Top Grasses Quotes

Browse top 62 famous quotes and sayings about Grasses by most favorite authors.

Favorite Grasses Quotes

1. "Ils niaient tranquillement, contre toute évidence, que nous ayons jamais connu ce monde insensé où le meurtre d'un homme était aussi quotidien que celui des mouches, cette sauvagerie bien définie, ce délire calculé, cet emprisonnement qui apportait avec lui une affreuse liberté à l'égard de tout ce qui n'était pas le présent, cette odeur de mort qui stupéfait tous ceux qu'elle ne tuait pas, ils niaient enfin que nous ayons été ce peuple abasourdi dont tous les jours une partie, entassée dans la gueule d'un four, s'évaporait en fumées grasses, pendant que l'autre, chargée des chaînes de l'impuissance et de la peur, attendait son tour."
Author: Albert Camus
2. "I sing to him that rests below,And, since the grasses round me wave,I take the grasses of the grave,And make them pipes whereon to blow.The traveller hears me now and then,And sometimes harshly will he speak:`This fellow would make weakness weak,And melt the waxen hearts of men.'Another answers, `Let him be,He loves to make parade of painThat with his piping he may gainThe praise that comes to constancy.'A third is wroth: `Is this an hourFor private sorrow's barren song,When more and more the people throngThe chairs and thrones of civil power?'A time to sicken and to swoon,When Science reaches forth her armsTo feel from world to world, and charmsHer secret from the latest moon?'Behold, ye speak an idle thing:Ye never knew the sacred dust:I do but sing because I must,And pipe but as the linnets sing:And one is glad; her note is gay,For now her little ones have ranged;And one is sad; her note is changed,Because her brood is stol'n away."
Author: Alfred Tennyson
3. "While it is relatively easy to recognize the perennial grasses and seed-eating sparrows as characteristic of meadows, the ecosystems exist in their fullest sense underground. What we see aboveground is only the outer margin of an ecosystem that explodes in intricacy and life below."
Author: Amy Seidl
4. "Drummer, beat, and piper, blowHarper, strike, and soldier, goFree the flame and sear the grassesTil the dawning Red Star passes"
Author: Anne McCaffrey
5. "The treetops swayed high above the mists along the edge of the forest known as Wynne Holt. Five boys, all in their twelfth year, lay on their stomachs peering through the grasses of the headland near The Point. They watched as the cloaked Creature, the Ge-sceaft, wandered through the shifting fog that intermittently smothered the field ahead of them. Its shadow faded and resurfaced as it roamed through the grasses; and at times, eerie noises-- almost like singing-- drifted to the edge of the cliff from where they watched. Angus, the oldest and brawniest of the lads, began telling tales that terrified and delighted the others. "It has horns, it does. That's why it wears the hood so far over its face. The horns aren't at the back; they're near the front, and it uses them to tear up its food like an animal uses claws and fangs." "What does it eat?" The other boys turned"
Author: Chautona Havig
6. "It only had to do with how it felt to be in the wild. With what it was like to walk for miles for no reason other than to witness the accumulation of trees and meadows, mountains and deserts, streams and rocks, rivers and grasses, sunrises and sunsets. The experience was powerful and fundamental. It seemed to me that it had always felt like this to be a human in the wild, and as long as the wild existed it would always feel this way."
Author: Cheryl Strayed
7. "They are gone now. Fled, banished in death or exile, lost, undone. Over the land sun and wind still move to burn and sway the trees, the grasses. No avatar, no scion, no vestige of that people remains. On the lips of the strange race that now dwells there their names are myth, legend, dust."
Author: Cormac McCarthy
8. "Dicey looked out over the tall marsh grasses, blowing in the wind. If the wind blew, the grasses had to bend with it."
