Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Moorland. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Moorland Quotes And Sayings by 94 Authors including Padraic Colum,Daniel Defoe,Dave Davies,Jo Nesbo,Bayard Taylor for you to enjoy and share.
To Meath of the pastures,
From wet hills by the sea,
Through Leitrim and Longford,
Go my cattle and me.
Manchester, one of the greatest, if not really the greatest mere village in England.
Exmoor and Dartmoor are sacred, magical places. You find a truer side of yourself there.
You also live in Holmenkollen?' 'Close by. Or quite close by. Bislett.
Melrose is the finest remaining specimen of Gothic architecture in Scotland. Some of the sculptured flowers in the cloister arches are remarkably beautiful and delicate, and the two windows - the south and east oriels - are of a lightness and grace of execution really surprising.
I grew up in Kilmichael, Mississippi. It's a dot on the map 100 miles north of Jackson.
I feel very at home in woodlands and could easily live there. I should have been one of Robin Hood's men.
The town of GUILDFORD, which (taken with its environs) I, who have seen so many, many towns, think the prettiest, and, taken all together, the most agreeable and most happy-looking, that I ever saw in my life.
I come from south Wales. A place called Aberbargoed.
I want a place where I can have horses.
Let us away, my love, with happy speed;
There are no ears to hear, or eyes to see,
- Drown'd all in Rhenish and the sleepy mead.
Awake! arise! my love and fearless be,
For o'er the southern moors I have a home for thee.
Romney Marsh remains one of the last great wildernesses of south-east England. Flat as a desert, and at times just as daunting, it is an odd, occasionally eerie wetland straddling the coastal borders of Kent and Sussex, rich in birds, local folklore and solitary medieval churches.
It's the countryside. Perhaps this is our holiday home.
What place is so rugged and so homely that there is no beauty; if you only have a sensibility to beauty?
West Yorkshire is quite dramatic and beautiful, the crags and things.
Lovely place, shame about the people!
There's no place on earth with more of the old superstitions and magic mixed into its daily life than the Scottish Highlands.
The country life near Manchester I really love.
I've got a farm in Somerset, and I think it's God's own country. I love it.
There are few places in my life that I've found more ruggedly beautiful than the Highlands of Scotland. The place is magical - it's so far north, so remote, that sometimes it feels like you've left this world and gone to another.
Numbers of snipes breed every summer in some moory ground on the verge of this parish.
Somerset has a wonderful wildness about it - it hasn't been tamed. This is farming country, and there's a realness here - I love it.
Hay farms, scrub forest, and some bald-looking areas of
A pink sunset - one of the reasons I moved to the seaside in Margate.
Aberdeen, a city in the northern reaches of HSBC-London. Their
NEW MILFORD, CONNECTICUT
I grew up in a little village in the west of Ireland.
12 Arnold Grove, Merseyside.
There is a town in north Ontario,
With dream comfort memory to spare,
And in my mind
I still need a place to go,
All my changes were there.
Blue, blue windows behind the stars,
Yellow moon on the rise,
Big birds flying across the sky,
Throwing shadows on our eyes.
Whenever I'm in Glasgow I go and stand outside the front of the house I grew up in, which is in Mount Vernon.
Derby born and bred, mate.
King Offa's dyke,
Kingsport or feel at home there. Before
Now the summer's in prime Wi' the flowers richly blooming, And the wild mountain thyme A' the moorlands perfuming. To own dear native scenes Let us journey together, Where glad innocence reigns 'Mang the braes o' Balquhither.
The Scottish Highlands are incredible. There seems to be magic and poetry everywhere.
May Moorland weavers boast Pindaric skill, And tailors' lays be longer than their bill! While punctual beaux reward the grateful notes, And pay for poems
when they pay for coats.
A town loved with bitter love.
Go anywhere in England where there are natural, wholesome, contented, and really nice English people; and what do you always find? That the stables are the real centre of the household.
Scotland: That garret of the earth - that knuckle-end of England - that land of Calvin, oatcakes, and sulfur.
I am attached to the west coast of Scotland - it's gorgeous to look at and challenging. You have to contend with the possibility of being blown away or rained on. And in the summer months you can be eaten alive by midges.
coming to Hollyhill to visit my
Hills of forest green where the mountains touch the sky, a dream come true, I'll live there til I die.
Let beeves and home-bred kine partake The sweets of Burn-mill meadow; The swan on still St. Mary's Lake Float double, swan and shadow!
This here is: JESUS LAND
Bright was the summer's noon when quickening steps
Followed each other till a dreary moor
Was crossed, a bare ridge clomb, upon whose top
Standing alone, as from a rampart's edge,
I overlooked the bed of Windermere,
Like a vast river, stretching in the sun.
founded on the hard rock or the wet marshes but after a certain point I don't care what it's founded on. When I came back from
here in Haven Point.
