Quotes About Canyon

I can still remember my first experience of standing at the edge of the Grand Canyon and looking into it. It was so awesome, it took a fair amount of restraint to prevent me from jumping into it, because I was certain I could fly.

I hope you will not have a building of any kind, not a summer cottage, a hotel, or anything else, to mar the wonderful grandeur, the sublimity, the loneliness and beauty of the canyon. Leave it as it is.

Yet even in the loneliness of the canyon I knew there were others like me who had brothers they did not understand but wanted to help. We are probably those referred to as "our brothers' keepers," possessed of one of the oldest and possibly one of the most futile and certainly one of the most haunting of instincts. It will not let us go.

Only when they have outrun the all-too-eager shadows of the Canyon and they are back in the glare of the billboards on Sunset Boulevard, do they wipe their clammy palms, and wonder to themselves how it was that in such a harmless

I used to live in Los Angeles," Norma said. "Off a winding road called Coldheart Canyon.

Well, she's lucky. She still has her little dominion here in Coldheart Canyon.

All through the night, like the tumult of a river when it races between the cliffs of a canyon, in my sleep I could hear the steady roar of the passing army.

Sitting at Night on the Front Porch" I'm here, on the dark porch, restyled in my mother's chair. 10:45 and no moon. Below the house, car lights Swing down, on the canyon floor, to the sea. In this they resemble us, Dropping like match flames through the great void Under our feet. In this they resemble her, burning and disappearing. Everyone's gone And I'm here, sizing the dark, saving my mother's seat.

Now all those diverted cars are going to hit the surrounding streets and canyon passes at the same time hundreds of homes are being evacuated, clogging roads just when fire trucks are trying to get to a raging fire that's roaring through ravines and up the dry hillsides faster than Superman with dysentery looking for a bathroom.

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.

In history books, or the one about the guy who cut his hand off to get out of a canyon in Utah, you really want them to be accurate. But my stuff is such small beer by comparison.

For me, the Canyon isn't just a tourist destination. It's a living, breathing place. It has a dozen plants that live nowhere else.

exploring Arizona's mazelike Mogollon canyon range,

I work out at Runyon Canyon almost every morning.

The other sleepers lay calm and white in the starlight. There was something nameless in that canyon, and whether or not it was what the Indian embodied in the great Nonnezoshe . . . the truth was that there was a spirit.

Wind blew down the canyon like breath through a straw, pushing the scow forward and pleating the river ahead of them.

I was screaming into the canyon at the moment of my death; the echo I created outlasted my last breath.

Out of tradition and habit, the effort to dam the Colorado would continue to be known as the Boulder Canyon Project and its legislative mandate as the Boulder Canyon Project Act. But its location would be Black Canyon.

By 1930, when the Department of the Interior put the Boulder Canyon Project out for bid, Frank Crowe had been involved in the construction of fourteen dams, five of them as superintendent. He was widely recognized as a gifted deployer of men and materials and an audacious problem solver. When

Ditto for the eleven people killed in Antelope Canyon. Venturing into these canyons during the afternoon or evening is significantly more risky.

Wreckage' Had my bones, like the sun, been splintered on this canyon wall and burned among these buckled plates, this bright debris; had it been so, I should not have lingered so long among my losses. I should have come loudly, like a warrior, to my time.

Yet even in the loneliness of the canyon I knew there were others like me who had brothers they did not understand but wanted to help. We are probably those referred to as "our brother's keepers," possessed of one of the oldest and possible one of the most futile and certainly one of the most haunting instincts. It will not let us go.

The 50-minute flights go from Hanapepe Valley to Mana Waiapuna, also known as "Jurassic Park Falls," then on to some of Kauai's most beautiful sites: the Bali Hai Cliffs; the pristine blue waters of Hanalei Bay and the Princeville Resort area (see p. 943); Olokele Canyon; and Waimea Canyon, the dramatically, ruggedly beautiful "Grand Canyon of the Pacific" (see p. 947).

This is how I healed. Or didn't. One evening I took her down to the river. We turned off the highway and rattled slowly up the gravel road and into the heart of the canyon. The walls closed in above us, the high blue of the sky deeper, deep and dark like a river is deep. The highest rock at the rim was a strip of fire, holding the last long sun. The old gorge was a vessel and it was filling with shadow, slowly and with wind.