Cypress Vine Quotes

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The groves and thickets of smaller trees are full of blooming evergreen vines. These vines are not arranged in separate groups, or in delicate wreaths, but in bossy walls and heavy, mound-like heaps and banks. Am made to feel that I am now in a strange land. I know hardly any of the plants, but few of the birds, and I am unable to see the country for the solemn, dark, mysterious cypress woods which cover everything.
John Muir
Land and Sea The brilliant colors are the first thing that strike a visitor to the Greek Isles. From the stunning azure waters and blindingly white houses to the deep green-black of cypresses and the sky-blue domes of a thousand churches, saturated hues dominate the landscape. A strong, constant sun brings out all of nature’s colors with great intensity. Basking in sunshine, the Greek Isles enjoy a year-round temperate climate. Lemons grow to the size of grapefruits and grapes hang in heavy clusters from the vines of arbors that shade tables outside the tavernas. The silver leaves of olive trees shiver in the least sea breezes. The Greek Isles boast some of the most spectacular and diverse geography on Earth. From natural hot springs to arcs of soft-sand beaches and secret valleys, the scenery is characterized by dramatic beauty. Volcanic formations send craggy cliffsides plummeting to the sea, cause lone rock formations to emerge from blue waters, and carve beaches of black pebbles. In the Valley of the Butterflies on Rhodes, thousands of radiant winged creatures blanket the sky in summer. Crete’s Samaria Gorge is the longest in Europe, a magnificent natural wonder rife with local flora and fauna. Corfu bursts with lush greenery and wildflowers, nurtured by heavy rainfall and a sultry sun. The mountain ranges, gorges, and riverbeds on Andros recall the mainland more than the islands. Both golden beaches and rocky countrysides make Mykonos distinctive. Around Mount Olympus, in central Cyprus, timeless villages emerge from the morning mist of craggy peaks and scrub vegetation. On Evia and Ikaria, natural hot springs draw those seeking the therapeutic power of healing waters. Caves abound in the Greek Isles; there are some three thousand on Crete alone. The Minoans gathered to worship their gods in the shallow caves that pepper the remotest hilltops and mountain ranges. A cave near the town of Amnissos, a shrine to Eileithyia, goddess of childbirth, once revealed a treasure trove of small idols dedicated to her. Some caves were later transformed into monasteries. On the islands of Halki and Cyprus, wall paintings on the interiors of such natural monasteries survive from the Middle Ages. Above ground, trees and other flora abound on the islands in a stunning variety. ON Crete, a veritable forest of palm trees shades the beaches at Vai and Preveli, while the high, desolate plateaus of the interior gleam in the sunlight. Forest meets sea on the island of Poros, and on Thasos, many species of pine coexist. Cedars, cypress, oak, and chestnut trees blanket the mountainous interiors of Crete, Cyprus, and other large islands. Rhodes overflows with wildflowers during the summer months. Even a single island can be home to disparate natural wonders. Amorgos’ steep, rocky coastline gives way to tranquil bays. The scenery of Crete--the largest of the Greek Isles--ranges from majestic mountains and barren plateaus to expansive coves, fertile valleys, and wooded thickets.
Laura Brooks (Greek Isles (Timeless Places))
I'd like to grasp the word home, and with it barricade sorrow's path as I devise another road. Life's vines demand irrigation, but I want to drink tomorrow's worries like wine. I'd like to flush even shadows from moon's fountain; to paint cypress trees and meadows fortune-green. If I invite the sun to this scene, the light will reveal that my garden is the envy of jewels. Time will write the tale of my life's toil; but I'd like to fill history's chest with gold. If my voice could be celebrated, my songs nursed, I'd gild every notebook with elegant verse.
نادیا انجمن
I'd like to grasp the word hope, and with it barricade sorrow's path as I devise another road. Life's vines demand irrigation, but I want to drink tomorrow's worries like wine. I'd like to flush even shadows from moon's fountain; to paint cypress trees and meadows fortune-green. If I invite the sun to this scene, the light will reveal that my garden is the envy of jewels. Time will write the tale of my life's toil; but I'd like to fill history's chest with gold. If my voice could be celebrated, my songs nursed, I'd gild every notebook with elegant verse.
نادیا انجمن
Goatherd, when you turn the corner by the oaks you'll see a freshly carved statue in fig wood. The bark is not peeled off. It is legless, earless, but strongly equipped with a dynamic phallus to perform the labor of Aphrodite. A holy hedge runs around the precinct where a perennial brook spills down from upper rocks and feeds a luxuriance of bay, myrtle and fragrant cypress trees. A grape vine pours its tendrils along a branch, and spring blackbirds echo in pure transparency of sound to high nightingales who echo back with pungent honey. Come, sit down, and beg Priapos to end my love for Daphnis. Butcher a young goat in sacrifice. If he will not, I make three vows: I will slay a young cow, a shaggy goat and a darling lamb I am raising. May God hear you and assent.
Theocritus
Mississippi: The rich deep black alluvial soil which would grow cotton taller than the head of a man on a horse, already one jungle one brake one impassable density of brier and cane and vine interlocking the soar of gum and cypress and hickory and pinoak and ash, printed now by the tracks of unalien shapes—bear and deer and panthers and bison and wolves and alligators and the myriad smaller beasts, and unalien men to name them too perhaps—the (themselves) nameless though recorded predecessors who built the mounds to escape the spring floods and left their meagre artifacts: the obsolete and the dispossessed, dispossessed by those who were dispossessed in turn because they too were obsolete: the wild Algonquian, Chickasaw and Choctaw and Natchez and Pascagoula, peering in virgin astonishment down from the tall bluffs at a Chippeway canoe bearing three Frenchmen—and had barely time to whirl and look behind him at ten and then a hundred and then a thousand Spaniards
William Faulkner (Big Woods: The Hunting Stories (Vintage International))
This exuberant beauty was in the damp spring stars. In the many years of cold rain rippling across the screen of cypresses. In the brambles and the rose bushes. In the rabbit nibbling its way through the garden and the doves murmuring in the vines and shade. In the alpine valleys. In the bays and among the highlands. In the clouds and the eagles, the wind, and the rising sun. In the roots of the chestnut tree, in the ferns and the ghost pipe, in the spores of lion’s mane, in the sterile conk of chaga. In the rocky cliffs that rose sovereign. In the rocks over which mountain goats leaped. In the trenches of seaweed. In the crushed stones and shells from the beach. In the brush-covered resting places of deer. In the hulks and ruins of empty estates, abandoned and alone with lichen on the stucco. In the towns glistening in the heat and in the cheerful, serene sound of cathedral bells. In automobiles and pedestrians. In the children and the old people.
Brandon W. Teigland (Metapatterning for Disconnection)
How about this one?" I pointed to a graceful, feathery vine with small, delicate, star-shaped red blooms. "That's a cypress vine," he said. "Ipomoea quamoclit. It's an escapee and not native to her garden. People think it's an annual, but with a little help from nature, it's self-seeding ability means it can pop up in new places year after year and thrive far away from its original home." Something niggled at the back of my mind. If the vine could escape and start over again somewhere new, why couldn't a person? If Jack's grandmother's plants were strong enough to survive neglect, why couldn't I?
Sara Desai (To Have and to Heist)