Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Plains. 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 Plains Quotes And Sayings by 96 Authors including James Joyce,Will Oldham,Tracy March,Marty Rubin,Herman Melville for you to enjoy and share.
A region where grey twilight ever descends, never falls on wide sagegreen pasturefields, shedding her dusk, scattering a perennial dew of stars.
I like rural areas.
Welcome to Thistle Bend
Wildflower Capital of Colorado
The landscape looks different from every blade of grass.
Deep into distant woodlands winds a mazy way, reaching to overlapping spurs of mountains bathed in their hill-side blue.
At present, [in the desert] an exasperating clarity reigns. The sky has become less visible than water in a jar. Black peaks, spines of granite, a twisted tree are sculpted in this atmosphere basted with reflections. All that remains: a countryside of imperishable contours.
Once, when I was describing to a friend from Syracuse, New York, a place on the plains that I love, a ridge above a glacial moraine with a view of almost fifty miles, she asked, "But what is there to see?" The answer, of course, is nothing. Land, sky, and the ever-changing light.
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.
As I looked about me I felt that the grass was the country, as the water is the sea. The red of the grass made all the great prairie the colour of winestains, or of certain seaweeds when they are first washed up. And there was so much motion in it; the whole country seemed, somehow, to be running.
Wild steep mountains floating in a haze of cloud...a sea of green trees swallowing the hills and valleys, and curling around the trails and rivers, with the wind in the leaves as its tide.
A plain is what a mountain aims to be: the closest you can come to being in outer space while yet having your feet on this planet.
It's one of our favorite American myths that broad plains necessarily make broad minds, and high mountains make high purpose.
Even through the haze of summer you can see the cleared pockets of land that were once forest, now logged into oblivion. They look like a disease, but to the north and west, the untouched hills are a calm reminder.
the browning Assendelft flatlands, this stranger
Riding in advance, we passed over one of these great plains; we looked back and saw the line of scattered horsemen stretching for a mile or more; and far in the rear against the horizon, the white wagons creeping slowly along.
One of these days I'm going to leave Nebraska, cut all those strings and ties and travel to the other prairies of this earth. I must know if the people who live on those other prairies feel the same way about their horizons as we do about ours.
A lot of people find rural landscapes relaxing." "Sure, until you start wondering what's creeping behind those trees, or slithering along in the grass.
The blond cornfields were red gold, the haystacks turned rosy and threw long shadows. The whole prairie was like a bush that burned with fire and was not consumed.
To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee, One clover, and a bee, And revery. The revery alone will do, If bees are few.
Mountains and deserts, with their sparse life at the limit of existence, make one restless and disconsolate; one becomes an explorer in an intellectual realm as well as in a physical one.
Forest to their fields of corn and tobacco on the fertile slopes and rich bottom-lands. The
A young Harvard student, traveled west to Oklahoma to live among the Kiowa and participate in the solemn rites of the peyote cult. In one photograph the land appears as a blur of dust, the sky fading to gray, the air darkened by soil worked loose by the wind, the farmhouses
At the North Carolina border, the dull landscape ended abruptly, as if by decree. Suddenly the countryside rose and fell in majestic undulations, full of creeping thickets of laurel, rhododendron and palmetto.
Hills that stand soft and a sky that stands high and blue, and the sun setting behind a windmill, and always, always, hazy strings of mountains that fall and fall away on the horizon.
Hill. Yes, that was it. But it is a hasty word for a thing that has stood here ever since this part of the world was shaped.
I have always had a love for American geography, and especially for the landscapes of the South. One of my pleasures has been to drive across it, with no one in the world knowing where I am, languidly absorbing the thoughts and memories of old moments, of people vanished now from my life.
The village of Holcomb stands on the high wheat plains of western Kansas, a lonesome area that other Kansans call out there.
I'm here in the mountains, in the foothills of the Catskills.
On the prairie one can see the colour of the air.
Nothing could be more lonely and nothing more beautiful than the view at nightfall across the prairies to these huge hill masses, when the lengthening shadows had at last merged into one and the faint after-glow of the red sunset filled the west.
In valley drift we meet commonly with the bones of quadrupeds which graze on plains bordering rivers.
The prairie skies can always make you see more
than what you believe.
Near the centre of that State of New York lies an extensive district of country, whose surface is a succession of hills and dales, or, to speak with greater deference to geographical definitions, of mountains and valleys.
Peace. The upland serenity of high altitude, the openness of grassland without indigenous bush or trees; the greening, yellowing or silver-browning that prevailed, according to season.
What place is so rugged and so homely that there is no beauty; if you only have a sensibility to beauty?
I grew up in suburban New Jersey in a transitional area that was surrounded by farmland that wasn't being cultivated.
There was something about the prairie for me - it wasn't where I had come from, but when I moved there it just took me in and I knew I couldn't ever stop living under that big sky.
Houses, trees and fields of flax once flourished here. Summers had been blue with flowers. Now it was a shallow sea of stinking grey from end to end. And this is where you fought the war.
through woodlots and agricultural fields.
Landscape is history made visible.
Living in a rural setting exposes you to so many marvelous things - the natural world and the particular texture of small-town life, and the exhilarating experience of open space.
Gazing out from the mountains, the clouds are whiter, the sky is bluer, the air seeping into your lungs is as clear as the water roaring down from the snow, melting on the high peaks. A place where heaven is a little closer.
It is only in the mountains that I can fully appreciate my existence as a man in America, and my own native land
All mountain landscapes hold stories: the ones we read, the ones we dream, and the ones we create.
-from the Editor's Note, The Alpinist (April 1, 2010)
Now here I am, living in the land of tall pine trees and red dirt hills
Mountains are all right, I guess, because you can get on top of them and get a good view of the plains.
