Chaparral Quotes & Sayings

The thing about hiking the Pacific Crest Trail, the thing that was so profound to me that summer - and yet also, like most things, so very simple - was how few choices I had and how often I had to do the thing I least wanted to do. How there was no escape or denial. No numbing it down with a martini or covering it up with a roll in the hay. As I clung to the chaparral that day, attempting to patch up my bleeding finger, terrified by every sound that the bull was coming back, I considered my options. There were only two and they were essentially the same. I could go back in the direction I had come from, or I could go forward in the direction I intended to go. — Cheryl Strayed

Beneath and around the dead and ruined chaparral rise the most amazingly beautiful flowers. Tulips and wind poppies and flame poppies, whispering bells and suncups. These are flowers that grow only after a burn. Only in a land once dead. You never see them otherwise

When my eyes closed I can see those flowers now. They are a promise: that the land will regrow, that even after a disaster life continues, that wonders abound. k — Frances Wood

As I clung to the chaparral that day, attempting to patch up my bleeding finger, terrified by every sound that the bull was coming back, I considered my options. There were only two and they were essentially the same. I could go back in the direction I had come from, or I could go forward in the direction I intended to go. The bull, I acknowledged grimly, could be in either direction, since I hadn't seen where he'd run once I closed my eyes. I could only choose between the bull that would take me back and the bull that would take me forward. And so I walked on. — Cheryl Strayed

For most of the hours of the day - and most of the months of the year - the sun had the town trapped deep in dust, far out in the chaparral flats, a heaven for snakes and horned toads, roadrunners and stinging lizards, but a hell for pigs and Tennesseans. — Larry McMurtry

In our bones we need the natural curves of hills, the scent of chaparral, the whisper of pines, the possibility of wildness. — Richard Louv

It's going to be okay, Jacinda."
I angled my head. "So I won't be punished?"
"I convinced them that you wanted to return. I told them you're eager to fall back into pride life. That you'll behave yourself and be more compliant." His top lip curls faintly, and I remember what he told me in Chaparral when he found me, that he liked me because I was different from everyone else here. Now he wants me to be the same.
I inhale sharply through my nose. Compliant. Submissive. Meek. Biddable. Do I even have it in me?
"Compliant? Jacinda?" Az giggles, unaware of the tension. "They bought that? — Sophie Jordan

They pulled the wet saddles off the horses and hobbled them and walked off in separate directions through the chaparral to stand spraddle legged clutching their knees and vomiting. The browsing horses jerked their heads up. It was no sound they'd ever heard before. In the grey twilight those retchings seemed to echo like the calls of some rude provisional species loosed upon that waste. A thing smirking deep in the eyes of grace itself like a gorgon in an autumn pool. — Cormac McCarthy