Go forth under the open sky and list To Nature's teachings.
The earth itself is their church; the vast open sky its ceiling.
Every man is better for a period of work under the open sky.
Music is like an open sky. You know it's out there... and there you are.
Kindness has no religion. Religions are like narrow tracks but kindness is like an open sky.
There is extraordinary similarities between the Midwest in America and Europe in that there is this sense of vast open sky and loneliness and cold.
Earth is sad Moon is shy Sun is happy but wait a moment I just forgot to tell you that I am the child of open sky.
A clear stream a long horizon a forest wilderness and open sky - these are man's most ancient possessions. In a modern society they are his most priceless.
He'd lived so long in anticipation of his own death that to contemplate his future was like standing at the edge of a cliff staring into a vertiginous rush of open sky.
... the open sky sits upon our senses like a sapphire crown - the Air is our robe of state - the Earth is our throne and the Sea a mighty minstrel playing before it.
I love to write out of doors and sleep out of doors too. If I sleep under the open sky it becomes part of the writing experience part of my insulation from the world.
It's hard to know which stars in the sky will turn into black holes. And which ones will open up worm holes into entire new universes.
I want my words to open a portal through which the reader may leave the self migrate to some other human sky and return 'disposed' to otherness.
Not a breath of air stirred over the free and open prairie; the clouds were like light piles of cotton; and where the blue sky was visible it wore a hazy and languid aspect.
The first time I saw America was from my perch on the mast of a Spanish naval ship where I could spot the Statue of Liberty reaching proudly into the open endless American sky.
Flowers open every night across the sky a breathing peace and sudden flame catching.
Throw open your window and let the scenery of clouds and sky enter your room.
A poem is a cup of words open to the sky and wind in a bucket.
Sometimes at night I would sleep open-eyed underneath a sky dripping with stars. I was alive then.
I am alone again and I want to be so; alone with the pure sky and open sea.
In blue Light nature space the whole world wide grazing land the open spaces wind across the land and the sky blue high
I looked up at the mass of signs and stars in the night sky and laid myself open for the first time to the benign indifference of the world.