Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Woodland. 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 Woodland Quotes And Sayings by 96 Authors including John Burnside,Patrick Modiano,John Muir,Rick Riordan,Melina Marchetta for you to enjoy and share.
For a boy of ten, used to the coal bings and rust-coloured burns of Cowdenbeath, the fields and woodland of Kingswood, with its overgrown but stately avenue of copper-barked sequoias, felt like a local version of paradise.
On the sidewalk, dead leaves. Or burned pages from an old Gaffiot dictionary. It's the neighborhood of colleges and convents.
The finest of the glacier meadow gardens lie ... imbedded in the upper pine forests like lakes of light.
Inhabited by those who died in wickness,
I live on the Jellicoe Road. Where trees make canopies over-head and where you can sit at the top of them and see forever.
The woods are beautiful. They're my friends, the trees, and I can feel them smiling down at me. I
Where are there towns but no houses, roads but no cars, forests but no trees?
Answer on a map
(Riddle on children's breakfast TV)
neighborhood, the place I left each
Thou hastenest down between the hills to meet me at the road, The secret scarcely lisping of thy beautiful abode Among the pines and mosses of yonder shadowy height, Where thou dost sparkle into song, and fill the woods with light.
In every village marked with little spire,
Embowered in trees, and hardly known to fame.
The Aravaipa village near Camp Grant. Although Camp
Looked at from above, west London isn't so much a city as a forest with buildings.
I grew up with the smell of the lake and the feeling of the woods.
Prescott National Forest is right on the edge of my home in Arizona.
Broad-streeted Richmond ... The trees in the streets are old trees used to living with people, Family trees that remember your grandfather's name.
Anywhere in town, kept to themselves, a predilection
There is memory in the forest.
Well, I'm not quite certain yet, young Mr. Fitzpatrick. I am considering the name Willow Hills. Or perhaps Maple Falls. What would you suggest?
Forest is the best port of the wise man!
Aniimal Town:~) The place where Dreams & Adventures come true!
Fifteen years ago, my wife and I purchased an authentic log cabin in Maryland. Painstakingly restored since, the cabin sits on a forested bluff high above a wide river frequented by ospreys, eagles, geese, herons, and other water fowl.
The town does not exist
except where one black-haired tree slips
up like a drowned woman into the hot sky.
There is no kingdom like the forests.
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.
The fresh, pungent summer smells of the forest bring me home to the natural, forgotten spiritual place deep inside me. The part of me where hope lives, where prayers are answered and life feels good.
Forest is forest.
I love the sound of the wind in the trees and the song of the birds and the shuffle in the leaves of my many woodland friends.
Hawthorne has given us a tradition that some people refer to as Yankee Magic Realism, and I do think there is a certain quality to the landscape that definitely leads into the dark woods.
I have gone to the forest
I am not bound for any public place, but for ground of my own where I have planted vines and orchard trees, and in the heat of the day climbed up into the healing shadow of the woods.
A tree that falls makes a lot of noise. But a woodland that grows and spreads its roots, does it quietly.
mansion that sits upon a hill just outside the sleepy little
You also live in Holmenkollen?' 'Close by. Or quite close by. Bislett.
Nothing is more beautiful than the loveliness of the woods before sunrise.
Along 4 Mile Run, there was a nice woods down in front of the house. I used to run around there.
Grew up in Stapleton House village, where blood flood the waters in the streets like oil spillage
It's the countryside. Perhaps this is our holiday home.
The forest is my loyal friend
A Delphic shrine to me.
The woods are a place where children can go to think. Children gravitate towards these spaces. When I was a child it was nothing more than a scrubby little overhang under a rhododendron bush, but it was incredibly important to me.
Oakmont, you've got to be playing slope.
Within the memory of many of my townsmen the road near which my house stands resounded with the laugh and gossip of inhabitants, and the woods which border it were notched and dotted here and there with their little gardens and dwellings, though it was then much more shut in by the forest than now.
Narrow lanes climb both slopes and come together in a great ring of elm trees which encircles the flat summit. Any wind
even the slightest
draws from the height of the elms a rushing sound, multifoliate and powerful.
In the river meadows, alders, brambles and wild vines formed a magical jungle, dappled with shimmering, greenish light and spangled with twirling forest particles. Marshy pools lay sparkling among the elderberries and leaning beeches.
I love the long grass coming up to meet the willows.
The woods seemed all answer and healing and more than enough to live for.
The forest hides many secrets.
through woodlots and agricultural fields.
Here grew willows and alders, their trunks twisted like giants' sinews. Around them bark lichen bloomed blue-white in the darkness. It felt like a good place, where there was old magic.
