Quotes about grass

Tonight I miss you like the sky misses his moon a delicate epiphany growing on grass. I serenade the breeze into dancing a cha cha cha the mountains echo in the background. September sky never looked more charming or the sublime petals of the rose looked so graceful.

Grass is greener at other people’s feet because they watered it. You need not to let your environment control you you have what it takes to make it look beautiful!

I was actually born in L.A. My sisters and I were playing in a parking lot, and my dad was like, 'Nah, nah, nah. Let's go give 'em some grass.'

Breathless, we flung us on a windy hill, Laughed in the sun, and kissed the lovely grass.

Against barbarity, poetry can resist only by confirming its attachment to human fragility like a blade of grass growing on a wall while armies march by.

Wind and breeze are separated todayCrimson twilight denies to fade away Grass blades turn brown to match the soilWe pretend to smile at every turmoil

He looked at the blue sky above and the green grass below and he knew he would always love this world!

We never look at the grass, though it is ubiquitous. If it's left alone to shake its hair loose it will produce tiny tassels and flowers, miniature and beautiful, that I'd never noticed before. Beauty is so often size and commotion for us, and fancy labels, that the subterfuge of loveliness all around us goes unseen.

Just fancy! One can hear and see the grass growing,' thought Levin, as he noticed wet slate-coloured aspen leaf move close to the point of a blade of grass.

Meanwhile, spring came, and with it the outpourings of Nature. The hills were soon splashed with wild flowers; the grass became an altogether new and richer shade of green; and the air became scented with fresh and surprising smells -- of jasmine, honeysuckle, and lavender.

It doesn't matter how green a blade of grass is expected to be, when it's already smashed beneath the feet.

First, the wind would rumble in the distance like an approaching river, then he would see grass bend, pressed by a great invisible hand. The dull rumble would rise in pitch to a swishing, lashing exultation, causing stalks to lie flat against the ground while the tougher branches of shrubs held themselves up and shrieked their defiance in the gusts. Then the first drops, cold and heavy, would plummet from the sky and burst on the ground.

The horse is by Nature a very lazy animal whose idea of heaven is an enormous field of lush grass in which he can graze undisturbed until his belly is full, and after a pleasant doze can start filling himself up all over again.

I like it when a flower or a little tuft of grass grows through a crack in the concrete. It's so fuckin' heroic.

A child said What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands; How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any more than he. I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven. Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord, A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropt, Bearing the owner's name someway in the corners, that we may see and remark, and say Whose? Or I guess the grass is itself a child, the produced babe of the vegetation. Or I guess it

in the afterglowof an evening raini lay downin the grass and think of youmy body acheslike an after-kissbreaking in soft firesand wildflowersmy dear, i will always bethis tender for you.

Stone, steel, dominions pass,Faith too, no wonder;So leave alone the grassThat I am under.

Song of myselfA child said What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands; How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any more than he. I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven. Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord, A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropt, Bearing the owner's name someway in the corners, that we may see and remark, and say Whose? Or I guess the grass is itself a child, the produced babe of the vegetation.

If the shrike did not eat the grasshoppers, then the grasshoppers would eat all the grass, and there would be none left for the deer...and the deer are food for the tiger. Life in the jungle is a giant spiderweb; if you touch one strand, it will vibrate at the other end. We cannot separate nature into good and bad, Rita. The gods do not will it so.

Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under trees on a summer's day, listening to the murmur of the water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is by no means a waste of time.

Get close to grass and you’ll see a star.

I want to lie down on the bench then, or better yet, on the grass, rest on something living and see if I can hear the dead underneath.

And when I fall in love,” I began, "I will build a mountain to touch the sky. Then, my lover and I will have the best of both worlds, reality firmly under our feet, while we have our heads in the clouds with all our illusions still intact. And the purple grass will grow all around, high enough to reach our eyes.

There was after all no mystery in the end of love, no mystery but the mystery of love itself, which was large certainly but as real as grass, as natural and unaccountable as bloom and branch and their growth.

Happiness is an undercurrent of sensitivity and leads a surreptitious life: it is an internal eventuality. We can feel it in stillness and it stands the test of time. Joy is an eruption of cheerful moments and we want to express it: it is an external eventuality. We might shout it out, as it conveys a dynamic of fleeting instants. Joy gives voice to “en-joy-ment”. ("The grass was greener over there")

The grass always seems greener on the other side of the fence. Many politicians promise green, green grass by blending niceties with delusion and by using alluring confidence tricks. They voice attractive tales and tell things, people like to hear. But the post-factual grassland often appears to be parched and barren. ("The grass was greener over there")

Do you have a personal mantra? Mine comes from a childhood song. "Wherever I go the grass grows greener.

