Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience.

In youth, it was a way I had, To do my best to please. And change, with every passing lad To suit his theories. But now I know the things I know And do the things I do, And if you do not like me so, To hell, my love, with you.

Should you shield the canyons from the windstorms you would never see the true beauty of their carvings.

I like this place and could willingly waste my time in it.

Tiger got to hunt, bird got to fly; Man got to sit and wonder 'why, why, why?' Tiger got to sleep, bird got to land; Man got to tell himself he understand.

So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay.

Nature's first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf's a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf.

Don't be ashamed to weep; 'tis right to grieve. Tears are only water, and flowers, trees, and fruit cannot grow without water. But there must be sunlight also. A wounded heart will heal in time, and when it does, the memory and love of our lost ones is sealed inside to comfort us.

I like it when a flower or a little tuft of grass grows through a crack in the concrete. It's so fuckin' heroic.

In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt.

The sunlight claps the earth, and the moonbeams kiss the sea: what are all these kissings worth, if thou kiss not me?

The clearest way into the Universe is through a forest wilderness.

The earth has music for those who listen.

I felt like lying down by the side of the trail and remembering it all. The woods do that to you, they always look familiar, long lost, like the face of a long-dead relative, like an old dream, like a piece of forgotten song drifting across the water, most of all like golden eternities of past childhood or past manhood and all the living and the dying and the heartbreak that went on a million years ago and the clouds as they pass overhead seem to testify (by their own lonesome familiarity) to this feeling.

Nature's peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop off like autumn leaves.

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep Sea, and music in its roar: I love not Man the less, but Nature more.

These people have learned not from books, but in the fields, in the wood, on the river bank. Their teachers have been the birds themselves, when they sang to them, the sun when it left a glow of crimson behind it at setting, the very trees, and wild herbs.

Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts. There is something infinitely healing in the repeated refrains of nature the assurance that dawn comes after night, and spring after winter.

To sit in the shade on a fine day, and look upon verdure, is the most perfect refreshment.

But especially he loved to run in the dim twilight of the summer midnights, listening to the subdued and sleepy murmurs of the forest, reading signs and sounds as a man may read a book, and seeking for the mysterious something that called called, waking or sleeping, at all times, for him to come.

The sea is emotion incarnate. It loves, hates, and weeps. It defies all attempts to capture it with words and rejects all shackles. No matter what you say about it, there is always that which you can't.

Quiet stars and the still of expectation. The eucalyptus branches heavy with evening dew, their feet shuffling woodchips, braiding eights in the silver grass, and edging hillocks from the first mulch of fall.

So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay.

Nature's first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf's a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief,

Snow was falling, so much like stars filling the dark trees that one could easily imagine its reason for being was nothing more than prettiness.

This grand show is eternal. It is always sunrise somewhere; the dew is never all dried at once; a shower is forever falling; vapor is ever rising. Eternal sunrise, eternal sunset, eternal dawn and gloaming, on sea and continents and islands, each in its turn, as the round earth rolls.

I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.

The glitter in the sky looks as if I could scoop it all up in my hands and let the stars swirl and touch one another, but they are so distant, so very far apart, that they cannot feel the warmth of each other, even though they are made of burning.

If we surrendered to earth's intelligence we could rise up rooted, like trees.

Not just beautiful, though the stars are like the trees in the forest, alive and breathing. And they're watching me.

I felt my lungs inflate with the onrush of scenery, air, mountains, trees, people. I thought, This is what it is to be happy.

Earth and sky, woods and fields, lakes and rivers, the mountain and the sea, are excellent schoolmasters, and teach some of us more than we can ever learn from books.

Every flower is a soul blossoming in nature.

On earth there is no heaven, but there are pieces of it.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep.

Just living is not enough... one must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower.

Spring is nature's way of saying, 'Let's party!'

Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better.

In high school I barely made the rodeo team. But I wasn't good enough to start, so I just rode the bench.

I've often wondered why more science textbooks don't tell teenagers that the only thing sharks like to eat more than fish, are dead prostitutes.

My point is, life is about balance. The good and the bad. The highs and the lows. The pina and the colada.

Well, someone slap my butt and give me a hero cookie. (Nick)

Beer has that Olympic medal color, Rot replied, but does it have a winning taste? I'd hardly call silver a champion flavor. No, I'll stick to my red wine.

Aside from the obvious, Francesca, what do you want in return for supplying information? Bones asked, getting back to the subject. You to take me,

Love is like breakfast with Mildred. Who's Mildred? How the heck should I know? I don't eat breakfast.

Zebrowski says that if you killed someone else just hide the body, he's not starting over on the paperwork.

I'm placing you under arrest for murder, conspiracy to commit murder and, I don't know, possibly littering.

To find out if she really loved me, I hooked her up to a lie detector. And just as I suspected, my machine was broken.?

She says you're not awake until you're actually out of bed and standing up.

Pressure is something you feel when you don't know what the hell you're doing.

I could tell by their audible gasps that the people on the beach were jealous of me when I found five shark's teeth. Locating them wasn't really the problem, but pulling them out of my leg was.

You and I have a love so secret that not even you know about it. But first, let me introduce myself.

Electricity is actually made up of extremely tiny particles called electrons, that you cannot see with the naked eye unless you have been drinking.

Selling something only to steal it back to sell again is not only dishonest, but highly profitable.

This was not one of those times.

There are times when it is appropriate, even preferable, to get an erection when someone's face is in close proximity to your penis.

I love running. I'm not into marathons, but I am into avoiding problems at an accelerated rate.

If you were to ask me the best time of day to fall in love, I'd say, Now. But you'd also have to remember to factor in the fact that my watch is eleven minutes fast.

A child of five could understand this. Send someone to fetch a child of five.

If you can't do anything about it, laugh like hell.