A bird doesn't sing because it has an answer, it sings because it has a song.
Lou Holtz
A few minutes ago every tree was excited, bowing to the roaring storm, waving, swirling, tossing their branches in glorious enthusiasm like worship. But though to the outer ear these trees are now silent, their songs never cease.
John Muir
A hen is only an egg's way of making another egg.
Samuel Butler
A lot of people like snow. I find it to be an unnecessary freezing of water.
Carl Reiner
A mistake is simply another way of doing things.
Katharine Graham
A morning-glory at my window satisfies me more than the metaphysics of books.
Walt Whitman
A woodland in full color is awesome as a forest fire, in magnitude at least, but a single tree is like a dancing tongue of flame to warm the heart.
Hal Borland
Adapt or perish, now as ever, is nature's inexorable imperative.
H. G. Wells
Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
Ah, summer, what power you have to make us suffer and like it.
Russell Baker
All my life I have tried to pluck a thistle and plant a flower wherever the flower would grow in thought and mind.
Abraham Lincoln
All things are artificial, for nature is the art of God.
Thomas Browne
All water has a perfect memory and is forever trying to get back to where it was.
Toni Morrison
And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.
Anais Nin
And this, our life, exempt from public haunt, finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything.
William Shakespeare
Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.
Albert Camus
Beauty for some provides escape, who gain a happiness in eyeing the gorgeous buttocks of the ape or Autumn sunsets exquisitely dying.
Langston Hughes
Birds sing after a storm; why shouldn't people feel as free to delight in whatever remains to them?
Rose Kennedy
Break open a cherry tree and there are no flowers, but the spring breeze brings forth myriad blossoms.
Ikkyu Sojun
Breathless, we flung us on a windy hill, Laughed in the sun, and kissed the lovely grass.
Rupert Brooke
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