Oregon Quotes

“Oregon welcomed me like a beloved child, enfolded me in her cool arms, shushed my turbulent thoughts, and promised peace through her whispering pines. ”
― Colleen Houck

“With each passing day, I allowed myself to become a little more intoxicated by limitless possibilities which seemed sometimes to roll in with the fog, murmur suggestions that would have made me run yelling from them had I been anywhere [other than San Francisco], then leave me to cope with that special brand of terror bestowed by sweet and sour tastes of freedom.”
― Aberjhani, Greeting Flannery O'Connor at the Back Door of My Mind

“An owl is mostly air.”
― Ursula K. Le Guin, Out Here: Poems and Images from Steens Mountain Country

“A lake so vibrant in color that it looks like a fine art painting.”
― Stefanie Payne, A Year in the National Parks: The Greatest American Road Trip

“Oregon was discovered when someone followed the Oregon Trail right out to the end.”
― Richard Armour, It All Started with Columbus

“How many times must I tell all of you! Sky, ground, or target. Damn it, you don't point a gun at another person unless you are prepared to kill that person." He scowled at Ona. "A careless accident could cost one of you a husband. I've told you from the beginning. The Oregon men won't accept a crippled wife. They insist on brides who are healthy and whole.”
― Maggie Osborne, Brides of Prairie Gold

“By the time the plane touched down in Portland, we had obtained signed, handwritten confessions from both criminals. They planned on hitting it rich in Vegas using the payroll money as a grub-stake. Now, the were broke, busted and bound for an Oregon jail. I often marveled at the criminal mentality. Sometimes because of their sick perversity, sometimes because of their rare ingenuity, and sometimes because they just didn’t get it; that crime doesn’t pay. You can’t do bad and get good in return.”
― Don Dupay, Behind the Badge in River City: A Portland Police Memoir

“I spent my 53rd birthday at the Oregon State Hospital Museum of Mental Health.”
― Steven Magee

“There's something about the mountains of Oregon in the late summer, when the sun is hot, the wind warm, and the air is just reeking with opportunity. It's a grand place for children to run free, noses freckled and hair bleached, the chalky dust coating their bare feet. So many places to explore, so many adventures to be had.”
― LaKaysha Stenersen, Strength in Measure

“The little car was soon free of the city, for the smear of suburbia that had once lain along the western highways for miles was gone. During the Plague Years of the eighties, when in some areas not one person in twenty remained alive, the suburbs were not a good place to be. Miles from the supermart, no gas for the car, and all the split-level ranch homes around you full of the dead. No help, no food. Packs of huge status-symbol dogs—Afghans, Alsatians, Great Danes—running wild across the lawns ragged with burdock and plantain. Picture window cracked. Who’ll come and mend the broken glass? People had huddled back into the old core of the city; and once the suburbs had been looted, they burned. Like Moscow in 1812, acts of God or vandalism: they were no longer wanted, and they burned. Fireweed, from which bees make the finest honey of all, grew acre after acre over the sites of Kensington Homes West, Sylvan Oak Manor Estates, and Valley Vista Park.”
― Ursula K. Le Guin, The Lathe of Heaven

“There are halibut as big as doors in the ocean down below the town, flapskimming on the murky ocean floor with vast skates and rays and purple crabs and black cod large as logs, and sea lions slashing through the whip-forests of bull kelp and eelgrass and sugar wrack, and seals in the rockweed and giant perennial kelp and iridescent kelp and iridescent fish and luminous shrimp too small to see with the naked eye but billions of which feed the gray whales which slide hugely slowly by like rubbery zeppelins twice a year, north in spring and south in fall.

Salmonberries, thimbleberries, black raspberries, gooseberries, bearberries, snowberries, salal berries, elderberries, blackberries along the road and by the seasonal salt marshes north and south.