Author: Cynthia Voigt
9. "My son, you've seen the temporary fireand the eternal fire; you have reachedthe place past which my powers cannot see.I've brought you here through intellect and art;from now on, let your pleasure be your guide;you're past the steep and past the narrow paths.Look at the sun that shines upon your brow; look at the grasses, flowers, and the shrubsborn here, spontaneously, of the earth.Among them, you can rest or walk until the coming of the glad and lovely eyes--those eyes that weeping, sent me to your side.Await no further word or sign from me:your will is free, erect, and whole-- to actagainst that will would be to err: thereforeI crown and miter you over yourself"
Author: Dante Alighieri
10. "Ever since this day I have dreamt sometimes... I, a street rat in my soul, dream even now... that if it were possible to life this littered, paved Manhattan from the earth... and all its torn and dripping pipes and conduits and tunnels and tracks and cables--all of it, like a scab from new skin underneath--how seedlings would sprout and freshets bubble up, and brush and grasses would grow over the rolling hills..."
Author: E.L. Doctorow
11. "For hours she had lain in a kind of gentle torpor, not unlike that sweet lassitude which masters one in the hush of a midsummer noon, when the heat seems to have silenced the very birds and insects, and, lying sunk in the tasselled meadow grasses, one looks up through a level roofing of maple-leaves at the vast, shadowless, and unsuggestive blue."
Author: Edith Wharton
12. "Water, wind and birdsong were the echoes in this quiet place of a great chiming symphony that was surging around the world. Knee-deep in grasses and moon daisies, Stella stood and listened, swaying a little as the flowers and trees were swaying, her spirit voice singing loudly, though her lips were still, and every pulse in her body beating its hammer strokes in time to the song."
Author: Elizabeth Goudge
13. "You come back here, you good-for-nothing! Come help me drag these ailing bones." The old man flees toward the Lethe as fast as his rickety legs will carry him. Like an army scouring the countryside, she surges in his wake, flattening grasses and bushes as she goes. The gap narrows. "Don't you recognize me?" she hollers. "It's me, your sweetie pie!"
Author: Emily Whitman
14. "Worst fears: That God was not good. That the earth you stood upon shifted, and chasms yawned; that people, falling, clutched one another for help and none was forthcoming. That the basis of all things was evil. That the beauty of the evening, now settling in a yellow glow on the stone of The Cottage barns, the swallows dipping and soaring, a sudden host of butterflies in the long grasses in the foreground, was a lie; a deceitful sheen on which hopeful visions flitted momentarily, and that long, long ago evil had won against good, death over life... in the glow of the sun against the stone walls, as well as in the dancing of butterflies- that in this she had been mocked."
Author: Fay Weldon
15. "Candleford Green was but a small village and there were fields and meadows and woods all around it. As soon as Laura crossed the doorstep, she could see some of these. But mere seeing from a distance did not satisfy her; she longed to go alone far into the fields and hear the birds singing, the brooks tinkling, and the wind rustling through the corn, as she had when a child. To smell things and touch things, warm earth and flowers and grasses, and to stand and gaze where no one could see her, drinking it all in."
Author: Flora Thompson
16. "Or awa' upon Islay, in January, the wind was honed to a cutting edge across the queer flatness of Loch Gorm and the strand and fields 'round. The roe deer had taken shelter in good time and the brown trout had sought deeper waters. An auld ram alone huddled against the wind, that had swept clear the skies even of eagle, windcuffer, and goose. The scent of saltwater rode the wind over the freshwater loch, and the dry field-grasses rattled, and there was the memory of peat upon the air: a whisky wind in Islay. The River Leòig was forced back upon itself as the wind whipped the loch to whitecaps; only the cairn and the Standing Stones stood unyielding in the blast as of old."
Author: G.M.W. Wemyss
17. "When I turned to climb the third wave, I saw at my feet a small leaf, perhaps an inch long, pointed, withered to bright chestnut but still smooth. It was supported above the soil in the grey points of short grasses which did not bend beneath its weightlessness. It was curved in all three planes. Fibrous veins displayed its structure. It was quite still. And as I watched its stillness spread; first to me. I wanted not to move by a hair's breadth. Lest the bond between it and me should break. The stillness spread to the grass around us. It encompassed the hill. The beech wood became attendant on it. The whole valley slowly filled with it. The leaf, and I its participant, had drawn the mileswide landscape into an attentive, breathless synthesis...there was no movement, no sound and no distinction or identifying of parts in all that had been there united. For there was no 'I' that gazed...through that tiny gateway I became one with what was boundless."
