450 Quotes About Mountains

The great Rocky Mountains, softly shaded ingray, were submerged in a sea of fluffy white clouds, feathery wisps enveloping the peaks like a kingdom of the air.

By sunlight or moonlight, its splintered grey crest is the one object which, in spire of wapitu and bighorn, skunk and grizzli, unfailingly arrests the eyes. From it come all storms of snow and wind, and the forked lightnings play around its head like a glory. It is one of he noblest of mountains, but in one's imagination it grows to be much more than a mountain. It becomes invested with a personality.

I had discovered that I am the kind of person who cannot live comfortably, tolerably, on all-flat terrain. For the sake of inner equilibrium there has to be at least one mountain range on at least one of the four quarters of my horizon-and not more than a day’s walk away.

The Rockies are therefore very young and should never be thought of as ancient. They are still in the process of building and eroding, and no one today can calculate what they will look like ten million years from now. They have the extravagant beauty of youth, the allure of adolescence, and they are mountains to be loved.

Amidst the blue ridge mountains, there are remarkable expressions of life. Tapestries woven by generations that are always on trial by those who amputate hope from what once was native land. Digesting each day, the unpleasant taste of yesterday's homemade buttermilk.

The deodar enjoys the company of its own kind: Where one deodar grows, there will be others. A walk in a deodar forest is awe-inspiring -- surrounded on all sides by these great sentinels of the mountains, you feel as though the trees themselves are on the march.

A peeling sign appeared from behind an untrimmed hedge. Bertha Mountain Bed and Breakfast. The cross-timbered cabin had a quaint, storybook quality, with overhanging eaves and deeply recessed windows. Like the rest of the town, it was a place out of time, a half-step behind the busy pace of the world.

Fawn supposed Black's treaty had been made long ago. He was tall and unwavering, like one of the shaded lighthouses scattered across Cadoett's waters. How many ships were still lost? How many sailors never made it home? Black was resolute, and the mountain appeared to empower him.

Smoky hills that loomed like ogres.