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.
Forests are places where we can get back in touch with our inner selves, where we can walk on soft ground, breathe in natural scents, taste berries, listen to the leaves crackling - all the senses are awakened in the subdued light and stress melts away like snow in the snow.
Every farm woodland, in addition to yielding lumber, fuel and posts, should provide its owner a liberal education. This crop of wisdom never fails, but it is not always harvested.
Come to the woods, for here is rest.
West of Arkham the hills rise wild, and there are valleys with deep woods that no axe has ever cut.
Kingsport or feel at home there. Before
THE MAN IN THE WOOD
The woods were made for the hunters of dreams,
The brooks for the fishers of song;
To the hunters who hunt for the gunless game
The streams and the woods belong.
Build your nest in no tree here ... for the Lord of the forest has condemned the whole woods to be demolished.
town. In the back of his
Hills of forest green where the mountains touch the sky, a dream come true, I'll live there til I die.
Screen porch in a tree.
Bergen, and Oldfield. The
Up the well known creek
Thomasville, North Carolina. A
The woods do not mean you well.
Nothing but trees.
Shut up, Ed - the world below us has turned into a map. A real map! The woods look like the "Woodland: Deciduous" markings of Ordnance Survey. It is just as they drew it! Who knew! Who knew you could put the whole world on paper, after all! The artists were right! This is so reassuring!
What would human life be without forests, those natural cities?
I thought the best place to hide a tree was in the woods.
Haunted trees
covered behind the curtains of their own leaves
stare at the dark
from the fringe of streets.
Where are the coconut trees bowing allegiance to the wind, the wide open spaces, the verdant green fields?
Shropshire, the fatlands of Gloucestershire,
In some mysterious way woods have never seemed to me to be static things. In physical terms, I move through them; yet in metaphysical ones, they seem to move through me.
What a noble gift to man are the Forests! What a debt of gratitude and admiration we owe to their beauty and their utility! How pleasantly the shadows of the wood fall upon our heads when we turn from the glitter and turmoil of the world of man!
Go to forest to meet the wise green friends!
The suburb is a place where someone cuts down all the trees to build houses, and then names the streets after the trees.
Between the borders of Faerie and the physical world stands an ancient forest where the trees are exceedingly tall; and although no longer visible to men, their roots go deep into its earth.
Hay farms, scrub forest, and some bald-looking areas of
A brotherhood of venerable trees.
There is pleasure in the pathless woods.
CLEARVIEW, QUEENS
A place like the meadow in the song I sang to Rue as she died. Where Peeta's child could be safe.
Years ago I had a house in Sussex, it was like Arcadia, with an old Victorian bridge, a pond and the Downs.
I know a place where the wild thyme blows, where oxlips and the nodding violet grows.
Arden Shore Camp in Lake Bluff, Illinois, a camp for poor children and those at risk for delinquency.
The place felt sinister, though. Your imagination can get the better of you where a road ends against a forest.
What is most striking in the Maine wilderness is the continuousness of the forest, with fewer open intervals or glades than you had imagined. Except the few burnt lands, the narrow intervals on the rivers, the bare tops of the high mountains, and the lakes and streams, the forest is uninterrupted.
Old woods and deep. At one time in the world there were woods that no one owned and these were like them.
Bagby Hot Springs.
Or, if you don't like the buildings, you can head to FOrest Park. That place is so big, they'd never find you in there. Just think of it: you could start up some big foot sightings.
What abandoned course is that?
A true forest is not merely a storehouse full of wood, but, as it were, a factory of wood.
Skyscraper National Park
Well being as there's no other place around the place, I reckon this must be the place, I reckon.
Inside the woods is an abandoned hotel.
Trees grow in the lobby
and up through the rooms.
Limbs jut out through the windows.
It looks like outside
inside.
I climb the trees
through 1000 rooms.
I look for you
in each of them.
You're a long shiny line.
Your lives be as full and happy as ours,and may the seasons be kind to you and your friends. The door of our Abbey is always open to any travellers roaming the dusty path between the woodlands and the plains.
shadows among the trees.
The churchyard. Walled in by houses and overrun with weeds, choked up with too much buying.
I didn't expect that for every shell on the coast there's a tree in the midlands.
The landscape here was strange. It was some type of forest, with giant vines that grew into spirals, round and round, growing up fifty metres toward the sky. They were massive. Some were fifteen metres across, narrowing as they rose.
There is a place they call La Pature, on the top of the hill, on the edge of the forest. Sometimes, on Sundays, I go and stay there with a book, watching the sunset.