We do not have to die to enter the kingdom of Heaven, In fact we have to be fully alive. When we are truly alive we see that the tree is part of Heaven and we are also part of Heaven. The whole universe is conspiring to reveal this to us. Peace is available and when we touch it everything becomes real. We become ourselves, fully alive in the present moment.
The first rose on my rose-tree Budded, bloomed, and shattered, During sad days when to me Nothing mattered. Grief or grief has drained me clean; Still it seems a pity No one saw,—it must have been Very pretty.
Halt regarded him. He loved Horace like a younger brother. Even like a second son, after Will. He admired his skill with a sword and his courage in battle. But sometimes, just sometimes, he felt an overwhelming desire to ram the young warrior's head against a convenient tree. "You have no sense of drama or symbolism, do you?" he asked. "Huh?" replied Horace, not quite understanding. Halt looked around for a convenient tree. Luckily for Horace, there were none in sight.
Like a tree that grows stronger with more branches and roots, you need to find more and more ways to be inspired.
I push against the tree and run away, stumbling, the unreal night playing with me, gravity pulling from below, behind, above, making me fall. And I run through a world that is rotating, conscious of the earth's spin, of our planet twirling as it careens through nothingness, of the stars spiraling above, of the uncertainty of everything, even ground, even sky. Mumtaz never calls out, although a thousand and one voices scream in my mind, sing, whisper, taunt me with madness.
Give me again my hollow tree A crust of bread, and liberty!
I spent my 16th birthday high as a kite, jumping out of a tree topless in my local park just because it felt amazing hitting the ground.
I'm attracted to good writing. When I read the page and I know what we're after and where we're headed, and I'm fortunate enough to respect that idea and am able to pitch myself toward that, that feels like the culmination of everything that I've spent my life trying to do, since I played that tree in that play in third grade.
Content is to the mind like moss to a tree; it bindeth it up so as to stop its growth.
The one I spend the most amount of time in is a Ford Galaxy, which my tour manager drives me around in and which I drive at the weekends. What I love about the Galaxy is the amount of space I get. I can get so much done in the back of it while we're on the road, it's like my mobile office! I've also got a Ford B-Max, which I'm a total evangelist about. It's got rear doors that slide. Now, I can't park, so those are the best things ever. You can park right up against a tree and still get out!
This oak tree and me, we're made of the same stuff.
The blues is like a planet. It's an enormous topic. You can't ignore the impact that it has had and continues to have on the whole musical culture. It's a tree that everyone is swinging from. Without it, I don't know where I would be. It's indelible and indispensable.
Show me two villages, one embowered in trees and blazing with all the glories of October, the other a merely trivial and treelesswaste, or with only a single tree or two for suicides, and I shall be sure that in the latter will be found the most starved and bigoted religionists and the most desperate drinkers.
Only when the last tree has died and the last river has been poisoned and the last fish has been caught will we realise that we can not eat money.
Watering the tree that does give you neither shade nor fruit is a real ethics!
God cannot save them from fools.
The flocks fear the wolf, the crops the storm, and the trees the wind.
He who plants kindness gathers love.
There was nothing to react to except wind and trees [in Cast Away]. It was like making a silent movie.
A few minutes ago every tree was excited, bowing to the roaring storm, waving, swirling, tossing their branches in glorious enthusiasm like worship. But though to the outer ear these trees are now silent, their songs never cease.