Author: Geoffrey Vickers
18. "What grasses the horses had left was heavy with dew, as if some passing god had scattered a bag of diamonds over the earth."
Author: George R.R. Martin
19. "As the autumn deepens, the fathomless lakes of their eyes assume an ever more sorrowful hue. The leaves turn color, the grasses wither; the beasts sense the advance of a long, hungry season. And bowing to their vision, I too know a sadness."
Author: Haruki Murakami
20. "Modern life is so thin and shallow and fake. I look forward to when developers go bankrupt, Japan gets poorer and wild grasses take over."
Author: Hayao Miyazaki
21. "All the trees, with all their laden branches; all the shrubs, and ferns, and grasses; the message-carrying air; all these unceasingly were active."
Author: Herman Melville
22. "What idiocy, to racing into this story and its labyrinths, sprinting away from our happiness among the fresh spring grasses by the oak."
Author: Ian McEwan
23. "The trees and the grasses and all things growing or living in the land belong each ro themselves."
Author: J.R.R. Tolkien
24. "I'm hungry.''Me too.''Will you get us something to eat?''I suppose I could take a look around. Maybe find a baby bird or a dead squirrel, or something. One word about a quiche, and I'll kill you.''While you're up there, try to find some nice, soft grasses we can sit on and be more comfortable.''Yes, comrade....Here. I found some eggs to suck on.''Did you remember to get the grasses?''No. I forgot.''Are you going to get the grasses?''Can I eat first?''I don't know why you say you'll do things if you don't mean it.''I MEANT it! I just FORGOT!''You can get the grasses after you finish eating.''Thank you.''And try to find some water. We're going to need water if we plan on hiding out here.''YES COMRADE! ANYTHING ELSE?'...'Y'know, we could've had these eggs in a quiche!"
Author: Jeff Smith
25. "If I could cut out my beating heart and put it in a box and forget about it, I would. Maybe I would pad the box with our photos of you, our love letters, a lock of your hair and that heart-shaped perfume bottle, the one that I gave you for your birthday. You always said it was your favorite. Maybe if I put the box up in the attic,some place out of sight and sound,I could forget you. (sigh)I force myself to look around my yard. The sun is brilliant against the bright blue sky,birds are singing out their borders and gathering twigs and grasses for nesting, and the late-season daffodils are bursting an egg-yolk yellow. I feel myself smile. For the first time this season,I spot a Peace rose, a sunshine-swelled bloom of yellow and pink flame. I inhale the bloom's faintly sweet fragrance,which floats delicate memories of youacross my mind's eye — I am happy. Without thinking, I turn to the houseto call you.If only It was that easy."
Author: Jeffrey A. White
26. "She once told him about the mysterious trampled-down places found in fields, which the peasants superstitiously called werewolves' nests. Coming across one of these sites, she fell to her knees and buried her face in the flattened yellow grasses, hoping to inhale the odor of a werewolf, a csordásfarkas. As if his scent was a charm. She smelled nothing but hay burned by the afternoon sun."
Author: Jody Shields
27. "I remember my childhood names for grasses and secret flowers. I remember where a toad may live and what time the birds awaken in the summer -- and what trees and seasons smelled like -- how people looked and walked and smelled even. The memory of odors is very rich."
Author: John Steinbeck
28. "There were frogs all right, thousands of them. Their voices beat the night, they boomed and barked and croaked and rattled. They sang to the stars, to the waning moon, to the waving grasses. They bellowed long songs and challenges."
Author: John Steinbeck
29. "[H]is gentle horses graze on fertile grasses and tempt me to ride off in search of answers to what if and what's out there and why not. Where everything around me hints there is more to offer but tells me time and again … not for me."
Author: Julie Cantrell
30. "AutumnThe autumn comes, a maiden fairIn slenderness and grace,With nodding rice-stems in her hairAnd lilies in her face.In flowers of grasses she is clad;And as she moves along,Birds greet her with their cooing gladLike bracelets' tinkling song."
Author: Kālidāsa
31. "Strong winds buffet the sea oats and tall dune grasses, tossing sand and seabirds where it will, winding my sister's golden hair into sunlit spirals of silk until it becomes the only good memory I have of her -- the only memory I allowed myself to keep."
