Quotes About Desert

I was born and raised in Phoenix.

Well, it's like this - I hate Los Angeles and I love Phoenix.

I found out that there was this project called the 'Great Green Wall' where they wanted to plant trees across the Sahara desert, and the idea was born that I wanted to create a support structure for that initiative.

The 'Desert' sweeps up to the walls of Baghdad, but it is a misnomer to call the vast level of rich, stoneless, alluvial soil a desert. It is a dead flat of uninhabited earth; orange colocynth balls, a little wormwood, and some alkaline plants which camels eat, being its chief products. After the inundations, reedy grass grows in the hollows.

We have all been guilty of complaining, but God does not look at it as lightly as we may think. Complaining was the reason the Jews ended up wandering in the desert for forty years. If we were more grateful for what God has done for us, abasing ourselves would not be a problem.

I was born and raised in the high desert of Nevada in a tiny town called Searchlight. My dad was a hard rock miner. My mom took in wash. I grew up around people of strong values - even if they rarely talked about them.

Palm Springs, California. Located in the Sonoran Desert and only a two-hour drive from Los Angeles, Palm Springs boasts the world's largest rotating tramcars from the desert floor and up one of the steepest mountain ascents in the world. Palm Springs claims to have more swimming pools per capita than anywhere else in the country.

Chiar dac? deÈ™ertul doreÈ™te ploaia ca s? se împrosp?teze ,deÈ™ertul are nevoie de soare pentru a È™ti c? este un deÈ™ert.

There was a desert wind blowing that night. It was one of those hot dry Santa Anas that come down through the mountain passes and curl your hair and make your nerves jump and your skin itch. On nights like that every booze party ends in a fight. Meek little wives feel the edge of the carving knife and study their husbands' necks.

There was a desert wind blowing that night. It was one of those hot dry Santa Anas that come down through the mountain passes and curl your hair and make your nerves jump and your skin itch. On nights like that every booze party ends in a fight. Meek little wives feel the edge of the carving knife and study their husbands' necks. Anything can happen.

There was a desert wind blowing that night. It was one of those hot dry Santa Anas that come down through the mountain passes and curl your hair and make your nerves jump and your skin itch. On nights like that every booze party ends in a fight. Meek little wives feel the edge of the carving knife and study their husbands' necks. Anything can happen. You can even get a full glass of beer at a cocktail lounge.

Riding a camel was a challenge.

I'm surprised how hot it gets in the Moab Desert. I knew it got hot, but I didn't think it got, like, Mercury-hot.

I grew up with landscape as a recourse, with the possibility of exiting the horizontal realm of social relations for a vertical alignment with earth and sky, matter and spirit. Vast open spaces speak best to this craving, the spaces I myself first found in the desert and then in the western grasslands.

Drifting across the vast space, silent except for wind and footsteps, I felt uncluttered and unhurried for the first time in a while, already on desert time.

It was a place as blank as a sheet of paper. It was the place I had always been looking for... Flat expanses would call to me... These are the places where the desert is most itself: stark, open, free, an invitation to wander, a laboratory of perception, scale, light, a place where loneliness has a luxurious flavor...

A sombrero fell out of the sky and landed on the main street of town in front of the mayor, his cousin, and a person out of work. The day was scrubbed clean by the desert air. The sky was blue. It was the blue of human eyes, waiting for something to happen. There was no reason for a sombrero to fall out of the sky. No airplane or helicopter was passing overhead and it was not a religious holiday.

The oldest of the three Abrahamic religions, and the clear ancestor of the other two, is Judaism: originally a tribal cult of a single fiercely unpleasant God, morbidly obsessed with sexual restrictions, with the smell of charred flesh, with his own superiority over rival gods and with the exclusiveness of his chosen desert tribe.

He remembered a joke he had heard in a Cairo café. A prophet in the middle of a desert tells a traveller who is dying of thirst that all he needs is water. There is no water, replies the traveller. Yes, the prophet agrees, but if there was you would not be thirsty and you would not die. So I will die, says the traveller. Not if you drink water, replies the prophet.

The work of art is a pyramid which stands in the desert, uselessly: jackals piss at the base of it, and bourgeois clamber to the top of it;

Esta imagen de la arena que fluye constituyó un indescriptible y excitante impacto en el hombre. La aridez de la arena no se debe, como generalmente se piensa, a la simple sequedad, sino que parece producirse como consecuencia de un incesante movimiento que la convierte en inhóspita para todo ser viviente. ¡Qué diferencia con la monótona y pesada manera de vivir de los humanos, que exige estar constantemente aferrado a algo!

Moses explained, "the goat will bear all their faults away with it into a desert place."1 In his classic study of religion and violence, René Girard argued that the scapegoat ritual defused rivalries among groups within the community.2

There was a friggin' sandstorm in Saudi Arabia.

We black men seem the sole oasis of simple faith and reverence in a dusty desert of dollars and smartness.