. We need his help.

When daisies pied and violets blue And lady-smocks all silver-white And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue Do paint the meadows with delight, The cuckoo then, on every tree, Mocks married men; for thus sings he, Cuckoo; Cuckoo, cuckoo; O, word of fear, Unpleasing to a married ear.

Therefore am I still a lover of the meadows and the woods, and mountains; and of all that we behold from this green earth.

He who abhors and shuns the light of the Sun,He who refuses to behold with respect the living creation of God,He who leads the good to wickedness,He who makes the meadows waterless and the pastures desolate,He who lets fly his weapon against the innocent,An enemy of my faith, a destroyer of Thy principles is he, O Lord!

That make the meadows green; and, poured round all, Old Ocean’s gray and melancholy waste,– Are but the solemn decorations all Of the great tomb of man.

There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,
The earth, and every common sight,
To me did seem
Apparelled in celestial light,
The glory and the freshness of a dream.

Look out into the July night, and see the broad belt of silver flame which flashes up the half of heaven, fresh and delicate as the bonfires of the meadow-flies. Yet the powers of numbers cannot compute its enormous age,—lasting as space and time,—embosomed in time and space.

Little things seem nothing, but they give peace, like those meadow flowers which individually seem odorless but all together perfume the air.

I sit beside the fire and think of all that I have seen, of meadow-flowers and butterflies in summers that have been; Of yellow leaves and gossamer in autumns that there were, with morning mist and silver sun and wind upon my hair.

The air was fragrant with a thousand trodden aromatic herbs, with fields of lavender, and with the brightest roses blushing in tufts all over the meadows.

Up from the meadows rich with corn, Clear in the cool September morn

The crowds at Flushing Meadow are about as impartial as a Nuremberg Rally.

Mark Meadows will fight for what’s right, because he understands that higher taxes and more regulations are not the way to solve our country’s problems.

When I was growing up in north-west London, our milkman’s cart was pulled by a horse, and cattle still grazed on the meadows near Church Farm.

I am the drying meadow; you the unspoken apology; he is the fluctuating distance between mother and son; she is the first gesture that creates a quiet that is full enough to make the baby sleep. My genes, my love, are rubber bands and rope; make yourself a structure you can live inside. Amen.

There are no days in the whole round year more delicious than those which often come to us in the latter half of April… The sun trembles in his own soft rays… The grass in the meadow seems all to have grown green since yesterday.

Large meadows are lovely for picnics and romping, but they are for the lighter feelings. Meadows do not make me want to write.

The Brangwens had lived for generations on the Marsh Farm, in the meadows where the Erewash twisted sluggishly through alder trees, separating Derbyshire from Nottinghamshire.

Many eyes go through the meadow, but few see the flowers in it

Detroit right now is virtually abandoned at its core to the degree that a lot of what had been slums thirty years ago are now wildflower meadows. The rebuilding of Detroit will occur a much smaller scale. It remains to be seen what will become of Detroit’s vast suburbs.

Censors are energetic and righteous people but they just couldn’t work a room like Abbe Lane.

A painting is more than the sum of its parts,’ he would tell me, and then go on to explain how the cow by itself is just a cow, and the meadow by itself is just grass and flowers, and the sun peeking through the trees is just a beam of light, but put them all together and you’ve got magic.

Whether the flower looks better in the nosegay than in the meadow where it grew and we had to wet our feet to get it! Is the scholastic air any advantage?

Fans always ask, What did the bedroom look like? All they ever saw was Alice or Ralph going in and out.

The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, Of wailing winds, and naked woods and meadows brown and sear.

From that first moment, in a way she could never explain, the Meadows claimed her and made her their own.

Nature has from the first expanded the minute blossoms of the forest only toward the heavens, above men’s heads and unobserved bythem. We see only the flowers that are under our feet in the meadows.

. . . the deer, the horse, the great eagle, these are our brothers. The rocky crests, the juices in the meadows, the body heat of the pony and man – all belong to the same family. . . . The White Man must treat the beasts of this land as his brothers.

O how beautiful is morning!
How the sunbeams strike the daisies
And the kingcups fill the meadow
Like a golden-shielded army
Marching to the uplands fair.

Take your brush here and there like a bee in an alpine meadow. In other words, don’t laboriously work on or try to finish off one particular part. Paint promiscuously.

Beside the brook and on the umbered meadow, Where yellow fern-tufts fleck the faded ground, With folded lids beneath their palmy shadow The gentian nods in dewy slumbers bound.

I appreciate the misunderstanding I have had with Nature over my perennial border. I think it is a flower garden; she thinks it is a meadow lacking grass, and tries to correct the error.

And by the meadow-trenches blow the faint sweet cuckoo-flowers.

In a meadow full of flowers you cannot walk through and breathe those smells and see all those colors and remain angry. We have to support the beauty, the poetry of life.

The bird is gone, and in what meadow does it now sing?

If you take the time to visit rural regions, where horsemen ride by and yurts are set up in summer meadows, you will come to know that the Kazak culture lives on.

I felt ravaged, and with both hands in a fantasy I reached out for her figure as we ran together through the meadow which belonged only to us and to which these others could never be admitted.”Oh, inocent love,” she said even as she drank from me, “oh, innocent innocent love.”

Times are changed with him who marries; there are no more by-path meadows, where you may innocently linger, but the road lies long and straight and dusty to the grave. Idleness, which is often becoming and even wise in the bachelor, begins to wear a different aspect when you have a wife to support.

I have to tell you I love living in a world without clocks. The shackles are gone. I’m a puppy unleashed in a meadow of time. — Stargirl

With no goals, no priorities, no life strategy of our own, we drift with the herd through an endless meadow of mediocrity, unable to break loose, to achieve even a small part of the dreams we once cherished.

Today, we must realize that nature is revealed in the simplest meadow, wood lot, marsh, stream, or tidepool, as well as in the remote grandeur of our parks and wilderness areas.

Full many a glorious morn I have seen Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye, Kissing with golden face the meadows green, Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy.

A power of Butterfly must be – The Aptitude to fly Meadows of Majesty concedes And easy Sweeps of Sky –

Cary Grant, said, ‘I heard you were on the lot and I just had to meet you.

The Venturer is one who keeps his eye on the hedgerows and wayside groves and meadows while he travels the road to Fortune.

We have the promises of God as thick as daisies in summer meadows, that death, which men most fear, shall be to us the most blessed of experiences, if we trust in him. Death is unclasping; joy, breaking out in the desert; the heart, come to its blossoming time! Do we call it dying when the bud bursts into flower?

As you walk through forests or the meadows of your mind, Stop and talk to those you fear Good friendships you may find