Quotes About Brackish

sometimes, unexpectedly, grief pounded over me in waves that left me gasping; and when the waves washed back, I found myself looking out over a brackish wreck which was illumined in a light so lucid, so heartsick and empty, that I could hardly remember that the world had ever been anything but dead.

Why use salty when you can have brackish? It carries a sense of part-water, part-salt, too, just like the sea.

But sometimes, unexpectedly, grief pounded over me in waves that left me gasping; and when the waves washed back, I found myself looking out over a brackish wreck which was illumined in a light so lucid, so heartsick and empty, that I could hardly remember that the world had ever been anything but dead.

The state with the prettiest name, the state that floats in brackish water, held together by mangrove roots.

You don't cross a mangrove. You'd spike yourself on the roots of the mangrove trees. You'd be sucked down and suffocated by the brackish mud.

Nearby a wide, brackish river froths, bubbling around rock. Tall, slender saw palmettos make lonely islands of rubble and root. On a steep slope, a single wall of a five-story concrete building stands. It looks like a castle cut from construction paper, flat instead of three-dimensional.

I lifted one foot from the brackish water, and the bunny slippers were soaked and drooped pathetically. Even the fangs seemed robbed of any charm. Don't worry, I told it. Someone will pay for your suffering. Heavily. With screaming. I felt I should repeat it for the other slipper, in case there should be any bad feelings between the two. One should never create tension between ones's footwear. --POV is Myrnin, page 221

The description of shock and grief hot so close to home: but sometimes, unexpectedly, grief pounded over me in waves that left me gasping; and when the waves washed back, I found myself looking out over a brackish wreck which was illuminated in a light so lucid, so heartsick and empty, that I could hardly remember that the world had ever been anything but dead

Mother, when was this coffee dripped? Ignatius demanded, flapping into the kitchen again. Just about a hour ago. Why? It certainly tastes brackish.

The trauma of discovering her body, unmoving in the brackish water of the bathtub, had aged him ten years.