The birds I heard today, which, fortunately, did not come within the scope of my science, sang as freshly as if it had been the first morning of creation.
Not the Christian religion only, but nature herself, cries out against the state of slavery.
While Newton seemed to draw off the veil from some of the mysteries of nature, he showed at the same time the imperfections of the mechanical philosophy; and thereby restored her ultimate secrets to that obscurity, in which they ever did and ever will remain.
Everything in nature is a puzzle until it finds its solution in man, who solves it in some way with God, and so completes the circle of creation.
Nature. . . cannot be fooled!
The whole cable-TV original programming just changed the nature of television.
Every well built house started in the form of a definite purpose plus a definite plan in the nature of a set of blueprints.
Anybody's true nature is bullshit. There is no human soul. Emotion is bullshit. Love is bullshit.
When science drove the gods out of nature, they took refuge in poetry and the porticos of civic buildings.
Come to the woods, for here is rest. There is no repose like that of the green deep woods. Here grow the wallflower and the violet. The squirrel will come and sit upon your knee, the logcock will wake you in the morning. Sleep in forgetfulness of all ill. Of all the upness accessible to mortals, there is no upness comparable to the mountains.
We are all born bonded to nature; that's why we put depictions of flowers and forests, rather than bulldozers or log piles, on our walls.
Man's Place in Nature.
Natural things are glorious, and to know them is glorious.
A dilettantism in nature is barren and unworthy. A fop of fields is no better than his brother on Broadway.
You and I are now nearly in middle age, and have not yet become soured and shrivelled with the wear and tear of life. Let us pray to be delivered from that condition where life and nature have no fresh, sweet sensations for us.
What nature does blindly, slowly and ruthlessly, man may do providently, quickly, and kindly. As it lies within his power, so it becomes his duty to work in that direction.
Perhaps an individual must consider his own death to be the final phenomenon of nature.
Nature abhors a moron.
I want death to find me planting my cabbages.
Mid-summer. . . when the alchemy of Nature transmutes the sylvan landscape to one vivid and almost homogeneous mass of green; when the senses are well-nigh intoxicated with the surging seas of moist verdure and the subtly indefinable odours of the soil and the vegetation. In such surroundings the mind loses its perspective; time and space become trivial and unreal, and echoes of a forgotten prehistoric past beat insistently upon the enthralled consciousness.