WindClan territory
Some look at the hills from far away and see only the barren lands; some travel amongst the hills and find the most beautiful valleys!
I'm from Chicago. I think can handle the Valley.
Bats and birds taken from those mountains
How can you live in the Northeast?
Pleasant it to behold great encounters of warfare arrayed over the plains, with no part of yours in peril.
A frontier is never a place; it is a time and a way of life.
In these shallow arroyos
and grease-covered hills,
blowing dust zones,
the Christmas spirit of cotton bales,
fried in butter
and sweeping heat,
life,
spaciously allotted.
Catching our breath,
smiling in silence,
with the lowering sun in our faces.
Other than an apparant Underworld gate, I had no idea what was in Kansas. Hay bales? Dorothy?
Here hills and vales, the woodland and the plain Here earth and water seem to strive again, Not chaos-like together crushed and bruised, But, as the world, harmoniously confused: Where order in variety we see, And where, though all things differ, all agree.
To arrive in the Rocky Mountains by plane would be to see them in one kind of context,as pretty scenery. But to arrive after days of hard travel across the prairies would be to see them in another way, as a goal, a promised land.
Was my first landscape, red brown as the clay of her georgia.
Before Alaska came along and ruined everything, one of every twenty-five square miles in America was Montanan. This much space has nurtured a healthy Cult of Place in which people find perfection, even divinity in the landscape.
Nowhere, not at sea, does a man feel more lonely than when riding over the far-reaching, seemingly never-ending plains ...
The uplands of my home country in north central Kentucky are sloping and easily eroded, dependent for safekeeping upon year-round cover of perennial plants.
Rising up starkly over the snowy plain, and that the plebs were flocking out
the sugar plantations on the Mississippi River.
There's a country spread out in the sky, a credulous carpet of rainbows and crepuscular plants: I move toward it just a bit haggardly, trampling a gravedigger's rubble still moist from the spade to dream in a bedlam of vegetables.
Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures Whilst the landscape round it measures, Russet lawns and fallows grey, Where the nibbling flocks do stray, Mountains on whose barren breast The labouring clouds do often rest; Meadows trim with daisies pied, Shallow brooks, and rivers wide.
Not a breath of air stirred over the free and open prairie; the clouds were like light piles of cotton; and where the blue sky was visible, it wore a hazy and languid aspect.
The slick bare tar, the same suburban station.
The high mountains are barren, but the low valleys are covered over with corn; and accordingly the showers of God's grace fall into lowly hearts and humble souls.
The day cold and fair with a high easterly wind: we were visited by two Indians who gave us an account of the country and people near the Rocky mountains where they had been.
Although farming of any sort was almost as impossible in the plains as in the dry regions of winter rains farther west, the abundance of buffaloes made life much easier in many respects.
Through the ample open door of the peaceful country barn, A sun-lit pasture field, with cattle and horses feeding; And haze, and vista, and the far horizon, fading away.
I have settled down in this border area; I am trying to find distinct standards of shape, and I long to experience, formulate, and evoke this dark, heavy, tranquillity.
The undulent landscape looks serene in every direction. Honey-colored farmhouses, gently placed in hollows, rise like thick loaves of bread set out to cool.
I told you it was a backwoods. They probably still practice corn sacrifice.
They travel through the heartland, past cold factories and drifty towns, to the old, old mountains slumbering east of Tennessee.
I have an affinity for Africa, especially East Africa, and Kansas looks very much like that.
The landscape you grow up in speaks to you in a way that nowhere else does.
The clear water the color of deeply steeped tea, surrounded by cattails and gracile grasses.
I had a farm in Africa, at the foot of the Ngong Hills.
Thirty or forty years ago, in one those grey towns along the Burlington railroad which are so much greyer to-day than they were then, there was a house well know from Omaha to Denver for its hospitality and for a certain charm of atmosphere.
of grass, watching the
I have a ranch in Montana, but it's not a real working ranch. I've always liked the outdoors. I come from Texas. My grandfather was a farmer; that's as close as I come.
field beyond field beyond field of well-kept cotton, each tuft white as a senator's eyebrow.
Lancaster, California ... that promised land sometimes called 'the west coast of Iowa.
The hills roll for miles; green, flourishing, dotted with trees and hikers. The blue sky is endless and the sun illuminates through the thin white clouds. There's a breeze coming upward and also across and as they collide it makes me feel as if I'm flying.
Mountains are where heaven meets earth.
We have a strong agricultural heritage in Kansas.
I watched the surrounding landscape with great curiosity, and I wanted to discover the words that could describe all its unspoiled beauty.
There are a lot of mountains with a lot of water.
A landscape image cuts across all political and national boundaries, it transcends the constraints of language and culture.
Mike Forsberg's images give us bright openings onto a world ... Here on the Great Plains both people and trees and everything else are in some way shaped by wind and weather. This book, too, has been shaped by where it comes from, and that's just a part of its beauty.
It is said that many children who live in the central provinces, away from the ocean, have a great longing to see it. I who had never been away from the monotonous country surrounding us looked forward eagerly to seeing the mountains.
Well it's hotter 'n blazes and all the long faces / there'll be no oasis for a dry local grazier
But the desert offers something that no forest brook or valley ever can: distance. A
I carry the landscape inside me like an ache. The story of who I am cannot be severed from the story of the flatwoods.
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!
Behold the Zebra on the plains, And shudder at his mighty manes!
Immerse yourself in the mesmerising patchwork of flatland invaded by water, desolate roads of industrial obsolescence, and a dark history
turnpike itself. Garraty
Our village life would stagnate if it were not for the unexplored forests and meadows that surround it. We need the tonic of wildness ...