There is memory in the forest.
She seemed to belong to that pagan, primitive kingdom of birds and forests where everything was infinitely abundant, wild, blooming, and royal in its perpetual decay, death, and rebirth; illicit and clashing with the human world.
Forests are the lungs of our land.
When chill November's surly blast make fields and forest bare.
It is from the Himalayan forests and ecosystems that I learned most of what I know about ecology.
If we lose the forests, we lose our only teachers.
I ran to the forest, I ran to the trees. I ran and I ran, I was looking for me.
Forests. . . are in fact the world's air-conditioning system-the very lungs of the planet-and help to store the largest body of freshwater on the planet. . . essential to produce food for our planet's growing population. The rainforests of the world also provide the livelihoods of more than a billion of the poorest people on this Earth. . . In simple terms, the rainforests, which encircle the world, are our very life-support system-and we are on the verge of switching it off.
Voyaging great distances -- through forests, from island to island, across plains and into the mountains -- is all about finding ourselves.
Religion supports nobody. It has to be supported. It produces no wheat, no corn; it ploughs no land; it fells no forests. It is a perpetual mendicant. It lives on the labors of others, and then has the arrogance to pretend that it supports the giver.