All beauty is truth, and all truth is compassionate. Few know that; fewer still can express it. — Henry Williamson Copy Share Image
The tides which flow and lapse in the Bristol Channel are often distained by the freshets of many streams falling through wooded coombes below… — Henry Williamson Copy Share Image
The slow rhythm of the body, the insistent rhythm of the wit, were they becoming irreconcilable in modern civilisation? The sedentary life, frustration and… — Henry Williamson Copy Share Image
“Whatv is thisnlife, if, full of care, we have no time to stand and stare?” — Henry Williamson Copy Share Image
Regeneration can come only through a change of heart in the individual. — Henry Williamson Copy Share Image
I must return to my old comrades of the Great War - to the brown, the treeless, the flat and grave-set plain of Flanders… — Henry Williamson Copy Share Image
“Whatv is this life, if, full of care, we have no time to stand and stare?” — Henry Williamson Copy Share Image
If salt ocean is the Great Mother from whom all life has sprung, fresh water is the Nurse entrusted to nourish life within her… — Henry Williamson Copy Share Image
The eldest and biggest of the litter was a dog cub, and when he drew his first breath he was less than five inches… — Henry Williamson Copy Share Image
True idealists are rare; they are the dedicated workers, who would, if need be, die at the stake. — Henry Williamson Copy Share Image
Yet otters have not been hunters in water long enough for the habit to become an instinct. — Henry Williamson Copy Share Image
Every gesture is a gesture from the blood, every expression a symbolic utterance... Everything is of the blood, of the senses. — Henry Williamson Copy Share Image
Music comes from an icicle as it melts, to live again as spring water. — Henry Williamson Copy Share Image
When the soil's fertility is being conserved instead of raped, when village life is a social unity, when pride of craftsmanship returns, when everyone… — Henry Williamson Copy Share Image
Since childhood she had walked the Devon rivers with her father looking for flowers and the nests of birds, passing some rocks and trees… — Henry Williamson Copy Share Image
