Henry Moore Quotes

I remember a hundred lovely lakes, and recall the fragrant breath of pine and fir and cedar and poplar trees. The trail has strung upon it, as upon a thread of silk, opalescent dawns and saffron sunsets.

The hostility of this landscape teaches me how to be quiet and unobtrusive, how to find grace among spiders with a poisonous bite. I sat on a lone boulder in the midst of the curlews. By now, they had grown accustomed to me. This too, I found encouraging-that in the face of stressful intrusions, we can eventually settle in. One begins to almost trust the intruder as a presence that demands greater intent toward life. On a day like today when the air is dry and smells of salt, I have found my open space, my solitude, and sky. And I have found the birds who require it.

This feels good being back in Michigan. You know, the trees are the right height.

The first place that I can well remember was a large pleasant meadow with a pond clear water in it. Some shady trees leaned over it, and rushes and water-lilies grew at the deep end.

Only the soldier pines and sentinels still showed green; the broadleaf trees had donned mantles of russet and gold, or else uncloaked themselves to scratch against the sky with branches brown and bare.

What has roots as nobody sees, Is taller than trees Up, up it goes, And yet never grows? A mountain.

Yes, I could see these enormous elephants, whose trunks were tearing down large boughs, and working in and out the trees like a legion of serpents. I could hear the sounds of the mighty tusks uprooting huge trees!

All the trees are losing their leaves, and not one of them is worried.

Around me the trees stir in their leaves and call out, Stay awhile.

Spring hangs her infant blossoms on the trees, Rock'd in the cradle of the western breeze.

The trees are our lungs, the rivers our circulation, the air our breath, and the earth our body.

The sun goes down long and red. All the magic names of the valley unrolled - Manteca, Madera, all the rest. Soon it got dusk, a grapy dusk, a purple dusk over tangerine groves and long melon field; the sun the color of pressed grapes, slashed with burgundy red, the fields the color of love and Spanish mysteries. I stuck my head out the window and took deep breaths of the fragant air. It was the most beautiful of all moments.

As sunbeams stream through liberal space And nothing jostle or displace, So waved the pine-tree through my thought And fanned the dreams it never brought.

Suddenly a mist of green on the trees, as quiet as thought.

Maples are such sociable trees ... They're always rustling and whispering to you.

It was a cold day but the sun was out and the trees were like great bonfires against gray distant fields and hills.

The trees come up to my window like the yearning voice of the dumb earth

Rivers perhaps are the only physical features of the world that are at their best from the air.

According to accounts of the Buddha's life, it would seem that he had a very deep relationship with nature. He was not born in the royal palace but in a park, under a sala tree. He attained complete enlightenment under the bodhi tree and left this earth to enter Parinirvana, again, between three sala trees. It would seem that the Buddha was very fond of trees.

Would there be trees if we didn't see them?

O leave this barren spot to me! Spare, woodman, spare the beechen tree.

For me, trees have always been the most penetrating preachers.

and even the trees we walked under seemed less than trees and more like everything else.