Author: Karen White
32. "The path is a ribbon of moonlight across a dusky sea.The wind sings a song that beckons us To that great and mighty tree.We are the Greenowls of Ambala, clad in raiments of moss,Sprigged with lichens and grassesThen gilded with silvery frost.Fair and square we play- for a sporting lot we are.We ride the boisterous Balefire gustsAnd we reach for every star."
Author: Kathryn Lasky
33. "Lady Katsa, is it?" "Yes, Lord Prince.""I've heard you have one eye green as the Middluns grasses, and the other eye blue as the sky.""Yes, Lord Prince.""I've heard you can kill a man with the nail of your smallest finger."She smiled. "Yes, Lord Prince.""Does it make it easier?""I don't understand you.""To have beautiful eyes. Does it lighten the burden of your Grace, to know you have beautiful eyes?"
Author: Kristin Cashore
34. "In a little while they were kissing. In a little while longer, they made their slow sweet love.The iron bed sounded like a pine forest in an ice storm, like a switch track in a Memphis trainyard, like the sweet electrical thunder of habitual love and the tragical history of the constant heart. Auntee finished first, and then Uncle soon after, and their lips were touching lightly as they did.The rain was still falling and the scritch owl was still asleep and the dragonflies were hidden like jewels somewhere in deep brown wet grasses, nobody knew where.Uncle rolled away from his wife and held onto her hand, never let it go, old friend, old partner, passionate wife."
Author: Lewis Nordan
35. "The uniformity of the earth's life, more astonishing than its diversity, is accountable by the high probability that we derived, originally, from some single cell, fertilized in a bolt of lightning as the earth cooled. It is from the progeny of this parent cell that we take our looks; we still share genes around, and the resemblance of the enzymes of grasses to those of whales is a family resemblance."
Author: Lewis Thomas
36. "In the country whereto I goI shall not see the face of my friendNor her hair the color of sunburnt grasses;Together we shall not findThe land on whose hills bends the new moonIn air traversed of birds.What have I thought of love?I have said, "It is beauty and sorrow."I have thought that it would bring me lost delights, and splendorAs a wind out of old time . . .But there is only the evening here,And the sound of willowsNow and again dipping their long oval leaves in the water.-- from "Betrothed"
Author: Louise Bogan
37. "After I'd drawn the grasses, I started seeing them. Whereas if you'd just photographed them, you wouldn't be looking as intently as you do when you are drawing, so it wouldn't affect you that much."
Author: Martin Gayford
38. "Summer grasses,All that remainsOf soldiers' dreams"
Author: Matsuo Bashō
39. "When Great Trees FallWhen great trees fall,rocks on distant hills shudder,lions hunker downin tall grasses,and even elephantslumber after safety.When great trees fallin forests,small things recoil into silence,their senseseroded beyond fear.When great souls die,the air around us becomeslight, rare, sterile.We breathe, briefly.Our eyes, briefly,see witha hurtful clarity.Our memory, suddenly sharpened,examines,gnaws on kind wordsunsaid,promised walksnever taken.Great souls die andour reality, bound tothem, takes leave of us.Our souls,dependent upon theirnurture,now shrink, wizened.Our minds, formedand informed by theirradiance,fall away.We are not so much maddenedas reduced to the unutterable ignoranceof dark, coldcaves.And when great souls die,after a period peace blooms,slowly and alwaysirregularly. Spaces fillwith a kind ofsoothing electric vibration.Our senses, restored, neverto be the same, whisper to us.They existed. They existed.We can be. Be and bebetter. For they existed."
Author: Maya Angelou
40. "Her father had taught her about hands. About a dog's paws. Whenever her father was alone with a dog in a house he would lean over and smell the skin at the base of its paw. This, he would say, as if coming away from a brandy snifter, is the greatest smell in the world! A bouquet! Great rumours of travel! She would pretend disgust, but the dog's paw was a wonder: the smell of it never suggested dirt. It's a cathedral! her father had said, so-and-so's garden, that field of grasses, a walk through cyclamen--a concentration of hints of all the paths the animal had taken during the day."
