Quotes About Quicksand

valiant efforts to make conversation all stumbled and sank into quicksand. The main thing I remembered were the forced smiles, the heavy smell of cherry pipe tobacco and Grandpa Decker's not-very-friendly warning to keep my sticky little mitts off his model train set (an Alpine village which took up an entire room of their house and according to him was worth tens of thousands of dollars).

Most men act real stupid trying to restrain the emotions of an emotionally strong and tenacious woman. They often find themselves in an -emotional quick sand- the more they wiggle, the deeper they sink-after someone dies of course! what stupidity!

Moinous reaches for Sucette's hand and squeezes it. Oh but I do love you, I do, I swear, in spite of them. However, for the first time in his life Moinous understands what quicksand love is.

Voluntary Quicksand I read the Chronicle this morning as if I were stepping into voluntary quicksand and watched the news go over my shoes with forty-four more days of spring. Kent State America May 7, 1970

The whole edifice of civilization turned out to be constructed from an unstable mix of quicksand and imagination.

His still refuted quirks he still repeats. New-raised objections with new quibbles meets; Till sinking in the quicksand he defends, He dies disputing, and the contest ends.

I'm not a prophet or a stone aged man Just a mortal with potential of a superman I'm living on. - Quicksand

When I was a little kid we had a sand box. It was a quicksand box. I was an only child... eventually.

These deceptions are the foundation of the modern world. Living in the high-tech twenty-first century is like dancing on quicksand. Nothing seems certain. Everything shifts. The center cannot hold.

It's hard to describe, but I imagine the way I am at this moment is a lot like getting sucked into a vortex. Everything dark and churning, but slow churning instead of fast, and this great weight pulling you down, like it's attached to your feet even if you can't see it. I think, This is what it must be feel like to be trapped in quicksand.

The boys had asked why, if it acted slowly, was it called quicksand. The Mollusks had replied that, as far as they were concerned, most English names for things were silly. The word that they used for quicksand was a deep grunt that translated roughly to "uh-oh.

It's hard to describe, but I imagine the way I am at this moment is a lot like getting sucked into a vortex. Everything dark and churning, but slow churning instead of fast, and this great weight pulling you down, like it's attached to your feet even if you can't see it. I think, This is what it must feel like to be trapped in quicksand.

For the being, maybe. But for the spirit, there are no quick sands.

As I obsess about my ancient problems, I feel more like I'm sinking in quicksand than lighting a torch. I'm creating neither heat nor light, just the icky, perversely pleasurable squish of self-pity between my toes. My only defense is that I'm not the only one down here in the muck - our whole culture is doting on tales of personal tragedy.

I remember certain group gatherings that are hard to get up and leave from. I remember alligators and quicksand in jungle movies. (Pretty scary.) I remember opening jars that nobody else could open. I remember making home-made ice cream. I remember that I liked store-bought ice cream better. I remember hospital supply story windows. I remember stories of what hot dogs are made of. I remember Davy Crockett hats. And Davy Crockett just about everything else.

The Chinese banking system is built on quicksand and that's the one thing a lot of people don't realize. Everybody seems to think it is a free and clear open checkbook. It's not. The banking system in China is extremely fragile.

If there's not any endgame, we're in quicksand. We take one more step, and we're still there, and there's no way out.

I don't go on Reddit, because I know that'll be quicksand and I won't be able to get out.

Language in art remains a highly ambiguous transaction, a quicksand, a trampoline, a frozen pool which might give way under you ... at any time.

Most autumns, the water is low from the long dry summer, and you have to get out from time to time and wade, leading or dragging your boat through trickling shallows from one pool to the long channel-twisted pool below, hanging up occasionally on shuddering bars of quicksand, making six or eight miles in a day's lazy work, but if you go to the river at all, you tend not to mind. You are not in a hurry there; you learned long since not to be.

The valley of regrets can pull you down into its quicksand bottom: it's best not to linger there.

Shyness is a curious thing, because, like quicksand, it can strike people at any time, and also, like quicksand, it usually makes its victims look down.

What if, like virtually everybody else who suffers repeatedly from depression, you have become a victim of your own very sensible, even heroic, efforts to free yourself—like someone pulled even deeper into quicksand by the struggling intended to get you out?

That smile was dangerous, she thought - a quicksand smile if ever there was one. Easy to wander in; perhaps more difficult to wander back out.