The Aravaipa village near Camp Grant. Although Camp
Hapmshire" typo,
the Dew-Drop Inn & Fishing Camp;
The Dew-Drop Inn & Fishing Camp;
I lived in Camden, Primrose Hill and Kentish Town for 10 years.
Spain, the country for castles in the air!" I
Goldsboro, North Carolina.
I grew up in Ditchling. It was an idyllic village at the foot of the South Downs. In those days, the village was full of artists and sculptors.
A stellar, fully-realized collection of stories ... grounded, wonderfully, in the river valleys of western Maine. You come away not only understanding a place but the soul of its people.
I was born and brought up near a village in Nottinghamshire and in my childhood enjoyed the freedom of the rather isolated country life. After the First World War, my father had bought a small farm, which became a marvelous playground for his five children.
is where I am destined to live.
Beautiful homes with beautiful flowers
Ireland, Ireland. That cloud in the west, that coming storm.
South to a town named Medina, north of Bellingham, Washington. Today,
Blissful Islands
house at Otowi Bridge.
The country is an archipelago of lakes,
the lake-country of New England.
The land girls from Shillingbury Farm looked the most altered
A region where grey twilight ever descends, never falls on wide sagegreen pasturefields, shedding her dusk, scattering a perennial dew of stars.
May the countryside and the gliding valley streams content me. Lost to fame, let me love river and woodland.
I am jealous of all those people who live on the shore of Dal Lake.
The Moors exist in eternal twilight, in the pause between the lightning strike and the resurrection. They are a place of endless scientific experimentation, of monstrous beauty, and of terrible consequences.
Glasgow has truly become my home away from home.
When I was a child, a lot of my time was spent in Scotland because my mother's Scottish, and we used to go up to Ayrshire and visit relations in a place called Dalry.
I enjoy travelling the world, but nowhere beats Walsall.
Messina between the volcanoes, Etna and Stromboli, having known the death-agony's terror. I always dread coming near the awful place, yet I have found the people kind, almost feverishly so, as if they knew the awful need for kindness.
Every morning there were silver snail trails crisscrossing the hall. There were cobwebs like soft clouds and pepperings of mold at the windowsills. The moor was coming inside.
My husband hailed from Dagenham; he's an Essex boy. Me myself, I come from Derry City in the northwest of Ireland, so we love to get back.
A heaven so clear, an earth so calm, So sweet, so soft, so hushed an air; And, deepening still the dreamlike charm, Wild moor-sheep feeding everywhere.
That part of Rostrevor which overlooks Carlingford Lough is my idea of Narnia.
St. Michaels Mount is a favourite place of mine; people will walk across to the Mount all day and assume they will be able to walk home. The spectacle of hundreds of people realising that the path they walked over on is disappearing under several feet of water is very amusing.
I love your hills and I love your dales, And I love your flocks a-bleating; but oh, on the heather to lie together, With both our hearts a-beating!
the village, since they forbade us to leave
On the Jellicoe road
I grew up in North Yorkshire, but now London is home.
Ireland?" "Small wet place across the Irish Sea," Barry offered kindly. "Where they drink a lot?" Lisa said faintly. "And they never stop talking. That's the place.
Know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime? Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle, Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime!
Abandoned mill that
Huntleigh's (Yes, I gave them a cheesy couple name in my mind)
What abandoned course is that?
It feels like Scotland." "Have you ever been?" "Mmmm. Twice. Have you?" "No." "You should. It's your roots. You'll be surprised how much they tug at you when you breathe the air in the Highlands or look out at a lowland loch.
As a boy, I had an uncle, T. G. Bond, who lived near Moreton Hampstead and who was passionately devoted to Dartmoor. He inspired me with the same love.
When I was a child in Scotland, I was fond of everything that was wild, and all my life I've been growing fonder and fonder of wild places and wild creatures. Fortunately, around my native town of Dunbar, by the stormy North Sea, there was no lack of wildness...
London, dirty little pool of life
I was born in Glasgow. But my family is pretty much from a little town called Paisley, famous for its cotton mills and paisley pattern.
Wales! Where the men are men and the sheep are scared!
Did you know, ji,' Zulu offered, 'that the map of Tolkien's Middle earth fits quite well over central England and Wales? Maybe all fairylands are right here, in our midst.
I have a cottage near Aldeburgh, and from there it's a sturdy two-mile walk across farmland to an empty beach, where I collect hag stones and run around with the dog. I'm a keen walker, and I love Suffolk's big skies.
neighborhood, the place I left each
The Forest of Dean. Here we lived in one of a row of small stone cottages with trees stretching over us like children doing ghost impressions with their hands, surrounded by closed coal mines slowly getting zipped back up into the earth.
An ugly, lovely town ... crawling, sprawling ... by the side of a long and splendid curving shore. This sea-town was my world.
Edinburgh is my adopted home. It's a place where I wanted to come and live, and I managed to arrange my life so it happened.
Very nice sort of place, Oxford, I should think, for people that like that sort of place.