Dead tree branches rattled, the cold wind seethed, it prattled of abominations about to unfold. A lone wolf howled, the full moon it prowled, ready for evils untold.
When the last tree has been cut down, the last fish caught, the last river poisoned, only then will we realize that one cannot eat money.
I've always - I grew up on the old-style traditional type of golf course, tree lined and all small greens, big undulations. And Oakmont just fit my eye.
When I was a child, my December weekends were spent making cards, decorating the tree, hanging the wreath and preparing brandy butter and peppermint creams.
I started very early, from five or six years old, to climb. To climb trees, to climb rocks everywhere I could. At some point, of course, I used a rope.
Control.... is not what we need. What we need is to bend to the tempest like pine and palm trees - flexible, adaptive, attuned, yet fully rooted in our principles.
We can speak without voice to the trees and the clouds and the waves of the sea. Without words they respond through the rustling of leaves and the moving of clouds and the murmuring of the sea.
It is not our job to remain whole. We came to lose our leaves Like the trees, and be born again, Drawing up from the great roots.
CONFLICT is the unhealthy fruit from the tree of MISUNDERSTANDING which was once a seed of INSECURITIES that sprout from the isolation of MIND, sipping slowly the liquid of PRIDE...
A depressing number of people seem to process everything literally. They are to wit as a blind man is to a forest, able to find every tree, but each one coming as a surprise.
We know about every massacre that has taken place close to the present, but the ones in the distant past are like trees falling in the forest with no one to hear them.
From the windows, through the fur of snow, the landscape became more melancholy when the sun successfully brightened the quiet trees, unable to speak without their leaves.
Anything remotely resembling news media is going to continue to migrate online until very little or none of it is produced on dead trees.
Trees are poems the earth writes upon the sky, We fell them down and turn them into paper, That we may record our emptiness.
The world is a garden of philosophy. God is its gardener; Man is the visitor. And any tree that does not bear fruits of philosophy either does not belong to that garden or is yet to be grown.
If you Love Happy Life, Save EARTH from getting more dirty & abused. I will be GREEN again … Tree's inner voice
In the long winter evenings he talked to Ma about the Western country. In the West the land was level, and there were no trees. The grass grew thick and high.
Everything's got space between it, the planets, trees, your eyes. Your eyes get too close together, it's a whole different world. You can lose perspective.
The only difference between man and man all the world over is one of degree, and not of kind, even as there is between trees of the same species. Where in is the cause for anger, envy or discrimination?
What the trees can do handsomely-greening and flowering, fading and then the falling of leaves-human beings cannot do with dignity, let alone without pain.
Truth is like a vast tree which yields more and more fruit the more you nurture it. The deeper the search in the mind of truth, the richer the discovery of the gems buried there.
