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The best remedy for those who are afraid, lonely or unhappy is to go outside, somewhere where they can be read more
The best remedy for those who are afraid, lonely or unhappy is to go outside, somewhere where they can be quiet, alone with the heavens, nature and God. Because only then does one feel that all is as it should be and that God wishes to see people happy, amidst the simple beauty of nature. As long as this exists, and it certainly always will, I know that then there will always be comfort for every sorrow, whatever the circumstances may be. And I firmly believe that nature brings solace in all troubles.
I love little children too but I don't cut off
their heads and stick them in vases.
http://www.egroups.com/messages/nomow108/1.
I love little children too but I don't cut off
their heads and stick them in vases.
http://www.egroups.com/messages/nomow108/1.
Shuddering under the autumn stars, each year, the head sinks lower and lower.
Shuddering under the autumn stars, each year, the head sinks lower and lower.
Nature abhors annihilation.
[Lat., Ab interitu naturam abhorrere.]
Nature abhors annihilation.
[Lat., Ab interitu naturam abhorrere.]
And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it read more
And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.
In the depth of winter I finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer.
In the depth of winter I finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer.
Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops. Let the rain sing read more
Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops. Let the rain sing you a lullaby.
The groves were God's first temples.
The groves were God's first temples.
That man's best works should be such bungling imitations of Nature's infinite perfection, matters not much; but that he should read more
That man's best works should be such bungling imitations of Nature's infinite perfection, matters not much; but that he should make himself an imitation, this is the fact which Nature moans over, and deprecates beseechingly. Be spontaneous, be truthful, be free, and thus be individuals! is the song she sings through warbling birds, and whispering pines, and roaring waves, and screeching winds.
