It's beautiful," said Mort softly. "What is it?" THE SUN IS UNDER THE DISC, said Death. "Is it like this every night?" EVERY NIGHT, said Death. NATURE'S LIKE THAT. "Doesn't anyone know?" ME. YOU. THE GODS. GOOD, ISN'T IT? "Gosh!" Death leaned over the saddle and looked down at the kingdoms of the world. I DON'T KNOW ABOUT YOU, he said, BUT I COULD MURDER A CURRY.
Interpretation
The quote reflects on the beauty of nature and the simplicity of existence, highlighting a moment of appreciation and wonder.
In this quote, Mort and Death share a moment where they marvel at the beauty of nature, specifically the sunset. This interaction illustrates the concept that even in death, one can appreciate the simple wonders of the world, suggesting that existence is beautiful regardless of its transient nature. Death's humorous remark about longing for a curry adds a light-heartedness to the profoundness of the moment.
In practice
This quote can be used in a speech about the importance of appreciating nature's beauty.
And then Jack chopped down what was the world's last beanstalk, adding murder and ecological terrorism to the theft, enticement, and trespass charges already mentioned, and all the giant's children didn't have a daddy anymore. But he got away with it and lived happily ever after, without so much as a guilty twinge about what he had done...which proves that you can be excused for just about anything if you are a hero, because no one asks inconvenient questions.
They've got something they do it with, I think it's called a mocracy, and it means everyone in the whole country can say who the new Tyrant is. One man ... one vet. ... Everyone has ... the vet. Except for women, of course. And children. And criminals. And slaves. And stupid people. And people of foreign extraction. And people disapproved of for, er, various reasons. And lots of other people. But everyone apart from them. It's a very enlightened civilization.
Geography is just physics slowed down, with a couple of trees stuck in it.
You can't trample infidels when you're a tortoise. I mean, all you could do is give them a meaningful look.
Any fool could be a witch with a runic knife, but it took skill to be one with an apple corer.
People look down on stuff like geography and meteorology, and not only because they're standing on one and being soaked by the other. They don't look quite like real science. But geography is only physics slowed down and with a few trees stuck on it, and meteorology is full of excitingly fashionable chaos and complexity. And summer isn't a time. It's a place as well. Summer is a moving creature and likes to go south for the winter.
Removing the weeds, putting fresh soil about the bean stems, and encouraging this weed which I had sown, making the yellow soil express its summer thought in bean leaves and blossoms rather than in wormwood and piper and millet grass, making the earth say beans instead of grass, - this was my daily work.
There, by the starlit fences The wanderer halts and hears My soul that lingers sighing About the glimmering weirs.
When the forest and the city are functionally indistinguishable, then we know we have reached sustainability.
Out of the shadows of night_x000D_ The world rolls into light.
Gardening is civil and social, but it wants the vigor and freedom of the forest and the outlaw.
My banks they are furnish'd with bees, Whose murmur invites one to sleep.
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