„p>You said you would kill it this morning.Do not kill it. It startles me still,The jut of that odd, dark head, pacingThrough the uncut grass on the elm’s hill.It is something to own a pheasant,Or just to be visited at all.I am not mystical: it isn’tAs if I thought it had a spirit.It is simply in its element.That gives it a kingliness, a right.
— Sylvia Plath

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„p>My walk home was lengthened by a diversion in the direction of the kirk. When beneath its walls, I perceived decay had made progress, even in seven months - many a window showed black gaps deprived of glass; and slates jutted off, here and there, beyond the right line of the roof, to be gradually worked off in coming autumn storms.I sought, and soon discovered, the three head-stones on the slope next the moor - the middle one, gray, and half buried in heath - Edgar Linton's only harmonized by the turf and moss, creeping up its foot - Heathcliff's still bare.I lingered round them, under that benign sky; watched the moths fluttering among the heath and harebells; listened to the soft wind breathing through the grass; and wondered how any one could ever imagine unquiet slumbers for the sleepers in that quiet earth.
— Emily Brontë
„Presentiment is that long shadow on the lawnIndicative that suns go down;The notice to the startled grass That darkness is about to pass.“
— Emily Dickinson
„p>The grass so little has to do,—A sphere of simple green,With only butterflies to brood,And bees to entertain,And stir all day to pretty tunesThe breezes fetch along,And hold the sunshine in its lapAnd bow to everything;And thread the dews all night, like pearls,And make itself so fine,-A duchess were too commonFor such a noticing.And even when it dies, to passIn odors so divine,As lowly spices gone to sleep,Or amulets of pine.And then to dwell in sovereign barns,And dream the days away,—The grass so little has to do,I wish I were a hay!
— Emily Dickinson
„Personal columnists … are jackals and no jackal has been known to live on grass once he had learned about meat — no matter who killed the meat for him.“
— Ernest Hemingway
„Do you love this world?Do you cherish your humble and silky life?Do you adore the green grass, with its terror beneath?“
— Mary Oliver
„If civilization had been left in female hands, we would still be living in grass huts.“
— Camille Paglia