Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Muir. 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 Muir Quotes And Sayings by 91 Authors including Seamus Heaney,Mark Twain,Padraic Colum,William Shakespeare,Emily St. John Mandel for you to enjoy and share.
I think of Dermot Healy as the heir to Patrick Kavanagh.
Whiskey is carried into committee rooms in demijohns and carried out in demagogues.
To Meath of the pastures,
From wet hills by the sea,
Through Leitrim and Longford,
Go my cattle and me.
Good morrow, fair ones; pray you, if you know,
Where in the purlieus of this forest stands
A sheep-cote fenc'd about with olive trees?
Dear friends, I find myself immeasurably weary and I have gone to rest in the forest.
There are two things a Highlander likes naked, and the other one is Malt Whisky
Pemberley Woods with some perturbation;
Angeles in the plain-clothes division,
What if in Scotland's wilds we viel'd our head, Where tempests whistle round the sordid bed; Where the rug's two-fold use we might display, By night a blanket, and a plaid by day.
The best in the state, Cannabis Cup winner for sure. Smiling now, N.P. turned his sunglasses at Wilson, said, I walked down
To the counsell of fooles a woodden bell.
For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war, Was to wed the fair Ellen of Lochinvar.
Woman, I've crushed more Campbells than ye'll ever know, and Ill go to my grave with a Campbell's heart clutched within my fingers."
"Will that heart be mine, my laird?"
"It might.
Dave gazed at Melanie like Professor Brian Cox eyeing up a particularly thought-provoking mountain range.
Old but contented, the face of a man who had sipped life's vinegar and found it, by and large, to be mostly whiskey, and good whiskey at that.
I'm in the woods with Dr. Doolittle.
The waving of a pine tree on the top of a mountain - a magic wand in Nature's hand - every devout mountaineer knows its power; but the marvelous beauty value of what the Scotch call a breckan in a still dell, what poet has sung this?
When I first caught sight of (Mount Shasta) over the braided folds of the Sacramento Valley I was fifty miles away and afoot, alone and weary. Yet all my blood turned to wine, and I have not been weary since.
What abandoned course is that?
It begins and ends with Mackenzie.
The even mead, that erst brought sweetly forth The freckled cowslip, burnet, and green clover, Wanting the scythe, all uncorrected, rank, Conceives by idleness, and nothing teems But hateful docks, rough thistles, kecksies, burrs, Losing both beauty and utility.
Whisky making is an act of cooperation between the blessings of nature and the wisdom of man.
mead for my men!
Do you know where Laoghaire is?
On 'Justified', we're driving all around Southern California trying to find a location that we can call Kentucky.
Manicured grounds of well-hidden mansions. At any other time Doug would have been slowing the car, peering through the trees, on the lookout for interesting old architecture. Because Douglas Llewellyn was an architect, the senior partner
There's a lot of letters in Ladanian Tomlinson
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
Arnold Schwarzenegger looks like a condom full of walnuts ...
Trackers and hunters sworn to deepwood with clan names like Forrester and Woods, branch and bole.
I am the One, the all and the only. I live in the Pendleton as surely as I live everywhere. I am the Pendleton's history and its destiny. The building is my place of conception, my monument, my killing ground.
Like all terrible golfers, Dr. Remond Courtney believed that nothing was too extravagant for his game. He wore Arnold Palmer sweaters and Tom Watson spikes, and carried a full set of Jack Nicklaus MacGregors, including a six-wood that the Golden Bear himself couldn't hit if his life depended on it.
I have gone to the forest
She summahs in Lake James, how mahvelous
Dost thou love hawking? Thou hast hawks will soar Above the morning lark.
Hayes. Peter Hayes.
Dean Walker, my brother. The man that's well on his way to earning the proud title of town drunk.
- Ay! Thornton o' Marlborough Mill, as we call him.
- He is one of the masters you are striving with, is he not? what sort of master is he?
- Did yo' ever see a bulldog? Set a bulldog on hindlegs, and dress him up in coat and breeches, and yo'n just getten John Thornton.
Ragweed,wild oat,vetch,butcher grass,invaginate volunteer beans,all heads gently nodding in a morning breeze like a mother's soft hand on your cheek ...
Is John Motson still wearing his shepherdskin coat?
You're about to meet the business end of my shotgun, comin' on McKay land and insulting me and mine.
Fenwick, sitting down to
Come to the woods, for here is rest.
Man is a great blunderer going about in the woods, and there is no other except the bear makes so much noise.
Hawthorn, white and odorous with blossom, framing the quiet fields, and swaying flowers and grasses, and the hum of bees.
Oh my God, is it a bear?"
Ian's yell from across the camp made Snow stop. Then he choked as laughter spilled from his throat.
"It's not a bear, Ian," Rowe yelled. "It's just Snow. Gettin' some.
There are few more impressive sights in the world than a Scotsman on the make.
THE "GLORI A SCOTT
The sea has had Conrad and Stevenson and Masefield, but the mountains continue to defy the written word. We have climbed their highest peaks and crossed their most difficult passes, but still they keep their secrets and their reserve; they remain remote, mysterious, spirit-haunted.
Thor's Morning Wood
Adventure runs on all sorts of whiskey.
