Brighten Quotes (page 2)
…it charms
mere eyesight to believe
The nearest thing not trees
Is the sky, into which
The trees reach, opening
their luminous new leaves…
and thought finds rest
beneath a brightened tree
In which, unseen, a warbler
feeds and sings. His song’s
Small shapely melody
Comes down irregularly,
as all light’s givings come.”
Sabbaths 1999 III
Wendell Berry
At the end of the day, no amount of investing, no amount of clean electrons, no amount of energy efficiency will save the natural world if we are not paying attention to it - if we are not paying attention to all the things that nature give us for free: clean air, clean water, breathtaking vistas, mountains for skiing, rivers for fishing, oceans for sailing, sunsets for poets, and landscapes for painters. What good is it to have wind-powered lights to brighten the night if you can't see...
Thomas Friedman
White-crested waves crash on the shore. The masts sway violently, every which way. In the gray sky the gulls are circling like white flakes. Rain squalls blow past like gray slanting sails, and blue gaps open in the sky. The air brightens. A cold silvery evening. The moon is overhead, and down below, in the water; and all around it-a wide frame of old, hammered, scaly silver. Etched on the silver-silent black fishing boats, tiny black needles of masts, little black men casting invisible lines...
Yevgeny Zamyatin
At some time in the recent past someone had decided to brighten the ancient corridors of the University by painting them, having some vague notion that Learning Should Be Fun. It hadn’t worked. It’s a fact known throughout the universes that no matter how carefully the colors are chosen, institutional decor ends up as either vomit green, unmentionable brown, nicotine yellow or surgical appliance pink. By some little-understood process of sympathetic resonance, corridors painted in those...
Terry Prachett
When I had laid it on the floor. I went to blow the fire a-flame, But something rustled on the floor, And someone called me by my name: It had become a glimmering girl. With apple blossoms in her hair. Who called me by my name and ran. And faded through the brightening air. . . .
William Butler Yeats
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