In the plains the grass grows tall, since there is no one to cut it. There is no one to water it either.

That though the radiance which was once so bright be now forever taken from my sight. Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass, glory in the flower. We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind.

I'm thankful to be breathing, on this side of the grass. Whatever comes, comes.

God, I can push the grass apart and lay my finger on Thy heart.

I used my imagination to make the grass whatever color I wanted it to be.

Your success lies in your own hands. You must therefore not wait for the grass to become greener by magic. You have the hands to irrigate your own territory by doing what is expected of you!

When the grass is greener at other people's feet, it is not because the grass chose to take up that complexion. But it is because, they have deliberately irrigated it on regular accounts.

The grass is yellow on both sides, envy turning on of them green.

I wish I could wrap up the glitter star-green of this moment and hand it to you like an angel gift. Give you the heat lightning flying in jagged silence over the distant mountains. And the smell of September prairie grass and the even fainter scent of October pine now descending . . .

It was June, and the world smelled of roses. The sunshine was like powdered gold over the grassy hillside.

A few of the world's most famous non-American novelists have large followings in the United States, among them Gabriel Garcia Marquez and Guenter Grass, who were both popular even before winning the Nobel.

The fulness of the godhead dwelt in every blade of grass.

I love the long grass coming up to meet the willows.

There is not a sprig of grass that shoots uninteresting to me.

To me a lush carpet of pine needles or spongy grass is more welcome than the most luxurious Persian rug.

The gods preferring their libations diluted with rainwater and mixed with freshly cut grass.

I had a dream about you. You was a crocodile and i was always looking for you with fear. Your teeth were alabaster and your skin green as grass. Unfortunate you had already a girlfriend. And i hoped she finish like a handbag. I love you from my all reptile heart, which is poikilothermic.

The children had had an argument once about whether there was more grass in the world or more sand, and Roger said that of course there must be more sand because of under the sea; in every ocean all over the world there would be sand, if you looked deep down. But there could be grass too, argued Deborah, a waving grass, a grass that nobody had ever seen, and the colour of that ocean grass would be darker than any grass on the surface of the world, in fields or prairies or people's gardens in Ame

Shirtless, they’d stretch out in the long grass and take the healing brunt of a noontime sun that gave no clue of the thunderheads it already, in secret, had begun to breed.

It was the week after Easter holidays, and he was journeying along with Smart the mare and the light spring-cart, watching the damp slopes of the hill-sides as they steamed in the warmth of the sun, which at this unsettled season shone on the grass with the freshness of an occasional inspector rather than as an accustomed proprietor.

Our heavenly Father is great in mercy,He feeds and clothes us everyday, We will worship and humbly learn from himFor our Lord clothes the grass of the field.

An employee is sheep. His employer is the shepherd. His salary is grass.

Yellow is the colour of the sun.Blue is the colour of the sky.Green is the colour of grass.Brown is the colour of your eyes.Black is the colour of the night.Orange is the colour of truth.Red is the colour of love.And...Rainbow is the colour of you.

The grass is always greener on the other side of personal extinction.

Every tree in the forest has a story to tell. Some of them were burnt but they endured the fire and got revived; some of them were cut, their barks injured, some people pick up their leaves to make medicines for their sicknesses, birds used their leaves to make their nests, etc. Upon all these, the tree is still tree!

And now it [grass] seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves, Tenderly will I use you curling grass,It may be you transpire from the breasts of young men, It may be if I had known them I would have loved them, It may be you from old people, or from offspring taken soon out of their mother's laps, And here you are the mothers'

We parked our bikes on verges so they could graze.

Somewhere, things must be beautiful and vivid. Somewhere else, life has to be beautiful and vivid and rich. Not like this muted palette -a pale blue bedroom, washed out sunny sky, dull green yellow brown of the fields. Here, I know ever twist of every road, every blade of grass, every face in this town, and I am suffocating.

Pile the bodies high at Austerlitz and Waterloo.Shovel them under and let me work-- I am the grass; I cover all.And pile them high at GettysburgAnd pile them high at Ypres and Verdun.Shovel them under and let me work.Two years, ten years, and the passengers ask the conductor: What place is this? Where are we now? I am the grass. Let me work.

You can judge me all you want, but it's just ridiculous coz we're both part of the same universe. Let's just ride the horses into the meadow and let them roll in the delightful grass.

Snakes hide in grass, people behind their lies.