Nature (n.) does not deceive or conceal, but reveals.
Nature (n.) draws men out to admire mountains and seas — and turn away from themselves.
Nature (n.) is always two-faced: the fire that blesses also destroys, like the God of Job.
Nature (n.) loved pantheistically or aesthetically is, looked at retrospectively, a reblending with the mother — nature usurped her place and took over the first sounds we heard from her.
Nature (n.) is a womb of eternal germination — a potential life containing every possibility without the labour of giving them shape; the gods' enviable prerogative of everlasting infancy.
Nature (n.) is the object par excellence, reflecting all the unconscious contents we are not aware of — a maiden's ankle glimpsed, and the whole seashore grows bright.
Nature (n.) is often obscure or impenetrable, but she is not, like man, deceitful — so the dream is just what it pretends to be.
Nature (n.) is aristocratic — but not by reserving development for the gifted; moral qualities can make up for intellectual shortcomings.
Nature (n.) cannot be returned to: even when we turn back to it with a Rousseauesque longing, we 'cultivate' nature — instinct seeks to perpetuate nature, consciousness only culture or its denial.
Nature (n.) has a formal factor, which certain dreams insist on: carved human heads found in half-million-year-old rock that no human hand could have made — a natural product coinciding with a human idea.
Nature (n.) is conservative: she stubbornly defends the preserves where anima and animus roam.
Nature (n.) is good in all things, as we can hand it to Augustine — just not good enough to keep its badness from being equally obvious.
Nature (n.) rejoices in nature; nature subdues nature; nature rules over nature.
Nature (n.) is no guide, for she does not exist for man's sake; ships steer not by magnetism but by a compass, and a corrected one at that, since the needle is not even true to north.
Nature (n.) outraged by reason only waits for the partition to fall, to take her revenge on conscious life.
Nature (n.) is aristocratic and even esoteric: what Jove may do, the ox may not — an unpleasant but eternal truth.
Nature (n.) is ruthless and answers to no ethical law — and Yahweh, its creator, admits to being an amoral force of nature too, a personality unable to see its own back.
Nature (n.) was still, in Ripley's age, the dwelling of God and his mysteries, and the drama of redemption was at work on every level of existence, in untroubled, paradisal participation with matter.
Nature (n.) cannot in the long run be violated: seeping through everything like water, its facts will undermine any system that ignores them.
Nature (n.) knows nothing of moral squalor — her truths are alarming enough.