Quotes About Sand

I love the water, I love the sand, I love getting a good tan, leaving all golden.

The sun has disappeared, and the light there still is, is left in the atmosphere enclosed by the gloomy mist as pools are left by the receding tide. Through the sand the water slips, and through the mist the light glides away. (Haunts of the Lapwing: I. Winter)

people will frame a divinity to themselves, pleasing to the flesh suitable to their own ends, which, being vain in the substance, will prove likewise vain in the fruit, and as a building upon the sand.

Parker spent two weeks on the white sand beach at Biloxi, and on a white sandy bitch named Belle.

The gray sea and the long black land; And the yellow half-moon large and low: And the startled little waves that leap In fiery ringlets from their sleep, As I gain the cove with pushing prow, And quench its speed i' the slushy sand.

dozed day-long on warm white sand. Of deep-sea fishings he heard tell, and mighty silver gatherings of the mile-long net; of sudden perils, noise

Mother is fading for him, her face receding into shadows, her memory diminishing with each passing day, leaking like sand from a fist.

The sand squeaked underfoot as she toed it. She looked more closely: dark grains of basalt, mixed with minute seashell fragments, and a variety of colorful pebbles, some of them no doubt brecciated fragments of the Hellas impact itself. She lifted her eyes to the hills west of the sea, black under the sun. The bones of things stuck out everywhere. Waves broke in swift lines on the beach, and she walked over the sand toward her friends, in the wind, on Mars, on Mars, on Mars, on Mars, on Mars.

In the fury of the moment/ I can see the Master's hand In every leaf that trembles, in/ every grain of sand.

Svoju patnju, koju prihvatam, moram da prihvatim kao dragocenost. Ne postoji nijedan ispira? zlata koji iskopava samo zlato. Ispira? vadi pesak sa korita reke, naslepo, ne razmišljaju?i šta ?e da izvadi iz vode. On bi voleo da je u pesku i zlato, ali možda ga uopšte ne?e biti, on mora da se pomiri sa time. Niko nema povlasticu da unapred odabere ono što želi.

Julieta looks at me, and then she laughs. 'Your boundaries are made from sand, Sofia.' 'Yes,' I say. 'I know that.

To transform a grimace into a sound sounds impossible, yet it is possible to transform a vision into music, to go outside an enslaved personality, to become impersonal by transforming into sand, into water, into light.

Fractals is Nature's wonderful way of empowering and enabling us to visualize the whole World in a grain of Sand and the Heaven in a beautiful smiling Flower.

I was vaguely aware that we'd been archenemies a few minutes before, and now he had me on my back on the sand.

No, the only good was to be found in non-existence or, if one had to exist, in being a tree, a stone, or lower still, a grain of sand, for that cannot bleed under the heel of every passer-by.

herself down on the sand. It was very soft

Time was sanding your hopes and dreams smooth so they'd fit into the shape of the world, even as you saw them, beautiful, with bright and shiny edges, still in your mind.

The ocean to my right was maroon, the sky above it silver. There were sand trails through the thick purple ice plant that grew along the roadside... but now the sky is the color of peaches... It was a ball of bright saffron sinking into the sea, turning the water purple, the sky orange and green.

All I know is Coach Cook said I'd be a pretty good sand player because I have all the shots.

The real danger is a politics that buries its head in the sand.

I typically enjoy a beautiful beach destination, as I find the water and sand to be the most replenishing.

Grover was sniffing the wind, looking nervous. He fished out his acorns and threw them into the sand, then played his pipes. They rearranged themselves in a pattern that made no sense to me, but Grover looked concerned. "That's us," he said. "Those five nuts right there." "Which one is me?" I asked. "The little deformed one," Zoe suggested. "Oh, shut up.

There is a perennial classical question that asks which part of the motorcycle, which grain of sand in which pile, is the Buddha. Obviously to ask that question is to look in the wrong direction, for the Buddha is everywhere. But just as obviously to ask the question is to look in the right direction, for the Buddha is everwhere.

It was intensely cold, with sand swirling in the air. The wind seemed to be racing past overhead, blurring the outlines of stars in the sky, except for a few of the largest ones, which shimmered slightly. There was no wind near the ground, but the freezing cold air was everywhere, opening long cracks in the wheel ruts…