Author: Michael Ondaatje
41. "I stood transfixed, the silence ringing in my ears. From the field of wild grasses; cocksfoot, tufted hair, wild oat, tall fescue, reed canary and perennial rye, their subtle shades of green, ochre and pink softly patching and blending in rustling movement, suddenly rose a small flock of starlings that had been feeding quietly unseen among the tall waving stems, the swish of their glossy wings startlingly loud in the stillness of midday. Heat held me captive."
Author: Nell Grey
42. "Like the grasses showing tender faces to each other, thus we should do, for this was the wish of the Grandfathers of the World."
Author: Nicholas Black Elk
43. "The Garden of Death""Yes, death. Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the softbrown earth, with the grasses waving above one's head, andlisten to silence. To have no yesterday, and no to-morrow. Toforget time, to forget life, to be at peace. You can help me.You can open for me the portals of death's house, for love isalways with you, and love is stronger than death is."
Author: Oscar Wilde
44. "Look at the four-spaced yearThat imitates four seasons of our lives;First Spring, that delicate season, bright with flowers,Quickening, yet shy, and like a milk-fed child,Its way unsteady while the countrymanDelights in promise of another year.Green meadows wake to bloom, frail shoots and grasses,And then Spring turns to Summer's hardiness,The boy to manhood. There's no time of yearOf greater richness, warmth, and love of living,New strength untried. And after Summer, Autumn,First flushes gone, the temperate season hereMidway between quick youth and growing age,And grey hair glinting when the head turns toward us, Then senile Winter, bald or with white hair,Terror in palsy as he walks alone."
Author: Ovid
45. "I recall feeling an almost delicious terror when one day I found myself alone in the midst of tall June grasses that grew high as my head. But here the secret working of self consciousness is almost too entangled with the things of the past for me to explain it."
Author: Pierre Loti
46. "But the trees seemed to know me. They whispered among themselves and beckoned me nearer. And looking around, I noticed the other small trees and wild plants and grasses had sprung up under the protection of the trees we had placed there. The trees had multiplied! They were moving. In one small corner of the world, Grandfather's dream was coming true and the trees were moving again."
Author: Ruskin Bond
47. "This is the spot where I will lie When life has had enough of me, These are the grasses that will blow Above me like a living sea.These gay old lilies will not shrink To draw their life from death of mine, And I will give my body's fire To make blue flowers on this vine."O Soul," I said, "have you no tears? Was not the body dear to you?" I heard my soul say carelessly, "The myrtle flowers will grow more blue."
Author: Sara Teasdale
48. "A full moon, although less splendid than that earlier on,lit everything around. Before I reached the point where I would have to leave the road and set off across country, the narrow path I was following seemed suddenly to end and disappear behind a large hedge, and there before me, as if blocking my way, stood a single, tall tree, very dark at first against the transparently clear night sky. Out of nowhere, a breeze got up. It set the tender stems of the grasses shivering, made the green blades of the reeds shudder and sent a ripple across the brown waters of a puddle. Like a wave, it lifted up the spreading branches of the tree and, murmuring, climbed the trunk, and then, suddenly, the leaves turned their undersides to the moon and the whole beech tree (because it was a beech) was covered in white as far as the topmost branch.It was only a moment, no more than that, but the memory of it will last as long as my life lasts."
Author: Saramago, José
49. "The world is holy. We are holy. All life is holy. Daily prayers are delivered on the lips of breaking waves, the whisperings of grasses, the shimmering of leaves."
Author: Terry Tempest Williams
50. "Under torture you are as if under the dominion of those grasses that produce visions. Everything you have heard told, everything you have read returns to your mind, as if you were being transported, not toward heaven, but toward hell. Under torture you say not only what the inquisitor wants, but also what you imagine might please him, because a bond (this, truly, diabolical) is established between you and him ... These things I know, Ubertino; I also have belonged to those groups of men who believe they can produce the truth with white-hot iron. Well, let me tell you, the white heat of truth comes from another flame."
Author: Umberto Eco

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Imitation is the highest form of flattery, but clones kind of get it wrong because we are promoting individuality and being proud of being yourself."
Author: Brian Molko

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