Seneca the Younger Quotes

In nature forms are endlessly being destroyed and then recreated and destroyed and recreated. Nature isn't afraid to destroy forms in the process of regenerating. So why are we afraid of that in life?

I think the tree is an element of regeneration which in itself is a concept of time.

Spring is a true reconstructionist.

In nature, there is less death and destruction than death and transmutation.

Let us learn to appreciate there will be times when the trees will be bare, and look forward to the time when we may pick the fruit.

Knowing trees, I understand the meaning of patience. Knowing grass, I can appreciate persistence.

We will burn the old grass and the new will grow.

The creation of a thousand forests is in one acorn.

The young is always there to replace what we call the old. That's the process, even in nature.

Flowers are reincarnation. They come out of the earth of our ashes. Nothing else looks so soul-like.

Spring drew on... and a greenness grew over those brown beds, which, freshening daily, suggested the thought that hope traversed them at night and left each morning brighter traces of her steps.

We are created by being destroyed.

It is only to the gardener that time is a friend, giving each year more than he steals.

With destruction comes renovation.

I try to be like a forest: revitalizing and constantly growing.

Deeds and seeds, take their own time to fructify.

Never yet was a springtime, when the buds forgot to bloom.

The trees are coming into leaf Like something almost being said; The recent buds relax and spread, Their greenness is a kind of grief. Is it that they are born again And we grow old? No, they die too. Their yearly trick of looking new Is written down in rings of grain. Yet still the unresting castles thresh In fullgrown thickness every May. Last year is dead, they seem to say, Begin afresh, afresh, afresh.

New beginnings and new shoots Spring again from hidden roots Pull or stab or cut or burn, Love must ever yet return.

Where unwilling dies the rose; buds the new another year.

The smallest sprout shows there is really no death.