Between every two pine trees there is a door leading to a new way of life.— John Muir
Valuable Arbor Day quotations
Some days I wish I could go back in life. Not to change anything, but to feel a few things twice.
Arbor Day is not like other holidays.
Each of those reposes on the past, while Arbor Day proposes for the future.
Like the trees, we are visitors, guests of the earth.
One day, you will wake up and there won't be any more time to do the thing you've always wanted. Do it now.
I frequently tramped eight or ten miles through the deepest snow to keep an appointment with a beechtree, or a yellow birch, or an old acquaintance among the pines.
No man manages his affairs as well as a tree does
I think that I shall never see A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest Against the earth's sweet flowing breast.
I fear the day that technology will surpass our human interaction. The world will have a generation of idiots.
Between every two pines is a doorway to a new world.
Trees are poems the earth writes upon the sky, We fell them down and turn them into paper, That we may record our emptiness.
What did the tree learn from the earth to be able to talk with the sky?
A little progress each day adds up to bg results.
He who plants a tree, plants a hope.
The wonder is that we can see these trees and not wonder more.
Poems are made by fools like me, But only God can make a tree
There comes a day when you realize turning the page is the best feeling in the world, because you realize there is so much more to the book than the page you were stuck on.
Of all man's works of art, a cathedral is greatest. A vast and majestic tree is greater than that.
To be poor and be without trees, is to be the most starved human being in the world. To be poor and have trees, is to be completely rich in ways that money can never buy.
God cannot save them from fools.
Isn't it funny how day by day nothing changes, but when you look back everything is different.
If I thought I was going to die tomorrow, I should nevertheless plant a tree today.
Thanksgiving is the holiday that encompasses all others.
All of them, from Martin Luther King Day to Arbor Day to Christmas to Valentine's Day, are in one way or another about being thankful.
No wonder the hills and groves were God's first temples, and the more they are cut down and hewn into cathedrals and churches, the farther off and dimmer seems the Lord himself.
Enjoy the little things, for one day you may look back and realize they were the big things.
A people without children would face a hopeless future;
a country without trees is almost as helpless.
The cultivation of trees is the cultivation of the good, the beautiful and the ennobling in man.
I drove across country in my yellow 1970 VW bug (which I drove until 1986) to Los Angeles, having had enough cold weather in 5 years in Ann Arbor, and found a job within a few days.
Look for something positive in every day, even if some days you have to look a little harder.
The school children of New York State planted more than 200,000 trees within ten years from the time Arbor Day was recognized. Few similar efforts in years have been more thoroughly commendable than the effort to get our people practically to show their appreciation of the beauty and usefulness of trees.
You can gauge a country's wealth, its real wealth, by its tree cover.
When trees burn, they leave the smell of heartbreak in the air.
There are seven days in the week and someday isn't one of them.
... beauty, like ecstasy, has always been hostile to the commonplace. And the commonplace, under its popular label of the normal,has been the supreme authority for Homo sapiens since the days when he was probably arboreal.
The great object to be attained through the observance of Arbor Day is the cultivation of a love for nature among children, with the confident expectation that thereby the needless de-struction of the forests will be stayed, and the improvement of grounds about school buildings and residences will be promoted.
O days remember'd well! remember'd all! The bitter sweet, the honey and the gall; Those garden rambles in the silent night, Those trees so shady, and that moon se bright, That thickset alley by the arbor clos'd, That woodbine seat where we at last repos'd; And then the hopes that came and then were gone, Quick as the clouds beneath the moon past on.