It was one January morning, very earlya pinching, frosty morningthe cove all grey with hoar-frost, the ripple lapping softly on the stones, the sun still low and only touching the hilltops and shining far to seaward.
~
Treasure Island
by
Robert Louis Stevenson
"The study of Nature makes a man at last as remorseless as Nature."
~
The Island of Doctor Moreau
by
H. G. Wells
It was a beautiful summer afternoon, at that delicious period of the year when summer has just burst forth from the growth of spring; when the summer is yet but three days old, and all the various shades of green which nature can put forth are still in their unsoiled purity of freshness.
~
Framley Parsonage
by
Anthony Trollope
Nature takes no account of moral consequences.
~
The Awakening
by
Kate Chopin
They never pulled the curtains till it was too dark to see, nor shut the windows till it was too cold. Why shut out the day before it was over? The flowers were still bright; the birds chirped. You could see more in the evening often when nothing interrupted, when there was no fish to order, no telephone to answer.
~
Between the Acts
by
Virginia Woolf
The sigh of all the seas breaking in measure round the isles soothed them; the night wrapped them; nothing broke their sleep, until, the birds beginning and the dawn weaving their thin voices in to its whiteness.
~
To the Lighthouse
by
Virginia Woolf
"Everything is made out of Magic, leaves and trees, flowers and birds, badgers and foxes and squirrels and people. So it must be all around us. In this garden-in all the places."
~
The Secret Garden
by
Frances Hodgson Burnett
Nothing in the world is quite as adorably lovely as a robin when he shows off-and they are nearly always doing it.
~
The Secret Garden
by
Frances Hodgson Burnett
It was, in short, on one of those mornings, when it is hot and cold, wet and dry, bright and lowering, sad and cheerful, withering and genial, in the compass of one short hour.
~
Barnaby Rudge
by
Charles Dickens
Beyond the fence the forest stood up spectrally in the moonlight, and through that dim stir, through the faint sounds of that lamentable courtyard, the silence of the land went home to one's very heart—its mystery, its greatness, the amazing reality of its concealed life.
~
Heart of Darkness
by
Joseph Conrad