Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Shrubs. 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 Shrubs Quotes And Sayings by 91 Authors including Colin Mochrie,Erin Hunter,Horace Kephart,Larry Good,Ned Hayes for you to enjoy and share.
Why are there so many trees in the jungle?
shadows among the trees.
The hemlock tree is named spruce-pine, while spruce is he-balsam, balsam itself is she-balsam, laurel is ivy, and rhododendron is laurel.
Leaves lift trees.
The branches are a storm around me, and I fall into a deep well of green. The needles and limbs rush past. It is a whirling motion of green and brown branches.
addition to the landscape. No other shrub can bloom almost continuously from early summer until frost. And no
You know what they say, the high trees get the wind.
I love the long grass coming up to meet the willows.
E'en the rough rocks with tender myrtle bloom, and trodden weeds send out a rich perfume.
Glorious are the woods in their latest gold and crimson, Yet our full-leaved willows are in the freshest green. Such a kindly autumn, so mercifully dealing With the growths of summer, I never yet have seen.
Thorn bushes grow where armies have camped.
Trees down south have a difference to them, a subtle, slinking movement, mile by mile- a gracefulness, a swagger. Lanky trees stretching out their wiry thin, Spanish moss-covered branches, moss that sways and beckons ... come here, come here, it says.
Willow trees, willow trees they remind me of Desdemona
I'm so damned literary
and at the same time the waters rushing past remind
me of nothing
We went on, cutting through the branches, and it was as if we were swimming through a sea of leaves, with the bushes as waves rising and falling and rising around us, and flinging their green sprays high to the treetops.
Of all formal things in the world, a clipped hedge is the most formal; and of all the informal things in the world, a forest tree is the most informal.
Of all the trees that grow so fair Old England to adorn,
Greater are none beneath the Sun
Than Oak, and Ash and Thorn.
How vainly men themselves amaze To win the palm, the oak, or bays; And their uncessant labours see Crown'd from some single herb or tree. Whose short and narrow verged shade Does prudently their toils upbraid; While all flow'rs and all trees do close To weave the garlands of repose.
the trees began to form
Roger and I would squat in the heavily scented shade of the myrtle bushes and watch the array of creatures that passed us; at certain times of the day the branches were as busy as the main street of a town.
ground-growing shrub rather like a small azalea,' Madame is explaining when I return
The garden stretched out in a soft drift, colors jumbled any way, an unmade bed of red and yellow and pink. Then came the trees. Apple, plum, and the Japanese black pine.
The plants and flowers
I raised about my hut
I now surrender
To the will
Of the wind
Not foliage green, but of a fusk colour,
Not branches smooth, but gnarled and intertangled
not apple-tress were there, but thorns with poison.
Hyacinth bean and papayas, long vines, deep roots. Palm trees outside the garden walls, with deep roots, stand a thousand years.
In spring, when woods are getting green, I'll try and tell you what I mean.
There was not a tree on the place, only the horrible prickly pear bushes thrusting out their distorted arms as if exulting in their own nakedness.
I hope there are others also who don't mind trees.
A brotherhood of venerable trees.
Forest is forest.
The trees seemed to clothe the hill,
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 ...
God has cared for these trees, saved them from drought, disease, avalanches, and a thousand tempests and floods. But he cannot save them from fools.
Already, the Elms and the Chestnuts are gone, and the Hemlocks and the Flowering Dogwoods. And I didn't get a chance to climb them yet.
All the trees, with all their laden branches; all the shrubs, and ferns, and grasses; the message-carrying air; all these unceasingly were active.
The very uprightness of the pines and maples asserts the ancient rectitude and vigor of nature. Our lives need the relief of such a background, where the pine flourishes and the jay still screams.
The tree that God plants, no winde hurts it.
The light filtered through the trees, rays of sunlight splitting around the vast trunks, the branches above us fluttering in a faint wind, and the green needles of Douglas Firs shimmering silver underneath in the breeze.
I've always liked trees. And then, growing up, I took an interest in ecology, hedges being destroyed, the landscape being turned into prairies.
Leaves and bark, leaves and bark,
To lean against and hear in the dark.
Petals I may have once pursued.
Leaves are all my darker mood.
Willows whiten, aspens quiver, Little breezes dusk and shiver.
I love all trees, but I am in love with pines.
The rugged trees are mingling Their flowery sprays in love; The ivy climbs the laurel To clasp the boughs above.
In every bush lies a nest.
I'm in the woods so much I can tell you which plants are edible.
Digging through my roots to understand the way my branches grew.
I don't know if you've ever been covered head to toe in prickle bush, but let me tell you, it's not a pleasant experience, as I'm sure you can imagine.
If you would know strength and patience, welcome the company of trees.
I'm one of those people who happen to like trees. I don't know why - I just do. As a kid, I loved to climb them. The distant, upper branches, especially, were celestial and alluring.
And where should mankind be without trees?
Solitary Trees if they grow at all, grow strong.
On the trees were no longer only leaves but brown fruits, on the bushes no longer blossoms but clusters of red berries. And the wind had a rough manliness in its voice - the tone not of a lover but of a husband.
A second blow of many flowers appears, flowers faintly tinged and breathing no perfume; but fruits, not blossoms, form the woodland wreath that circles Autumn's brow.
Hay farms, scrub forest, and some bald-looking areas of
I know these trees by their feel and their scent. I don't have to turn on my light to know them. The wind blows through the trees. The leaves and needles shake. Almost I feel the wind is sweeping through me as well.
