Quotes About Desert

The Santa Anas blew in hot from the desert, shriveling the last of the spring grass into whiskers of pale straw.

I can understand why those primitive desert people think a camera steals their soul. It is unnatural to see yourself from the outside.

I would have been content with any job however thankless, in any quarter however remote, if I had a chance of making a corner of the desert blossom and the solitary place glad.

In northern architecture - the cathedrals of Europe and all the little churches - the details, the carving of stone, become necessary because the light is not there to help you very much. You have to enrich surfaces. The desert reduces form to its simplest nature. There is no need for gargoyles or flying buttresses in the desert.

The fire raged across the Desert after starting in scrubland. There are a thousand ways for such a blaze to begin: sun shining through to a scatter of dried plants; sparks from a passing vehicle; Sometimes it's intentional. On a landscape fried dry by terrible drought and baked day after day by a merciless sun. The fire was a demon that stalked from place to place, searching for where to settle its blazing roots.

Every bit of water falling on all of France, channeled into one drainpipe—that's similar to what goes into the Columbia, or at least a shallow part of it. The river's source is a glacial drip 2,619 feet above sea level in the foothills of the Canadian Purcells; by its midway point in a high desert, the Columbia has a depth several hundred feet below the ocean plane.

So much of the theatrical can leave you with a yearning for the real. The real is suddenly and starkly there right at the city's edge and extends for thousands of square miles of desert and mountain and canyon with which human beings can do almost nothing profitable other than to leave it be and just look at it.

Daughter of Sodom, come not near me! But cover thy face with a veil, and scatter ashes upon thine head, and get thee to the desert and seek out the Son of Man.

Y por que el sol es tan mal amigo del caminante en el desierto? Y por que el sol es tan simpatico en el jardin del hospital? And why is the sun such a bad companion to the traveler in the desert? And why is the sun so congenial in the hospital garden?

Marc to Gabe: What do you know about the lemon stuff? You weren't in desert combat. You were a park ranger. I'm not dissing that. It's an important job. Someone has to keep the chipmunks in line. I've watched Chip and Dale. I know how sneaky those little bastards can be.

tamarisk grove. The manna characteristically exuded

A dry belt located along the fringes of the Sahara is called Sahel (Sahil) by the Mande people who live there. Sahel means "shore" in Arabic, and the region is like the shoreline of the desert sea.

Altar of the East in a clear vase, one bud a thin and dawn-pink ribbon a cone of dark incense from the farthest desert a white candle the picture of a child a single feather a flute carved of reed . . . a scroll, inscribed by hand a stoppered silver bottle containing just your breath

Any man can stay sober in a desert, he mused, but only the loyal can sit in an oasis and refuse to part his lips.

dunes. As they approached the shack there was smoke rising from the chimney and when they entered the lean-to kitchen, there was a fire on the open hearth. Swart Hendrick looked up from it. 'The Jew has taken the table and the chairs,' he said. 'But I hid the pots and the

caravanserai. It was almost certainly they who

and the romantics end up anchorites in the desert.

Trains in these parts went from East to West, and from West to East . . . On either side of the railway lines lay the great wide spaces of the desert - Sary-Ozeki, the Middle lands of the yellow steppes. In these parts any distance was measured in relation to the railway, as if from the Greenwich meridian . . . And the trains went from East to West, and from West to East . . .

A brilliant white light beat pitilessly down, like the fierce desert sun at midday on the French Foreign Legion; the glittering floor dazzled the eye with the cruel desert glare. We walked slowly through the cereals.

it was these desperate inexperienced bitches, he thought, who never banded together but fought everyone and themselves and were like camels, they could go on for days without one sup of encouragement. Under their humps they had tanks of self-confidence so that they could cross any desert area of arid prickly pear without one compliment, or dewdrop as they called it in his family, to uphold them.

I want to walk in the desert tonight. I want the wind to pass over me. I want to let the poison bleed through the soles of my feet into the desert floor. I want to starve the monster. I want to punish it with thoughts of clean night wind. The

the desert, nobody needed to preach that there was a higher power than the human. Whether you think of it as natural or supernatural—and in the sixth century there was no difference between the two—anyone unaware of it did not survive.

Night. Heavenly delicious sweet night of the desert that calls all of us to love her. The night is our comfort with her coolness and darkness. On wings, on feet, on our bellies, out we all come to glory in the night.

No wonder the blood sacrifices and the blood-spilling had stopped when the people reached this high desert plateau; every drop of moisture, every drop of blood, each tear, had been made precious by this arid land.