Quotes About River

I was thinking about another kind of river, one that runs through every one of us, no matter where we come from, all over the world. It's the river of the heart, and the heart's desire. It's the pure, essential truth of what each one of us is, and can achieve.

The past is a novel, written by Fate, weaving the same themes: love and its glory, hate and its prisoners, the soul and its price. Our decisions become narratives: fated choices that unknowably change the course of the living river. In the present, where decisions and connections are made, Fate waits on the riverbank of Story, leaving us to our mistakes and miracles, because it's our will alone that leads us to one or the other.

I was thinking about another kind of river, one that runs through every one of us, no matter where we come from, all over the world. It's the river of the heart, and the heart's desire. It's the pure, essential truth of what each one of us is, and can achieve. All

Magic, the trick that connects the ordinary to the impossible, was the invisible river that ran through every street and beating heart in Bombay in those years, and nothing, from the postal service to the pleading of beggars, worked without a measure of it.

Monsoon rain fell upon the fountain and surrounding tiles: rain so dense and constant that the sky was a river, and our part of the world was its waterfall.

Mr. Speaker, Delaware River's regional ports handle approximately 58 million tons of cargo yearly.

Grief lingers, and the ache of loss; those things don't change. But seeping into every leaf, a little guilty burns away each autumn, and falls, spinning down the river. Winter's long sleep begins, and with each spring the tree wales knowing mercifully less than it did the year before.

He had returned to the source of the river that ran steadily through the galaxy, invigorating and sweeping up the dead as it passed.

That place where I was born was a cold town. Even the mountains stood away. They were not sure, no more than me, of that dark spot, those same mountains. There was a black river that flowed through the town, and if it had no grace for mortal beings, it did for swans, and many swans resorted there, and even rode the river like some kind of plunging animal, in floods.

So I walked as day was dawning Where small birds sang and leaves were falling Where we once watched the row boats landing On the broad majestic Shannon

There's an unseen river of communication that forever flows—dark and powerful. Tonight was about food and laughter, yes. But it was also about navigatin' that river." A

And when you died I took you down to the river. And when I died you waited for me by the shore. So it was that time passed between us.

Time is a river, and it flows in a circle. I love you.

A wonderful stream is the River Time As it runs through the realms of Tears With a faultless rhythm and a musical rhyme As it blends with the ocean of Years.

Sometimes we would be staked out in the middle of the river, several barges tied together. So we could party.

park came into view—the double arched stone bridge over the fast-flowing river;

Dust rises at every step, fine as flour. It is dried river silt, that dust. Add water, and the soil is so fertile that you could plant a pencil and harvest a book.

So come to the pond, or the river of your imagination, or the harbor of your longing, and put your lips to the world. And live your life.

maybe death isn't darkness, after all, but so much light wrapping itself around us-- as soft as feathers-- that we are instantly weary of looking, and looking, and shut our eyes, not without amazement, and let ourselves be carried, as through the translucence of mica, to the river that is without the least dapple or shadow-- that is nothing but light--scalding, aortal light-- in which we are washed and washed out of our bones.

In the morning it shuffles, unhurried, across the wet fields in its black slippers, in its coal-colored coat with the white stripe like a river running down its spine

What, precisely, will you grieve for? "For the river. For myself, my lost joyfulness. For the children who will not know what a river can be—a friend, acompanion, a hint of heaven.

the river can't wait to get to the ocean and the sky, it's been there before.

About the River Clarion Along its shores were, may I say, very intense cardinal flowers. And trees, and birds that have wings to uphold them, for heaven's sakes– the lucky ones: they have such deep natures, they are so happily obedient. While I sit here in a house filled with books, ideas, doubts, hesitations.

Zebras are the first to cross the river because they eat the coarsest grass. After they've thinned down the top layer, the wildebeests arrive and eat the next layer. They prepare the grass for the gazelles, who come last.