Rivers Quotes - Page 34

Over the river a golden ray of sun came through the hosts of leaden rain clouds.

If I poured all the lies I had told into the Mississippi, the river would rise and flood the city.

Those who don't feel this love pulling them like a river, those who don't drink dawn like a cup of springwater or take in sunset like a supper, those who don't want to change, let them sleep.

Twenty bridges from Tower to Kew — (Twenty bridges or twenty two) — Wanted to know what the River knew, For they were young, and the Thames was old And this is the tale that River told.

I had been afraid of the awful presence of the river, which was the soul of the river, but through her [Ultima] I learned that my spirit shared in the spirit of all things.

A terrible premonition washed over me. This was how the whole world would end.... They would devour the forest and excrete piles of buildings made of stone wrenched from the earth or from dead trees. They would hammer paths of bare stone between their dwellings, and dirty the rivers and subdue the land until it could recall only the will of man. They could not stop themselves from doing what they did. They did not see what they did, and even if they saw, they did not know how to stop. They no longer knew what was enough.

Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes, Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise.

Of all the sacred places on the coast, none is more comforting than where rivers join the sea. By the river's disappearance we are reminded of life's passing, while by the ocean's beauty we accept it, in a hope we cannot explain.

By Interstate 70: a dog skeleton, a vacuum cleaner, TV dinners, a doll, a pie, rolls of carpet.Later, next to the South Platte River: algae, broken concrete, jet contrails, the smell of crude oil. What I hope to document, though not at the expense of surface detail, is the form that underlies this apparent chaos.

Annabeth frowned. "That doesn't make sense. But why were you visiting --" Her eyes widened. "Hermes said you bear the curse of Achilles. Hestia said the same thing. Did you . . . did you bathe in the River Styx?" "Don't change the subject." "Percy! Did you or not?" "Um . . .maybe a little.

Happy in all that ragged, loose collapse of water, the fountain, its effortless descent and flatteries of spray.

Faith does not need to push the river because faith is able to trust that there is a river. The river is flowing. We are in it.

You know, before I would think, my cab driver hates me. Now I think my limo driver hates me.

A story should be like a river, flowing and never stopping, your readers passengers on a boat, whirling downstream through constantly refreshing and changing scemery.

Oh! You're the people ruining the rivers.

I sing Connecticut, her charms / Of rivers, orchards, blossoming ridges. / I sing her gardens, fences, farms, / Spiders and midges.

You've got to remember, Vermont is a lot of beautiful mountains with valleys and small brooks that run into bigger rivers.

Every day, TV, newspapers, and the Internet bombard us with a message that we're destroying the earth. Ice caps are melting, rivers are dying, polar bears are drowning, and trees are doing something.

Sometimes there's just no way to hold back the river.

Not since the Depression has the state been this dry, have our rivers been this low, our water table this low, and our reservoirs this low.

You need to look like a lady at the Oscars. Otherwise, Joan Rivers will tear you apart. Then again, you aren't really anyone till Joan Rivers tears you apart.

Poetry arrived in search of me. I don't know, I don't know where it came from, from winter or a river. I don't know how or when.

Virtue dwells at the head of a river, to which we cannot get but by rowing against the stream.

The mightiest rivers lose their force when split up into several streams.

With ordinary men the moments which are united in a close continuity out of the original discrete multiplicity are very few, and the course of their lives resembles a little brook, whereas with the genius it is more like a mighty river into which all the little rivulets flow from afar; that is to say, the universal comprehension of genius vibrates to no experience in which all the individual moments have not been gathered up and stored.