A Quote by Henry David Thoreau

The morning wind forever blows, the poem of creation is uninterrupted; but few are the ears to hear it. — © Henry David Thoreau
The morning wind forever blows, the poem of creation is uninterrupted; but few are the ears to hear it.
The same wind blows on us all. The economic wind, the social wind, the political wind. The same wind blows on everybody. The difference in where you arrive in one year, three years, five years, the difference in arrival is not the blowing of the wind but the set of the sail.
Feel the wind. This wind blows from world to world and from life to death. This is the wind of dharma. Be in love with the wind. It is an intimate lover. It enraptures you. It blows you through eternity.
Blows the wind to-day, and the sun and the rain are flying, Blows the wind on the moors to-day and now, Where about the graves of the martyrs the whaups are crying, My heart remembers how!
I am never at my best in the early morning, especially a cold morning in the Yorkshire spring with a piercing March wind sweeping down from the fells, finding its way inside my clothing, nipping at my nose and ears.
Let us not be surprised when we have to face difficulties. When the wind blows hard on a tree, the roots stretch and grow the stronger, Let it be so with us. Let us not be weaklings, yielding to every wind that blows, but strong in spirit to resist.
To read a poem is to hear it with our eyes; to hear it is to see it with our ears.
The wind blows out of the gates of the day, The wind blows over the lonely of heart, And the lonely of heart is withered away.
The fire has its flame and praises God. The wind blows the flame and praises God. In the voice we hear the word which praises God. And the word, when heard, praises God. So all of creation is a song of praise to God.
I watch with envious eyes and mind, the single-souled who dare not feel The wind that blows beyond the moon, who do not hear the fairy reel
You never conquer a mountain. You just stand on the top a few moments. Then the wind blows your footprints away.
For a few precious moments... I am back in Old Texas, under a high sky... where all things are again possible... and the wind blows free.
There are parts on 'Wind's Poem' that are literal recordings of wind. I had this old sound effects record that I got some wind from and then I figured out that distorted cymbals sound just like wind so I used that a lot.
For there is a wind or a ghost of wind in all books echoing the life there, a high wind that fills the tubes of the ear until we think we hear a wind, actual.
You throw the sand against the wind and the wind blows it back again.
Mother loved the wind. When I was growing up, she would recite this poem to me. Who has seen the wind? Neither you nor I, But when the trees bow down their heads, The wind is passing by. So it is with God.
Not I, not I, but the wind that blows through me! A fine wind is blowing the new direction of Time.
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