I stood beside a hill_x000D_ _x000D_ Smooth with new-laid snow,_x000D_ _x000D_ A single star looked out_x000D_ _x000D_ From the cold evening glow._x000D_ _x000D_ There was not other creature_x000D_ _x000D_ That saw what I could see,_x000D_ _x000D_ I stood and watched the evening star_x000D_ _x000D_ As long as it watched me.
Interpretation
The quote reflects the beauty of a serene moment in nature, emphasizing connection and observation.
In this poem, Sara Teasdale captures a tranquil moment where she observes a star shining in the evening sky, surrounded by the stillness of a snow-covered hill. This moment of contemplation reveals a profound connection to nature and highlights the beauty that can be found in solitude, suggesting that even in isolation, there is an intimate dialogue between the observer and the observed.
In practice
This quote can be used in a speech about appreciating the small, beautiful moments in life.
As the waves of perfume, heliotrope, rose, _x000D_ _x000D_ Float in the garden when no wind blows, _x000D_ _x000D_ Come to us, go from us, whence no one knows; _x000D_ _x000D_ So the old tunes float in my mind, _x000D_ _x000D_ And go from me leaving no trace behind, _x000D_ _x000D_ Like fragrance borne on the hush of the wind.
From my spirit's gray defeat, From my pulse's flagging beat, From my hopes that turned to sand Sifting through my close-clenched hand, From my own fault's slavery, If I can sing, I still am free. For with my singing I can make A refuge for my spirit's sake, A house of shining words, to be My fragile immortality.
I thought of you and how you love this beauty, And walking up the long beach all alone I heard the waves breaking in measured thunder As you and I once heard their monotone. Around me were the echoing dunes, beyond me The cold and sparkling silver of the sea -- We two will pass through death and ages lengthen Before you hear that sound again with me.
Lyric night of the lingering Indian Summer, Shadowy fields that are scentless but full of singing, Never a bird, but the passionless chant of insects, Ceaseless, insistent. The grasshopper's horn, and far-off, high in the maples, The wheel of a locust leisurely grinding the silence Under a moon waning and worn, broken, Tired with summer.
Let it be forgotten, as a flower is forgotten, Forgotten as a fire that once was singing gold, Let it be forgotten forever and ever, Time is a kind friend, he will make us old.
For I shall learn from flower and leaf, That color every drop they hold, To change the lifeless wine of grief To living gold.
Consider the nematode roundworm, the most abundant of all animals. Four out of five animals on Earth are nematode worms — if all solid materials except nematode worms were to be eliminated, you could still see the ghostly outline of most of it in nematode worms.
The entire North Polar ice cap is disappearing before our very eyes. It's been the size of the continental United States for the last 3 million years and now 40 percent is gone and the rest of it is going.
The land retains an identity of its own, still deeper and more subtle than we can know. Our obligation toward it then becomes simple: to approach with an uncalculating mind, with an attitude of regard...be alert for its openings, for that moment when something sacred reveals itself within the mundane, and you know the land knows you are there.
If lightning is the anger of the gods, then the gods are concerned mostly about trees.
...Nature-the word that stands for the baffling mysteries of the Universe. Steadily, unflinchingly, we strive to pierce the inmost heart of Nature, from what she is to reconstruct what she has been, and to prophesy what she yet shall be. Veil after veil we have lifted, and her face grows more beautiful, august, and wonderful, with every barrier that is withdrawn.
I think the sun is a flower, That blooms for just one hour.
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