Quotes
Quotes about Trees
A society grows great when old men plant trees whose shade they know they shall never sit in.
You can sometimes count every orange on a tree but never all the trees in a single orange.
The trees that are slow to grow bear the best fruit.
Every creature is better alive than dead, men and moose and pine trees, and he who understands it aright will rather preserve its life than destroy it.
Trees are not known by their leaves, nor even by their blossoms, but by their fruits.
If you are planning for one year, grow rice. If you are planning for 20 years, grow trees. If you are planning for centuries, grow men.
Sweet are the uses of adversity, Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, Wears yet a precious jewel in his head; And this our life, exempt from human haunt, Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in stones, and good in everything.
The hermit doesn't sleep at night, in love with the blue of the vacant moon. The cool of the breeze that rustles the trees rustles him too.
The Oxen and the Axle-Trees A heavy wagon was being dragged along a country lane by a team of Oxen. The Axle-trees groaned and creaked terribly; whereupon the Oxen, turning round, thus addressed the wheels: Hullo there! why do you make so much noise? We bear all the labor, and we, not you, ought to cry out. Those who suffer most cry out the least.
The diligent farmer plants trees, of which he himself will never see the fruit. [Lat., Abores serit diligens agricola, quarum adspiciet baccam ipse numquam.]
And what is more melancholy than the old apple-trees that linger about the spot where once stood a homestead, but where there is now only a ruined chimney rising our of a grassy and weed-grown cellar? They offer their fruit to every wayfarer--apples that are bitter-sweet with the moral of times vicissitude.
The olive tree is the altar of Allah. On it Allah has placed olives free for all. May Allah allow none to alter His altars. In protecting trees may no one falter.
The sin of Judah is written with a pen of iron, and with the point of a diamond: it is graven upon the table of their heart, and upon the horns of your altars; Whilst their children remember their altars and their groves by the green trees upon the high hills.
Yellow, mellow, ripened days, Sheltered in a golden coating; O'er the dreamy, listless haze, White and dainty cloudlets floating; Winking at the blushing trees, And the sombre, furrowed fallow; Smiling at the airy ease, Of the southward flying swallow Sweet and smiling are thy ways, Beauteous, golden Autumn days.
Third act of the eternal play! In poster-like emblazonries "Autumn once more begins today"-- 'Tis written all across the trees In yellow like Chinese.
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness! Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run; To bend with apples the moss'd cottage trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core.
Ye flowers that drop, forsaken by the spring, Ye birds that, left by summer, cease to sing, Ye trees that fade, when Autumn heats remove, Say, is not absence death to those who love?
Babies are necessary to grown-ups. A new baby is like the beginning of all thingsâwonder, hope, a dream of possibilities. In a world that is cutting down its trees to build highways, losing its earth to concrete... babies are almost the only remaining link with nature, with the natural world of living things from which we spring.
Listen! O, listen! Here come the hum the golden bees Underneath full blossomed trees, At once with glowing fruit and flowers crowned.
The trees of life randomly grow but the graves of Arlington are set in rows.
Parents are often so busy with the physical rearing of children that they miss the glory of parenthood, just as the grandeur of the trees is lost when raking leaves.
Like summer seas that lave with silent tides a lonely shore, like whispering winds that stir the tops of forest trees, like a still, small voice that calls us in the watches of the night, like a child's hand that feels about a fast-closed door; gentle, unnoticed, and oft in vain: so is Thy coming unto us, O God. Like ships storm-driven into port, like starving souls that seek the bread they once despised, like wanderers begging refuge from the whelming night, like prodigals that seek the father's home when all is spent; yet welcomed at the open door, arms outstretched and kisses for our shame; so is our coming unto Thee, 0 God. Like flowers uplifted to the sun, like trees that bend before the storm, like sleeping seas that mirror cloudless skies, like a harp to the hand, like an echo to a cry, like a song to the heart; for all our stubbornness, our failure, and our sin: so would we have been to Thee, O God.
I need not shout my faith. Thrice eloquent Are quiet trees and the green, listening sod; Hushed are the stars, whose power is never spent; The hills are mute: yet, how they speak of God!
Palm Sunday I had no God but these, The sacerdotal trees, And they uplifted me, "I hung upon a Tree." The sun and moon I saw, And reverential awe Subdued me day and night, "I am the perfect light." Within a lifeless stoneâAll other gods unknownâI sought Divinity, "The Corner-stone am I." For sacrificial feast I slaughtered man and beast, Red recompense to gain. "So I a Lamb was slain." "Yea, such My hungering Grace That whereso'er My face Is hidden, none may grope Beyond eternal Hope.".
Fields and trees are not willing to teach me anything; but this can be effected by men residing in the city.
