These woods are where silence has come to lick its wounds. — Samantha Hunt, Mr. Splitfoot
These woods are where silence has come to lick its wounds. — Samantha Hunt, Mr. Splitfoot
These woods are where silence has come to lick its wounds. — Samantha Hunt, Mr. Splitfoot
These woods are where silence has come to lick its wounds. — Samantha Hunt, Mr. Splitfoot
These woods are where silence has come to lick its wounds. — Samantha Hunt, Mr. Splitfoot
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These woods are where silence has come to lick its wounds.

— Samantha Hunt, Mr. Splitfoot
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More “Forest” Quotes

He liked the grand size of things in the woods, the feeling of being lost and far away, and the sense he had that with s — Denis Johnson, Train Dreams
Every falling leaf reminds me that I too will soon be separated from these trees. Trying to capture freedom is like tryi — Daniel J. Rice, This Side of a Wilderness
I have sometimes thought that the reason the trees are so quiet in the summer is that they are in a sort of ecstasy; it — Gene Wolfe, Peace
We don't want to focus on the trees (or their leaves) at the expense of the forest. — Douglas R. Hofstadter, I Am a Strange Loop
She was talking to a tree. Just talking to a tree. Totally normal. People probably did it every day here. They're only t — Ruth Frances Long, The Treachery of Beautiful Things
Love is like encountering a forest and having to chop down every tree but one. Oh, and you have to chop down each tree b — Dark Jar Tin Zoo, Love Quotes for the Ages. Specifically Ages 19-91.
I think people who don't know the woods very well sometimes imagine it as a kind of undifferentiated mass of greenery, a — Bill McKibben, Wandering Home: A Long Walk Across America's Most Hopeful Landscape: Vermont's Champlain Valley and New York's Adirondacks
The forest is only waiting for their signal to start trembling, hissing, and roaring from its depths. An enormous, love- — Louis-Ferdinand Céline, Journey to the End of the Night
Dorcas wasn't a fast walker. It was difficult for me to keep behind her. I tried to let others, joggers, and bicyclists, — Joyce Carol Oates, Beasts
The leaves drifted silently to the ground in the crisp autumn air. I inhaled deeply, the smell of burning bonfires far, — Emma Rose Kraus, A Blue One
My favourite road I've ever been on ain't paved. — Viktor Tatarczuk
Where there is poverty, there will be destruction and exploitation by the corporations and governments benefitting from — Eileen Anglin