Quotes About Desert

They moved on from Sukkot, marked out their camp at Eitam, at the border of the desert. Yahweh walks ahead of them each day in a pillar of cloud, marking the way: at night, in a pillar of fire.

Reminds me of a joke. A cowboy lost his Bible in the desert. A couple of months later a cow wanders over with a book in its mouth. The cowboy takes the book—it's his lost Bible. 'What a miracle; praise the Lord!' the cowboy exclaims. 'Not really,' says the cow. 'Your name is on the inside cover.

Hamet, Seid, and Abdallah were stung by the irony that on the wild desert, where people had virtually nothing, they shared freely, but here, where resources were comparatively abundant, no one would offer them so much as a drink.

To the Arabs, hardened by life on the desert, tears from a man were shameful. When the Frenchman Brisson was reduced to weeping in front of the Bou Sbaa, he wrote, "some women perceiving it, instead of being moved to compassion threw sand in my eyes, as they said, to wipe away my tears.

while we were in inhabited country every Bedu for miles around would come to feed at our expense. It would be impossible to refuse them food: in the desert one may never turn a guest away, however unwanted he may be. T.E. Lawrence observed that 'the desert was held in a crazed communism by which Nature and the elements were for the free use of every known friendly person for his own purposes and no more.

Before Riley, the French traveler Saugnier had wrestled with the Sahrawi ethic regarding property. According to him, on the desert things stolen unperceived became rightfully the property of the thief, and things unwatched, it followed, deserved to be stolen.

I turned my face to the east and the first star that shimmered on the horizon. He held my hand, and it was the hand of the man I had married, lost and found again in the Badiyat ash-Sham, the fabled land of camels and caravans that lies just beyond the walls of the city of jasmine. To live with him would be a very great adventure indeed.

The desert doesn't care who you are, and neither does anyone or anything who lives in it.

The bones seem to cut sharply to the center of something that is keenly alive on the desert even tho' it is vast and empty and untouchable... and knows no kindness with all its beauty.

I have been a faithful son of the abyss, one who curdles when my drum calls. My singing is a coarse cloth on a desert floor.

Gene Autry riding into coral skyline while the cacti stand up ancient and timeless

She'd hoped, like one of those desert rattlesnakes, to shed the skin of her anguish and leave it behind her in the Mexican dirt.

To have hope in these times is an act of courage. To experience catastrophic sadness, to recognize the brutality of life, and still maintain hope--That is everything. Because in order to flourish in the desert, to grow in the bleak, shallow dust and still believe in the possibility of beauty requires a special kind of persistence, It's not only patience and grit and strength, I realized. It's also faith.

There's a moment, Lydia realizes, or no, more than a moment—a span of perhaps fifteen minutes just at twilight—when the desert is the most perfect place that exists. The temperature, the light, the colors, all hang and linger at some unflawed precipice, like the cars of a roller coaster ticking ever so slowly over the apex before the crash.

And then Luca leans close and whispers something in the coyote's ear. And the man reaches up and takes Luca in his arms, and Luca folds himself around the coyote's neck, and they embrace for a long moment, and then they turn away from each other quickly, and Luca ascends the steps. Lydia watches through the window as El Chacal lifts his pack from one of the lawn chairs, hoists his replenished water supplies, and heads back into the desert.

I communed with jackrabbits, lizards, and peculiar desert squirrels and felt astonished by how much life popped and teemed in the desert. The Sonoran birds made songs I'd never heard before.

And EVERYBODY says he's mysterious, she went on. Some years he jest travels, week in and week out, and it's always in heathen countries—Egypt and Asia and the Desert of Sarah, you know.

Like a fountain of refreshing water in the dusty, dry desert streets, a heart God fills with His love ministers life and health.

the giving of tea parties is by no means my favorite amusement. In fact, I would prefer to be pursued across the desert by a band of savage Dervishes brandishing spears and howling for my blood. I would rather be chased up a tree by a mad dog, or face a mummy risen from its grave. I would rather be threatened by knives, pistols, poisonous snakes, and the curse of a long-dead king....

He loved the gigantic peace the Desert gave him. The world was forgotten there; and not the world merely, but all memory of it. Everything faded out. The soul turned inwards upon itself.

He was never alone. A companionship of millions went with him, and he felt the Desert close, as stars are close to one another, or grains of sand.

In a land of sand and ruin and gold There shone one woman, and none but she

Here is the desert of silence, Blinking and blind in the sun-- An old, old woman who mumbles her beads And crumbles to stone.

No. Our desire to "be like Jesus" contains several exemption clauses, not the least of which are Jesus' hidden years, desert experiences, temptations, tortures, and crucifixion.