Quotes About Valley

I love all the Imperial Valley, man.

Gethsemane - the word is Hebrew for olive press - is just across the valley from Kidron, which in turn is a stone's throw from the Wailing Wall and the Dome of the Rock.

The pollution that flows from the Tijuana River Valley into the Pacific Ocean threatens San Diego's environment.

If anything made that country habitable it was the mountains themselves, purple when the sun dropped and so sharply etched in the morning light the granite dazzled almost more than the bright snow lacing it. The nearest peaks rose ten thousand feet higher than the valley floor, with Whitney, the highest, just off to the south. They were important for all of us, but especially for the Issei. Whitney reminded Papa of Fujiyama, that is, it gave him the same kind of spiritual sustenance.

The house of leaves burst into full orange-yellow combustion, as the crowd stood up with the reflections shining on their faces and called back as a chorus; the gathered voices grew louder as the flames danced upward and filled the valley with light and shadows. 'Burn it down!' he said. 'Burn it down!' they said. 'BURN IT DOWN!

with the sandstone cliffs of the Manuelito Plateau off to their right, the great emptiness of Black Creek Valley on the left, and clouds lit by the morning sun building over the Painted Cliffs ahead of them.

A vale of humility between two mountains of conceit.

Here is the most valuable thing in the whole of Moomin Valley, Groke! Do you know what has grown out of this hat? Raspberry juice and fruit trees, and the most beautiful little self-propelling clouds: the only Hobgoblin's Hat in the world!

It is autumn in Moomin Valley, for how else can spring come back again?

At Loch Mor we walked down a spongy hill to a valley. The sun was dropping then dropped, leaving a sky of frilly reds. The moon appeared too soon. The valley sloped around a teardrop-shaped lake, pink with the bizarre fuchsia bursts of the late-coming sunset. Violet heather bruised the green weedy ground as we jumped down. This was a place conceived in a burst of emotion by a melancholy boy.

Once upon a time amidst the mountains and hills and falling streams of a fair land there was a town or thorp in a certain valley.

Our home was in a beautiful valley far back in the rugged Ozarks. The country was new and sparsely settled. The land we lived on was Cherokee land, allotted to my mother because of the Cherokee blood that flowed in her veins. It lay in a strip from the foothills of the mountains to the banks of the Illinois River in northeastern Oklahoma.

I think,' said Ross, 'that this level runs east under the valley in the direction of Mingoose.' He moved off into the tunnel. A splash behind him told him that Francis was off the ladder and following.

You will never find peace with these fascists You'll never find friends such as we So remember that valley of Jarama And the people that'll set that valley free. From this valley they say we are going Do not hasten to bid us adieu Even though we lost the battle at Jarama We'll set this valley before we're through. All this world is like this valley called Jarama So green and so bright and so fair No fascists can dwell in our valley Nor breathe in our new freedoms air.

Will anyone understand it outside Paris? That is open to doubt. The special features of this scene, full of local colour and observations, can only be appreciated in the area lying between the heights of Montmartre and the hills of Montrouge, in that illustrious valley of flaking plasterwork and gutters black with mud; a valley full of suffering that is real, and of joy that is often false, where life is so hectic that it takes something quite extraordinary to produce feelings that last.

I was a typical Valley teen, in smoggy Van Nuys.

I live at the bottom of a valley. I have a small bookshop in a small town, and I seldom venture far afield.

There's this myopia among American venture capitalists to not go anywhere beyond Silicon Valley and New York.

The chance to interact with big shots is drawing scads of aspiring entrepreneurs to Quora, along with venture capitalists and other Valley players.

Unfortunately, a lot of Silicon Valley venture capitalists are disconnected from African Americans, Latinos, and other people of color.

Now there was silence. For hours on end the valley would be completely still and empty, and we became curious. What was everybody doing? Faustin, we knew, traveled around the neighboring farms as a visiting slaughterer, slitting the throats and breaking the necks of rabbits and ducks and pigs and geese so that they could be turned into terrines and hams and confits.

Not surprisingly, the region also oozes Native American mysticism and legend. The Yuma culture was in the valley five thousand years before the birth of Christ.

So How do you pull yourself out of the Valley? You remember what God has done, You accept what God is doing and You trust what God is going to do.

The view down the valley was wide and free; the winding river, the rounded, rolling hills. The air sparkled so that it was a positive joy to breathe . . . and over the whole place there was a stillness, a peaceful sort of feeling; it was like the feeling one has when the words of a benediction have been uttered and have died away.