Quotes About River

Il futuro di un fiume è alla sorgente

Eternity is non evident. There's this endless rotation of the sun in the skull, the stillness outside, and a storm within. At least a river is always flowing in some part of the country. Winds, always gathering speed, shatter the order of things. We return home, in tears.

Words melt in reflections; that's why there's a uselessness to this night, to my missing the river, to the delaying of love... light is picking up momentum in the vicinity of the oaks that cover this property, this silence.

I am chaos in this ordered society, the flaw in a carefully wrought plan. I am turbulence in the queen's eternal river.

As Maia turned to go, hardly believing that there could be such happiness, she heard a loud splash. Miss Minton was leaning over the side, watching the parcel she had held on her knees floating away downriver. "What was that?" asked Maia. Miss Minton straightened herself. If you must know," she said, "it was my corset.

And how's the water in that river this time of year?

I grew up in Iowa, and the improv comedy club Comedy-Sportz across the river in Illinois held auditions. They took me even though I was only 16 - you really had to be 18, but they never checked me for ID.

De todas maneras - continuó -, la pretensión de entresacar los momentos especiales de nuestra vida puede ser un grave error. Es posible que la vida sólo pueda ser juzgada en su totalidad, in extenso, y no a trozos, no tomando un día y quitando otro, no separando los años como las piezas de un rompecabezas para acabar diciendo que tal fue muy bueno y tal muy malo. Y es que todo lo que vive, vive como un río. Sin cortes, sin paradas.

The river that everything drags is known as violent, but nobody calls violent the margins that arrest him.

Tutti vedono la violenza del fiume in piena, nessuno vede la violenza degli argini che lo costringono.

Do rio que tudo arrasta diz-se que é violento. Mas ninguém diz violentas as margens que o comprimem. -- The headlong stream is termed violent But the river bed hemming it in is Termed violent by no one.

You know how a river goes on and on? That's my love for you.

Hope is the name of this river, whose water is Desire, And Thirst the waves thereof.

But let justice roll on like a river, righteousness like a never-failing stream!

That's all we are, a few drops of water in a great river that doesn't know whether we are there or gone. And doesn't care

The Holy Spirit is in you and he wants out. He is in you as a river, not a lake.

Two hundred years after Euro-Americans "discovered" it, America's river west begins and ends at pollution.

I remember how beautiful the Merrimac looked to me in childhood, the first true river I ever knew; it opened upon my sight and wound its way through my heart like a dream realized; its harebells, its rocks, and its rapids, are far more fixed in my memory than anything about the sea.

To trace the history of a river or a raindrop . . . is also to trace the history of the soul, the history of the mind descending and arising in the body. In both, we constantly seek and stumble upon divinity, which like feeding the lake, and the spring becoming a waterfall, feeds, spills, falls, and feeds itself all over again.

Sous le pont Mirabeau coule la Seine Et nos amours Faut-il qu'il m'en souvienne La joie venait toujours après la peine Vienne la nuit sonne l'heure Les jours s'en vont je demeure

Dietro le Tuileries, il cielo si tingeva di ardesia, gli alberi del giardino formavano due masse enormi, violacee in alto. Si accendevano i lampioni a gas, e la Senna, verdastra in tutta la sua estensione, si lacerava in un marezzo d'argento contro i pilastri del ponte.

Les vases du fleuve ensevelissaient ces vengeances obscures, sauvages et légitimes, héroïsmes inconnus, attaques muettes, plus périlleuses que les batailles au grand jour et sans le retentissement de la gloire. Car la haine de l'Étranger arme toujours quelques Intrépides prêts à mourir pour une Idée.

where purl with ravishing music the scented waters that come from the grotto-born river Narg.

All day, after two days and nights of rain, water had been rising in the dykes and now it was creeping rapidly up the five stone arches of the bridge where the she stood watching the wide rainy valley up which the tongue of river finally lost itself in a gray country of winter elms.