Virtue pardons the wicked, as the sandal-tree perfumes the axe which strikes it.
When I was in pre-production for Trees Lounge, I was hearing the cinematographer talking with the production designer about colours and this and that and feeling like I was losing control.
Wisdom can see the red, the rose, the stained and sculptured curve of grey, the charcoal scars of fire, and see around that living tower of tree the hermit tatters of old bark split down and strip to end the season; and can be quiet and not look for reasons past the edge of reason.
This apple tree is not the first one I draw, but perhaps the thousandth. I feel the sap rise to its spreading branches. I feel in my toes how its roots grip the earth.
Appreciation is like looking through a wide-angle lens that lets you see the entire forest, not just the one tree limb you walked up on.
There is scarce a cave, an isolated rock, a lone pine tree or a pile of stones without supporting folklore.
The little owls call to each other with tremulous, quavering voices throughout the livelong night, as they sit in the creaking trees.
We are aware only of the empty space in the forest, which only yesterday was filled with trees.
Sometimes it’s like people are a million times more beautiful to you in your mind. It’s like you see them through a special lens—but maybe if it’s how you see them,that’s how they really are. It’s like the whole tree falling in the forest thing.
Lik the tree falling in the forest," says Ira. "Huh?" "You know, the old question - if a tree falls in a forest and no one's there to hear it, does it really make a sound?" Howie considers this. "Is it a pine forest, or oak?" "What's the difference?" "Oak is a much denser wood; it's more likely to be heard by someone on the freeway next to the forest where no one is.
I did not want to be a tree, a flower or a wave. In a dancer's body, we as audience must see ourselves, not the imitated behavior of everyday actions, not the phenomenon of nature, not exotic creatures from another planet, but something of the miracle that is a human being.
The tightrope of love swings back and forth, forever tied between the tree of anxiety and the tree of fear. Like life, it holds a constant reminder that death must be overcome.
It's in the democratic citizen's nature to be like a leaf that doesn't believe in the tree it's part of.
There seemed nothing so true as a yellow tree.
Did God who gave us flowers and trees, Also provide the allergies?
A street without trees is a street only for the sick-minded people whose god is nothing but money!
I want those young whipper-snappers to know that in days past we actually used to kill trees and make those things called books.
Was it for crimes that I had done He groaned upon the tree? Amazing pity! Grace unknown! And love beyond degree!
Sometimes you can't see the wood for the trees as an artist.
You get tragedy where the tree, instead of bending, breaks.