The ground squirrels burrow along the dirt banks of the back roads, their warren of mysterious holes, the thick scatter of fine brown soil before their doorsteps, the flash of silver-gray on their back fur as they rocket into the bushes; the bucks and does and fawns in the road in the morning, their springy step as they slip away from the gardens they have been eating; the bobcat seen once, at dusk, its haunches jacked up like a teenager's hot-rodding car; the rumor of cougar in the hills; the coyotes who use the old fire road in the hills; the tiny mice and bats one sometimes finds long dead and leathery like ancient brown paper; the little frenetic testy chittering skittering cheeky testy chickaree squirrels in the spruces and pines - Douglas squirrels, they are, their very name remembering that young gentleman botanist who wandered near these hills centuries ago.

The herons in marshes and sinks and creeks and streams and on the beach sometimes at dusk; and the cormorants and pelicans and sea scoters and murres (poor things so often dead young on the beach after the late-spring fledging) and jays and crows and quorking haunted ravens (moaning Poe! Poe! at dusk) especially over the wooded hills, and the goldfinches mobbing thistles in the meadowed hills, and sometimes a falcon rocketing by like a gleeful murderous dream, and osprey of all sizes all along the Mink like an osprey police lineup, and the herring gulls and Caspian terns and arctic terns, and the varied thrushes in wet corners of thickets, and the ruffed grouse in the spruce by the road, and the quail sometimes, and red-tailed hawks floating floating floating; from below they look like kites soaring brownly against the piercing blue sky, which itself is a vast creature bluer by the month as summer deepens into crispy cold fall.”
― Brian Doyle, Mink River: A Novel

“my books won't take me far
into this place”
― Ursula K. Le Guin, Out Here: Poems and Images from Steens Mountain Country

“Today we traveled back south toward Portland, Oregon. It occurred to me that we were now going toward our home in Florida instead of away from it.
Maybe this concept was why I was feeling unenthusiastic and worn out.”
― Susan Straley, Alzheimer's Trippin' with George: Diagnosis to Discovery in 10,000 Miles

“The object of all who came to Oregon in early times was to avail themselves of the privilege of a donation claim, and my opinion to-day is that every man and woman fully earned and merited all they got, but we have a small class of very small people here now who have no good word for the old settler that so bravely met every danger and privation, and by hard toil acquired, and careful economy, saved the means to make them comfortable during the decline of life. These, however are degenerate scrubs, too cowardly to face the same dangers that our pioneer men and women did, and too lazy to perform an honest day’s work if it would procure them a homestead in paradise. They would want the day reduced to eight hours and board thrown in.”
― Arthur A. Denny, Pioneer Days on Puget Sound

“Mauro Wojcikiewicz is an experienced science teacher who is based in Oregon. He has worked in the education sector for his entire life and enjoys the chance he has to inspire future generations of scientists. Mauro Wojcikiewicz would like to continue working in education as he adores the challenges that each new day presents him with. At present, he teaches in middle school.”
― Mauro Wojcikiewicz

“The attitude of Oregon pioneers toward the Indians was recorded by Father John Beeson, one of the early settlers. Of his fellows, most of whom were from Missouri, he wrote: ‘Among them it was customary to speak of the Indian man as a buck, the woman as a squaw, until at length, in the general acceptance of the terms, they ceased to recognize the rights of humanity in those to whom they were so applied. By a natural and easy transition, from being spoken of as brutes, they came to be thought of as game to be shot or vermin to be destroyed.’

Any white man found dead was assumed to have been murdered by Indians, and often his death was made an excuse for raiding the nearest Indian village and killing all the men, women, and children found there. In one instance an elderly white miner who had refused to participate in such raids was called on by a score of men and forced to join them. Father Beeson related, ‘After resting on the mountains, they shot him, cut off his head, leaving it on the limb of a tree, and divided his property among themselves.”
― Wayne Gard, Frontier Justice

“Eugenians are proud of the regional bounty and were passionate about incorporating local, seasonal, and organic ingredients well before it was back in vogue. Anglers are kept busy in fresh waters, fishing for wild chinook salmon in the spring and steelhead in the summer, and sweet Dungeness crab is abundant in the estuaries year-round. Local farmers gather every Saturday downtown to sell homegrown organic produce and honey, foraged mushrooms, and wild berries. The general demographic is of hippies who protest Whole Foods in favor of local co-ops, wear Birkenstocks, weave hair wraps to sell at outdoor markets, and make their own nut butter. They are men with birth names like Herb and River and women called Forest and Aurora.”
― Michelle Zauner, Crying in H Mart