The Indian Territory Mission,
Well, Mr. Carpetbagger. We got somethin' in this territory called the Missouri boat ride. -Josey Wales
Jockey Wilson, he comes from the valleys and he's chuffing like a choo-choo train!
Ere the blabbing eastern scout, The nice morn, on th' Indian steep From her cabin'd loop-hole peep.
Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade To shepherds, looking on their silly sheep, Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy To kings that fear their subjects treachery?
Margowegottagohomeandtell.
At heart, Curran was a cat. He liked soft things, high places, and enough room to stretch out.
Over hill, over dale, Thorough bush, thorough brier, Over park, over pale, Thorough flood, thorough fire, I do wander everywhere,
What seas what shores what grey rocks and what islands
What water lapping the bow
And scent of pine and the woodthrush singing through the fog
What images return
O my daughter
toward the Mount.4
Donald - ruler Donovan
Clare. Give me a reason to stay.
On the side of Mount Calamon a grove of glass flowers grows. The journey there is perilous, and the journey back is more so.
magnificent canyon of fashion.
Rough night?" Zay asked.
"Oh, no. Glorious, thanks. Mum had me cross-checking data on solid Veiled all damn night.Fuckin' A, there better be a shot of whiskey at the end of this damn morning."
"Nola said she'd have fresh coffee," I said.
"Whiskey. I'll say it slow: whiiiskey.
I like to think of The Falls as my own personal encyclopedia Greenaway-ensis.
(My dove my little one
tonight there will be wine and drunken suitors
from the logging camps to pin you down
in the outlying lands of sleep
where all roads lead back to the home-village
and water may be walked on)
Freyre! someone roared. No, not someone - Rhysand.
This is Doctor Norton. Who's calling?"
"Step N'Wolfe- the owner of the Emerald Cascade Ranch on Green Valley Road. I have a horse in labor and the baby's already coming out of the horse's ass."
"You should of called sooner.
The good Lord had been having a very creative day when he made Connor McKenzie
I'm lost in the woods right now,
Truth itself wanders through the forests.
The poet's, commonly, is not a logger's path, but a woodman's. The logger and pioneer have preceded him, like John the Baptist; eaten the wild honey, it may be, but the locusts also; banished decaying wood and the spongy mosses which feed on it, and built hearths and humanized Nature for him.
This is Shaun Mason activating security protocol Campbell. The bridge is out, the trees are coming, and I'm pretty sure my hand is evil. Now gimme some sugar, baby.
O' the blue-bodied cowherd - ever playful in love and war. Don't you fail to see the immensity of his wisdom and light.
Always there is a sort of dream of air between you and the hills of California, a veil of unreality in the intervening air. It gives the hills the bloom that peaches have, or grapes in the dew.
He's on a mission of mercy to the new frontier, he's gonna check us all on out of here. Up to that mansion on a hill, where you can get your prescription filled.
Six biscuits, crow, hydrant!
While Roscoe made cups of coffee for Charlie Hubble and Finlay sat in the rosewood office,
Mornin', Mrs. Kyle.
I look at Colin Meads and see a great big sheep farmer who carried the ball in his hands as though it was an orange pip.
Perry Johansson.
Hold on, Claire Bear! Next stop, Crazytown!
Wherever a Scotsman goes, here goes Burns. His grand whole, catholic soul squares with the good of all; therefore we find him in everything, everywhere.
Lucas felt uncommonly depressed and careless. Drunkenness, in a man like August Hay, melts the restraints on cheerfulness. On the contrary with Lucas: he kept up courage consciously. Sap his mind, and the lid was lifted from a cesspool of muddy colors.
The three drunkest cities in America: Fresno, Riverside, and whatever Mel Gibson is driving through.
Dennis Wholey. It
Sometimes the valley below is like a bowl filled up with fog. I can see hard green figs on two trees and pears on a tree just below me. A fine crop coming in. May summer last a hundred years.
When all thoughts
Are exhausted
I slip into the woods
And gather
A pile of shepherd's purse.
Like the little stream
Making its way
Through the mossy crevices
I, too, quietly
Turn clear and transparent.
Kenneth MacAlpin unifies the Picts and the Scots.
Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macavity, there never was a cat of such deceitfulness and sauvity.
Forest is forest.
Little strokes fell great oaks.
I do not think of him as Lord Ian Mackenzie, aristocratic brother of a duke and well beyond my reach; not as the Mad Mackenzie, an eccentric people stare at and whisper about.
To me, he is simply Ian.
We all have forests on our minds. Forests unexplored, unending. Each one of us gets lost in the forest, every night, alone.
ROBOT DRIVE TO PINE OMPHALOS QUINTAIN BULL'S EYE NITTY-GRITTY NUANCE MOOT HEGEMONY.
To the question: Wilderness, who needs it? Doc would say: Because we like the taste of freedom, comrades. Because we like the smell of danger. But, thought Hayduke, what about the smell of fear, Dad?
Comes he walking windy-ways, wandering under spruces and through canyons and across shadowy glens, hands in his pockets and head bowed as if all the weight of the world lies teetering on his slumped shoulders.
Save the trees of Ireland for the future men of Ireland on the fair hills of Eire, O.