Roe Deer Quotes

My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here; My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer; A-chasing the wild-deer, and following the roe, My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go.

My Heart's In The Highlands Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North, The birth-place of Valour, the country of Worth; Wherever I wander, wherever I rove, The hills of the Highlands for ever I love. Chorus.-My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here, My heart's in the Highlands, a-chasing the deer; Chasing the wild-deer, and following the roe, My heart's in the Highlands, wherever I go. Farewell to the mountains, high-cover'd with snow, Farewell to the straths and green vallies below; Farewell to the forests and wild-hanging woods, Farewell to the torrents and loud-pouring floods. My heart's in the Highlands, &c.

Tired of all who come with words, words but no language I went to the snow-covered island. The wild does not have words. The unwritten pages spread themselves out in all directions! I come across the marks of roe-deer's hooves in the snow. Language, but no words.

Roe Deer, when your spirit returns to the Great Earth Mother, thank Her for giving us one of your kind, that we may eat,” Jondalar said quietly.

Adults called it the nursery. Willy had the larger half, with a double bed, a good-sized basin, a cupboard with mirrored doors, a beautiful window looking down on the courtyard, the fountain, the bronze statue of a roe deer buck. My half of the room was far smaller, less luxurious. I never asked why. I didn’t care. But I also didn’t need to ask. Two years older than me, Willy was the Heir, whereas I was the Spare.

For the author as for God, standing outwith his creation, all times are one; all times are now. In mine own country, we accept as due and right – as very meet, right, and our bounden duty – the downs and their orchids and butterflies, the woods and coppices, ash, beech, oak, and field maple, rowan, wild cherry, holly, and hazel, bluebells in their season and willow, alder, and poplar in the wetter ground. We accept as proper and unremarkable the badger and the squirrel, the roe deer and the rabbit, the fox and the pheasant, as the companions of our walks and days. We remark with pleasure, yet take as granted, the hedgerow and the garden, the riot of snowdrops, primroses, and cowslips, the bright flash of kingfishers, the dart of swallows and the peaceful homeliness of house martins, the soft nocturnal glimmer of glow worm and the silent nocturnal swoop of owl.

fountain, the bronze statue of a roe deer buck. My half of the room was far smaller, less luxurious. I never asked why. I didn’t care. But I also didn’t need to ask.

In the words of the Mongolian creation myth: ‘There came a wild dog who was blue and gray and whose destiny was imposed on him by the heavens. His mate was a roe deer.Thus begins another love story. The wild dog with his courage and strength, the doe with her gentleness, intuition, and elegance. Hunter and hunted meet and love each other. According to the laws of nature, one should destroy the other, but in love there is neither good nor evil, there is neither construction nor destruction, there is merely movement. And love changes the laws of nature.

My heart’s in the Highlands, my heart is not here, My heart’s in the Highlands a-chasing the deer; A-chasing the wild deer, and following the roe, My heart’s in the Highlands wherever I go.

Or awa’ upon Islay, in January, the wind was honed to a cutting edge across the queer flatness of Loch Gorm and the strand and fields ’round. The roe deer had taken shelter in good time and the brown trout had sought deeper waters. An auld ram alone huddled against the wind, that had swept clear the skies even of eagle, windcuffer, and goose. The scent of saltwater rode the wind over the freshwater loch, and the dry field-grasses rattled, and there was the memory of peat upon the air: a whisky wind in Islay. The River Leòig was forced back upon itself as the wind whipped the loch to whitecaps; only the cairn and the Standing Stones stood unyielding in the blast as of old.

to shriek and to slam the door shut repeatedly—with a deafening clang each time—until the keeper, notified by a visitor, hurried over to remedy the situation. A herd of roe-deer in a European zoo stepped out of their corral when the gate was left open. Frightened by visitors, the deer bolted for the nearby forest, which had its own herd of wild roe-deer and could support more. Nonetheless,

Once I shot a roe-deer and then, when we were about to give it a closer look, drag to our pickup truck and talk about dividing its part for meat, we heard a sad cry. That was a baby roe we didn’t notice before, hidden beneath a dense bush. Her skinny legs were shaking as she looked at us and the body. We killed her mother and left the poor animal alone in the wild. As soon as I realized that and heard the cry, I felt warm tears dropping down my cheeks. I felt shame that is impossible to even express and then started to cry like a little kid.

The country or province of Sutherland abounds in corn, grass, woods, fruit beasts, all kinds of wildfowl, deer and roe; all sorts of fish, especially salmon, and all other commodities which are usual in this kingdom of Scotland, or necessary for man.

The Sky is full to the brim with autumn as the season makes its way to across it. It is as if I had no worries at all. so I could count all the stars nestled in autumn. Yet i cannot quite finish counting all those stars that are settling in my heart one by one, because mornings have a way of coming swiftly, because tomorrow's night is still to come, and because the fire of my heart hasn't burn out yet. I see memories in one star and love in another and loneliness my longings and poetry in each and Mother in another, Mother. Mother, I am trying to call out a beautiful word for each star. Names of the kids I shared desk with in a grade school, such foreign girls names as Pae, Kyeong, Ok, and the girls who have become mothers already, my poor neighbors, the doves, puppies, rabbits, mules, roe deer, Francies Jammes and Rheiner Maria Rilke - I call such names of poets. They are all so far away from me. Just as the stars are ever distant. And mother, you are in North Gando which is so far away. Longing for something I couldn't name, I wrote my own name on this hill which is bright with all the starlight landing, but then I covered it up again with dirt. True, some insects chirp through the night because they lament their shameful names. Yet when spring comes around to my star after winter, even on this hill where my name is buried, shrubs will grow thick as if boasting like the green grass that sprouts on a grave.