Nature (n.) cannot wisely be controlled the way it was studied, piecemeal: it is relational through and through, and every interference ripples endlessly.
Nature (n.) looks endlessly hungry for survival because of how we study it: cut it to pieces, and it seems a heap of fragments craving more.
Nature (n.) sets out on a long journey at every moment and at every moment arrives; knowing no past or future, her present is eternity.
Nature (n.) restores us to a sane level of ourselves because birds and beasts eat and breed devotedly without pretending it serves higher ends.
Nature (n.) in all its bewildering complexity is a dance with no destination but the figures now being performed, improvised in answer to each other.
Nature (n.) lets us at last move unmoved, once we stand with it and see there is nowhere to stand against it.
Nature (n.) in Sung painting is a world man belongs to but does not dominate — sufficient to itself, made for no one, with no purpose of its own.
Nature (n.) has no problems: pursuing no purpose, it meets no difficulties — only logic has problems.
Nature (n.) does not conform to a pattern; it is one — the idea that law comes before behavior is the ancient notion that God told the universe what to do.
Nature (n.) is, in the mechanistic myth, a profoundly stupid mechanism — brute matter and blind energy everywhere outside human skins.
Nature (n.) is, to the Chinese, the "self-so": what moves by itself without being shoved, wound up or controlled by conscious effort.
Nature (n.) will never "stay put": it is like a beautiful woman who can never be caught, and whose flightiness is her charm.
Nature (n.) has an under side that lives within man too: the ocean's clammy depths, swamp reptiles, spiders and scorpions, and the horror they give him, are also "I."
Nature (n.) is this world as it is named, measured and classified — the world thought has sorted into groups called "things."
Nature (n.) gives the duck short legs and the crane long ones, and to lengthen or shorten either would only hurt the bird.
Nature (n.) is more playful than purposeful, and having no special goals for the future is no defect in it.
Nature (n.) works more like art than business, politics or religion — like music and dance, which unfold without heading anywhere.
Nature (n.) is the greater and perhaps better half of ourselves — sky, earth, water, our own bodies — which we still buffet blindly with bulldozers.
Nature (n.) at any moment is a simultaneity of patterns, which is why a picture-language sits a little closer to it than an alphabet.
Nature (n.) was, for the old swimmer of the cataract, simply habit grown deep enough: he grew up on the water and fitted himself to it.