Showing posts with label forest. Show all posts
Showing posts with label forest. Show all posts
Friday, April 23, 2010
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Still a Freak
A friend of mine recently referred to me as a "tree freak." It was not an insult, he was just alluding to the fact that we both love these beautiful, huge, sacred beings. It would be hard to think of a higher compliment. Allow me to introduce you to some of my newest friends.
Between every two pines is a doorway to a new world. ~John Muir
Trees outstrip most people in the extent and depth of their work for the public good. ~Sara Ebenreck, American Forests
I willingly confess to so great a partiality for trees as tempts me to respect a man in exact proportion to his respect for them. ~James Russell Lowell
Trees are poems that earth writes upon the sky,
We fell them down and turn them into paper,
That we may record our emptiness.
~Kahlil Gibran
We fell them down and turn them into paper,
That we may record our emptiness.
~Kahlil Gibran
God has cared for these trees, saved them from drought, disease, avalanches, and a thousand tempests and floods. But he cannot save them from fools. ~John Muir
The trees are whispering to me, reminding me of my roots, and my reach... shhhhhh... can you hear them? Selflessly sharing their subtle song. ~Jeb Dickerson, www.howtomatter.com
Only when the last tree has died and the last river been poisoned and the last fish been caught will we realize we cannot eat money. ~Cree Indian Proverb
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
~Joyce Kilmer, "Trees," 1914
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
~Joyce Kilmer, "Trees," 1914
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