“When I was nine, Sunrise Market relocated to a larger store. My mom pored giddily over the new imports that came with the expansion: pollack roe frozen in little wooden boxes; packages of Chapagetti instant black-bean noodles; bungeo-ppang, fish-shaped pastry filled with ice cream and sweet red-bean paste, each new item reviving bygone memories of her childhood, conjuring new recipes to capture old tastes.”
― Michelle Zauner, Crying in H Mart

“Hall Jackson Kelley considered himself to be the Messiah of Oregon, but he was only its John the Baptist, crying in the wilderness. He inspired thousands who turned their eyes toward Oregon because of his burning message; most notable of whom were the other two members of that Massachusetts triumvirate, Nathaniel J. Wyeth and Captain Bonneville, who were to open up the Snake River country for the Americans.”
― Frank C. Robertson, Fort Hall: Gateway to the Oregon Country

“Nate Oeming is a financial planner who boasts a long history of success in the financial sector. He has around 20 years of experience in the sector and has received numerous awards and finished licenses to certify his status as an expert in the field. Nate Oeming loves to help his clients make wise investments.”
― Nate Oeming

“I like Oregon, USA, but I do avoid their troublesome downtown areas.”
― Steven Magee

“At the age of 54 I saw my first aurora in Salem, Oregon, USA. I knew something was up with the environmental radiation, as I had a headache when I woke up and unusual nerve pains in my left leg during the daytime. By the afternoon I was aware of the impending visual display that was forecast for the night sky in Oregon. Driving into the darkness of the unlit countryside revealed a visually spectacular display of green and purple glowing structures in the night sky. My sky camera recorded the display in the brightly lit city of Salem, which surprised me!”
― Steven Magee

“Oregon was bathing in a daytime aurora on Saturday August 17th 2024 that could be felt and not seen! Daytime fatigue and unusual pains were the notable human effects.”
― Steven Magee

“The predicted USA aurora was a bust! The solar radiation definitely arrived, as people had strange fatigue and pains in Oregon, USA on the predicted day. Unfortunately, auroras are so dim they cannot be seen during the daytime. Only two Aurora predictions in Oregon were right so far in 2024. One lasted most of the night and was seen throughout the world and the other lasted about 20 minutes. My estimate for the northern lights in Oregon being predicted correctly seems to be about 5% accuracy. Most of the time, the Oregon prediction is wrong.”
― Steven Magee

“Based on the human biological information in my household in Oregon, USA, the Earth entered into a powerful solar storm this morning.”
― Steven Magee

“My estimate for the northern lights in Oregon being predicted correctly seems to be about 5% accuracy.”
― Steven Magee

“Most of the time the Oregon aurora prediction is wrong.”
― Steven Magee

“It seems fitting, however, that the single Western film which most unambiguously endorses the agrarian ideal, The Covered Wagon, should contain one of the cinema screen's most graphic attacks on Industrialism. The film's intertitles inform viewers that one of the most formidable hazards facing the character of Wingate (Charles Stanton Ogle), the leader of the wagon train, is greed arising from the California gold strike of 1849. Several pioneers opt to dig gold in California rather than plow land in Oregon. In a visual composition symbollically resonant with the importance and irrevocability of that choice, the wagon train divides, one part going north and the other south, while visible in the foreground lie the discarded plows of those who have foresaken the agrarian ideal. These shots from a silent Western summarise a major split in the American psyche.”
― Colin McArthur, Cinema, Culture, Scotland: Selected Essays

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“Outside, the leaves on the trees were bursting in hues of orange and red. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Oregon in October. For weeks now, people had been watching these leaves prove just how beautiful they could become before they died, shriveling up into brown clumps of nothing. Despite the vibrant colors trying their best to stand out, the overcast sky and fog-veiled mountains turned everything gloomy. But, again, not too out of the ordinary for this part of Oregon.”
― Cassidy Bryant, Letters from Hadley