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biblioquotables · 25 days
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“Anne gave him such a serious lecture on the sin of stealing plum jam that Davy became conscience stricken and promised with repentant kisses never to do it again.
"Anyhow, there’ll be plenty of jam in heaven, that’s one comfort,” he said complacently. Anne nipped a smile in the bud.
“Perhaps there will . . . if we want it,” she said, “But what makes you think so?” “Why, it’s in the catechism,” said Davy. “Oh, no, there is nothing like that in the catechism, Davy.”
“But I tell you there is,” persisted Davy. “It was in that question Marilla taught me last Sunday. ‘Why should we love God?’ It says, ‘Because He makes preserves, and redeems us.’ Preserves is just a holy way of saying jam.”
“I must get a drink of water,” said Anne hastily. When she came back it cost her some time and trouble to explain to Davy that a certain comma in the said catechism question made a great deal of difference in the meaning."
Anne of Avonlea by L. M. Montgomery
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biblioquotables · 2 months
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“And women still have memories of woods, Older than any personal memories;”
— Vita Sackville-West
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biblioquotables · 2 months
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Her feelings had come like a flower on a tree. A bud, gently forming – and just like that, an undying blossom.
The Priory of the Orange Tree (by Samantha Shannon)
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biblioquotables · 2 months
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She dreamed she was small as a seedling, and that all her hopes grew branches, like a tree.
The Priory of the Orange Tree (by Samantha Shannon)
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biblioquotables · 2 months
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Adeline had wanted to be a tree. To grow wild and deep, belong to no one but the ground beneath her feet, and the sky above, just like Estele. It would be an unconventional life, and perhaps a little lonely, but at least it would be hers. She would belong to no one but herself.
The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue - V.E. Schwab
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biblioquotables · 2 months
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Pale birch-girls were tossing their heads, willow-women pushed back their hair from their brooding faces to gaze on Aslan, the queenly beeches stood still and adored him, shaggy oak-men, lean and melancholy elms, shock-headed hollies (dark themselves, but their wives all bright with berries) and gay rowans, all bowed and rose again, shouting, "Aslan, Aslan!" in their various husky or creaking or wave-like voices.
"The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian" - C. S. Lewis
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biblioquotables · 2 months
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He was among trees then, spring trees tender with the new matchless green of young leaves, and a clear sun dappling them; summer trees full of leaf, whispering, massive; dark winter firs that fear no master and let no light brighten their woods. He learned the nature of all trees, the particular magics that are in oak and beech and ash.
Susan Cooper, The Dark Is Rising
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biblioquotables · 2 months
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There was a wood on the other side of the curtain through which Cal had been yanked, its thatch of branches so dense all but a sprinkling of snow had been kept from the ground, so that it was mossy and leaf-strewn underfoot.
"Weaveworld" - Clive Barker
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biblioquotables · 2 months
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From the old wood came an ancient melancholy, somehow soothing to her, better than the harsh insentience of the outer world. She liked the inwardness of the remnant of forest, the unspeaking reticence of the old trees. They seemed a very power of silence, and yet a vital presence. They, too, were waiting: obstinately, stoically waiting, and giving off a potency of silence.
D.H. Lawrence, Lady Chatterley's Lover
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biblioquotables · 2 months
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‘Imitate the trees.
Learn to lose in order to recover, and remember nothing stays the same for long, not even pain. Sit it out. Let it all pass. Let it go.’
— May Sarton.
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biblioquotables · 2 months
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Some humans say trees are not sentient beings, But they do not understand poetry--
Nor can they hear the singing of trees when they are fed by Wind, or water music-- Or hear their cries of anguish when they are broken and bereft--
Joy Harjo, Speaking Tree
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biblioquotables · 2 months
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Trees have long been trying to reach us. But they speak on frequencies too low for people to hear.
Richard Powers, The Overstory
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biblioquotables · 2 months
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Do the Trees Speak?
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Do the trees speak back to the wind when the wind offers some invitational comment?
As some of us do, do they also talk to the sun?
I believe so, and if such belief need rest on evidence, let me just say, Sometimes it's an earful.
But there's more.
If you can hear the trees in their easy hours of course you can also hear them later, crying out at the sawmill.
🌿 Mary Oliver, Felicity: Poems
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biblioquotables · 2 months
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Around me the trees stir in their leaves and call out, “Stay awhile.” The light flows from their branches.
And they call again, “It’s simple,” they say, “and you too have come into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled with light, and to shine.”
🌿 Mary Oliver, When I Am Among the Trees
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biblioquotables · 2 months
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We are not trees. We lack their stillness, their presence, the generosity that comes of spinning sunlight to sugar. To stand in stillness for centuries requires ingenuity in harnessing physical forces and genius for collaboration. They learned long ago that the key to life as a sessile being is to cultivate good relationships, that all flourishing is mutual, especially when you can’t run away.
Robin Wall Kimmerer, Foreword to Old Growth
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biblioquotables · 2 months
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August 17, 1924 Journals of Anais Nin 1923-1927 [volume 3]
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biblioquotables · 2 months
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May 25, 1931 Journals of Anais Nin 1927-1931  [volume 4]
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