Quotes About River

Out of the unimaginable blackness beyond the gangrenous glare of that cold flame, out of the Tartarean leagues through which that oily river rolled uncanny, unheard, and unsuspected, there flopped rhythmically a horde of tame, trained, hybrid winged things that no sound eye could ever wholly grasp, or sound brain ever wholly remember.

These beings were like the waters of the river Than, not to be understood. Their deeds I recall not, for they were but of the moment. Their aspect I recall dimly, for it was like to that of the little apes in the trees. Their name I recall clearly, for it rhymed with that of the river. These beings of yesterday were called Man.

It is said that in Ulthar, which lies beyond the river Skai, no man may kill a cat; and this I can verily believe as I gaze upon him who sitteth purring before the fire. For the cat is cryptic, and close to strange things which men cannot see. He

As the steps and the passage grew broader, I heard another sound, the thin, whining mockery of a feeble flute; and suddenly there spread out before me the boundless vista of an inner world–a vast fungous shore litten by a belching column of sick greenish flame and washed by a wide oily river that flowed from abysses frightful and unsuspected to join the blackest gulfs of immemorial ocean.

In Porto, it's a tourist city. It's close to the river, the ocean as well. There's a lot of history.

We made a good start toward preserving recreational areas like the Chattahoochee River.

The Okavango Delta is an astonishing sight: the great Okavango River, rather than flow towards the sea, flows inland, into the sands of the Kalahari.

Having contemplated this admirable grove, I proceeded towards the shrubberies on the banks of the river, and though it was now late in December, the aromatic groves appeared in full bloom.

I live on a big old Dutch barge by Tower Hill on the Thames.

Tower Bridge would make a cool house. I like the idea of living over the river.

I live in a market town in a mill house with the river running both sides and Somerfield's car park only a loose nine iron away, and I really, really, really love it.

I've always been fascinated by the Mississippi River and the way of life in these small river towns.

For centuries my father's family lived on Britain's biggest tidal river, the Severn, on which there was a huge trade with the interior, and through the Port of Bristol with America.

The perfect journey is never finished, the goal is always just across the next river, round the shoulder of the next mountain. There is always one more track to follow, one more mirage to explore.

Today, the first & last of every Tree/ Speaks to humankind. Come to me, here beside the River.

Surrender is a gift that you can give yourself. It's an act of faith. It's saying that even though I can't see where this river is flowing, I trust it will take me in the right direction.

Love without trust is a river without water.

As a youth, I listened to the rain from the bowers of pleasure houses, Red silk drapes translucent in the glow of candlelight. In my prime, I listened to the rain as a traveler, The sky low, the river broad, the calls of the wild geese harsh and cold. Now, grey at the temples, I listen to the rain beneath the eaves of an abandoned cloister. Has mine been a futile life? I have no answers, only the sound of raindrops upon worn stone steps, And long hours yet to pass before the light of dawn.

All good New Orleanians go to look at the Mississippi at least once a day. At night it is like creeping into a dark bedroom to look at a sleeping child--something of that sort--gives you the same warm nice feeling.

All good New Orleanians go to look at the Mississippi at least once a day. At night it is like creeping into a dark bedroom to look at a sleeping child--something of that sort--gives you the same warm nice feeling, I mean.

Before the Battle: Music of whispering trees Hushed by the broad-winged breeze Where shaken water gleams; And evening radiance falling With reedy bird-notes calling. O bear me safe through dark, you low-voiced streams. I have no need to pray That fear may pass away; I scorn the growl and rumble of the fight That summons me from cool Silence of marsh and pool, And yellow lilies islanded in light. O river of stars and shadows, lead me through the night.

Writing is a luxury or, with luck, a rainbow of colors. It is my lifesaver when the water of the river or the sea tries to drag me under. When you want to die you fall in love with yourself, you look for something touching that will save you.

More of us should try turning a break into a proper adventure with a healthy dose of purpose and meaning. It almost guarantees a lifetime of memories. You could follow a river from source to sea or start a trip in one location and then head to another, exploring along the way.

Love was not thunderbolts but a meandering river, an accumulation of accidents, the momentum of details.