Well did I come to know the presiding dryads of those trees, and often have I watched their wild dances in the struggling beams of a waning moon - but of these things I must not now speak.
The bushes of love are blossomed through the manure of hardship.
When the sappy boughs Attire themselves with blooms, sweet rudiments Of future harvest.
It was all down, down, down, gradually
ruin and levelling and disappearance. Then it was all up, up, up, gradually, as seeds grew to saplings, and saplings to forest trees, and bramble and fern came creeping in to help.
Having contemplated this admirable grove, I proceeded towards the shrubberies on the banks of the river, and though it was now late in December, the aromatic groves appeared in full bloom.
His friend had the capacity to refer to anything from majestic ghost gum forest in the Snowy Mountains to the sticky, dense rainforest of North Queensland as 'Bush'. If it wasn't a desert, a town or a city, then to Gary it was 'the Bush'.
Dark-green and gemm'd with flowers of snow, With close uncrowded branches spread Not proudly high, nor meanly low, A graceful myrtle rear'd its head.
Trees have a secret life that is only revealed to those willing to climb them.
Why are there trees I never walk under but large and melodious thoughts descend upon me?
But in summer, welcoming summer, the rocks are soft-fledged with moss. The forest floor is bouncy with fresh shoots and enthusiastic blooms; the twisted angles of the branches are laced by bud and leaf.
Weed, are you familiar with the work of Carl Linnaeus? His Systema Naturae describes a classification system for all growing things."
Weed's eyes dart everywhere, probing every corner. "Unless he visited the madhouse, I never met him," he replies.
My woods...the young fir balsams like a place
Where houses all are churches and have spires.
A single slim trunk
Branches that bow in a storm
Green, leathery leaves with a soft centre
Glittering against blue sky
White bark scarred, bleeding
Heart wide-open
Bandaged, but upright she stands... (225)
Observe the beauty of forest.
Towering pines and hemlocks, was it? I thought, clambering over the burled knots of a fallen tree. The monstrous trunks rose so high that the lowest limbs started twenty feet above my head. Longfellow had no idea.
And finally, for readers who find themselves wanting to know more about the living green that surrounds us, I recommend that they waste no time in getting ahold of P. A. Thomas's book Trees: Their Natural History (2000),
A dense wall of greenery bordered it, ... an impenetrable barrier of oaks, evergreen shrubs, blackberry that somehow resisted the frost, and thorns. In the defense department, the witches would make Sleeping Beauty's evil witch weep with jealousy.
I am a woodlander, I have sap in my veins,
To rise above treeline is to go above thought, and after, the descent back into bird song, bog orchids, willows, and firs is to sink into the preliterate parts of ourselves.
Trees are green gold
The soft light of morning falls upon ripening forests of oak and elm, walnut and hickory, and all Nature is thoughtful and calm.
garden. I have been defeated,
It's about time trees were good for something, instead of just standing there like jerks!
Like black hulks the shadows of the great trees ride at anchor on the billowy sea of grass.
I wanted to design a chair which looked like a shrub pruned to look
like a chair.
Great trees are good for nothing but shade.
The stronger the winds, the deeper the roots, and the longer the winds, the more beautiful the tree.
Ragweed,wild oat,vetch,butcher grass,invaginate volunteer beans,all heads gently nodding in a morning breeze like a mother's soft hand <>ong>onong> your cheek ...
It is so still and transcendent, the cypress trees poise like flames of forgotten darkness, that should have been blown out at the end of the summer. For as we have candles to light the darkness of night, so the cypresses are candles to keep the darkness aflame in the full sunshine.
The snowdrop and primrose our woodlands adorn, and violets bathe in the wet o' the morn.
Every forest branch moves differently in the breeze,
but as they sway they connect at the roots.
Sparse on the mesa the dry weeds lashed in the wind like the earth's long echo of lance and spear in old encounters forever unrecorded.
Under a shady tree
can you feel the soft cool grass?
can you feel it with your toes?
we can sit here while it grows.
Laurie Berkner
Beeches stood aghast in pools of shed leaves. Silver poplars looked like moonbeams.
A modern arboretum brings us that ancient forest and, with it, a changed apprehension of time, a renewed appreciation of the elegance of natural form and a renewed sense of wonder at the variety of the world we inhabit.
Trees and flowers are the gift of earth for the sun to see, for his light and endless love for eternity.
newer here? There were no dense brambles,
The forest is blanketed by the greenest ferns and moss and bonsai-like trees, a wild majesty that beckons hobbits and pixies and elves and dreamers.
Enormous morning, ponderous, meticulous; gray light streaking each bare branch, each single twig, along one side, making another tree, of glassy veins.
What are men compared to rocks and trees?
The scent of trees was in the air.
Fair fresh leaves, and buds - and buds - tiny at first but swelling and working Magic until they burst and uncurled into cups of scent delicately spilling themselves over their brims and filling the garden air.
And as, when all the summer trees are seen So bright and green, The Holly leaes a sober hue display Less bright than they, But when the bare and wintry woods we see, What then so cheerful as the Holly-tree?
The thornbush is the old obstacle in the road. It must catch fire if you want to go further.
What do we plant when we plant a tree?
A thousand things that we daily see,
We plant the spire that out-towers the crag,
We plant the staff for our country's flag;
We plant the shade from the hot sun free,
We plant all these when we plant the tree.
Trees give peace to the souls of men.