It was an overcast late November morning, the grass splintered by hoarfrost, and winter grinning through the gaps in the clouds like a bad clown peering through the curtains before the show begins.
Interpretation
The quote paints a vivid picture of a chilly winter morning, highlighting the eerie anticipation of the season's arrival.
In this quote, John Connolly uses rich imagery to evoke the mood of a cold November morning. The description of the hoarfrost and winter's presence as a 'bad clown' suggests an unsettling but intriguing atmosphere, inviting readers to experience the beauty and strangeness of nature as winter approaches, where the familiar becomes slightly ominous.
In practice
This quote can be used to introduce a discussion on seasonal changes in a nature appreciation group.
Without a human voice to read them aloud, or a pair of wide eyes following them by flashlight beneath a blanket, they had no real existence in our world. They were like seeds in the beak of a bird, waiting to fall to earth, or the notes of a song laid out on a sheet, yearning for an instrument to bring their music into being.
For in every adult there dwells the child that was, and in every child there lies the adult that will be.
We all have our routines," he said softly."But they must have a purpose and provide an outcome that we can see and take some comfort from, or else they have no use at all. Without that, they are like the endless pacings of a caged animal. If they are not madness itself, then they are a prelude to it.
He would talk to them of stories and books, and explain to them how stories wanted to be told and books wanted to be read, and how everything that they ever needed to know about life and the land of which he wrote, or about any land or realm that they could imagine, was contained in books. And some of the children understood, and some did not.
The tulip and the butterfly_x000D_ _x000D_ Appear in gayer coats than I:_x000D_ _x000D_ Let me be dressed fine as I will,_x000D_ _x000D_ Flies, worms, and flowers exceed me still.
Nothing on earth is so weak and yielding as water, but for breaking down the firm and strong it has no equal.
Seafood is simply a socially acceptable form of bush meat. We condemn Africans for hunting monkeys and mammalian and bird species from the jungle yet the developed world thinks nothing of hauling in magnificent wild creatures like swordfish, tuna, halibut, shark, and salmon for our meals. The fact is that the global slaughter of marine wildlife is simply the largest massacre of wildlife on the planet.
The recent upsurge of public concern over environmental questions reflects a belated recognition that man has been too cavalier in his relations with nature. Unless we arrest the depredations that have been inflicted so carelessly on our natural systems-which exist in an intricate set of balances-we face the prospect of ecological disaster.
No one person has to do it all but if each one of us follow our heart and our own inclinations we will find the small things that we can do to create a sustainable future and a healthy environment.
That grand old poem called Winter
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