On Wenlock Edge the wood’s in trouble;
His forest fleece the Wrekin heaves;
The gale, it plies the saplings double,
And thick on Severn snow the leaves.

Deep in the forest a call was sounding, and as often as he heard this call, mysteriously thrilling and luring, he felt compelled to turn his back upon the fire and the beaten earth around it, and to plunge into the forest, and on and on, he knew not where or why; nor did he wonder where or why, the call sounding imperiously, deep in the forest. But as often as he gained the soft unbroken earth and the green shade, the love for John Thornton drew him back to the fire again.

The master rode alone that day; and in the woods, side by side, White Fang ran with Collie, as his mother, Kiche, and old One Eye had run long years before in the silent Northland forest.

Sometimes he pursued the call into the forest, looking for it as though it were a tangible thing, barking softly or defiantly… Irresistible impulses seized him. he would be lying in camp, dozing lazily in the heat of the day, when suddenly his head would lift and his ears cock up, intent and listening, and he would spring on his feet and dash away, and on and on, for hours, though the forest aisles.

But it did not all happen in a day, this giving over of himself, body and soul, to the man-animals. He could not immediately forego his wild heritage and his memories of the Wild. There were days when he crept to the edge of the forest and stood and listened to something calling him far and away.

You know in my own area of Waltham Forest, we’ve had many murders as a result of the gang violence and often innocent bystanders get caught up in it.

Dark spruce forest frowned on either side the frozen waterway. The trees had been stripped by a recent wind of their white covering of frost, and they seemed to lean towards each other, black and ominous, in the fading light.

For some people, I will be Forrest Gump for the rest of my life. But that’s OK; that’s a good thing.

It’s your fault, Eeyore. You’ve never been to see any of us. You just stay here in this one corner of the Forest waiting for the others to come to you. Why don’t you go to THEM sometimes?

One might say I have decided to marry the silence of the forest. The sweet dark warmth of the whole world will have to be my wife

Wherever they go, and whatever happens to them on the way, in that enchanted place on the top of the forest, a little boy and his Bear will always be playing.

I am a forest, and a night of dark trees: but he who is not afraid of my darkness, will find banks full of roses under my cypresses.

There is no more wild, free, vigorous growth of the forest, but everything is in pots or rows like a rococo garden… The pupil is in the age of spontaneous variation which at no period of life is so great. He does not want a standardized, overpeptonized mental diet. It palls on his appetite.

If you tell a joke in the forest, but nobody laughs, was it a joke?

If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to see it, do the other trees make fun of it?

They say that there are many saints in Tibet who remain in solitude and are still very helpful to the world… “It can be so. Realisation of the Self is the greatest help that can be rendered to humanity. Therefore, the saints are said to be helpful, though they remain in forests. But it should not be forgotten that solitude is not in forest only. It can be had even in towns, in the thick of worldly occupations.

The creation of a thousand forests is in one acorn

The world’s forests are a shared stolen treasure that we must put back for our children’s future.

To make knowledge productive, we will have to learn to see both forest and tree. We will have to learn to connect.

The mornings along the coast where the fog and mist meet with the salty spray of the seas is one of my favourite smells. I love the smell in the evergreen forest just after it rains – The Redwood Forest in California has the coast, too, so you have the best of everything.