Quotes About Meander

Words should wander and meander. They should fly like owls and flicker like bats and slip like cats. They should murmur and scream and dance and sing.

The promenade is a special subset of walking.

Television and film are such streamlined story mediums. You can't really meander about, whereas a novel is an interior experience.

Sweet Echo, sweetest nymph, that liv'st unseenWithin thy airy shellBy slow Meander's margent green,And in the violet-embroider'd vale.

A lot of shorts spend too much time setting up the idea; sometimes they meander.

That's what we all do: endlessly take the long way around.

That's what we all do : endlessly take the long way around.

In Einstein's equation, time is a river. It speeds up, meanders, and slows down. The new wrinkle is that it can have whirlpools and fork into two rivers. So, if the river of time can be bent into a pretzel, create whirlpools and fork into two rivers, then time travel cannot be ruled out.

In Einstein's equation, time is a river. It speeds up, meanders, and slows down. The new wrinkle is it can have whirlpools and fork into two rivers. So, if the river of time can be bent into a pretzel, create whirlpools and fork into two rivers, then time travel cannot be ruled out.

The first sentence of every novel should be: Trust me, this will take time but there is order here, very faint, very human. Meander if you want to get to town.

He sauntered. To stray is human. To saunter is Parisian. In

As Meander says, "For our mind is God;" and as Heraclitus, "Man's genius is a deity."

Today, I'll simply wander. Head off in one direction or another and keep walking. Until I feel like stopping.

The water moves on, a little faster than before, yet still the great river flows. It is as fluid and unpredictable in its moods as it has ever been, but it meanders within familiar banks.

There just wasn't enough time in 2008. It had become a limited resource. Back in 1998, the days were so much more spacious. When she woke up in the morning, the day rolled out in front of her like a long hallway for her to meander down, free to linger over the best parts. Days were so stingy now. Mean slivers of time. They flew by like speeding cars. Whoosh!

Sweet Echo, sweetest nymph that liv'st unseen Within thy airy shell By slow Meander's margent green, And in the violet-imbroider'd vale Where the love-lorn nightingale Nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well: Canst thou not tell me of a gentle pair That likest thy Narcissus are?

The first sentence of every novel should be: Trust me, this will take time but there is order here, very faint, very human. Meander if you want to get to town.

We continued our strolling, for that is exactly what it was: strolling. This was not something I did in real life, either. It was always more like "rushing," or "hustling," or "guy-walking-like-weird-Olympic-walker.

and wanders

Si te parece que me voy por las ramas, si te parece que divago, recuerda que las historias reales pocas veces toman el camino más recto.