Sand Quotes - Page 15

• A moment later, he plopped down on the sand beside her, and when they accidentally touched, Gabby had the briefest flash of them sitting together just like this on a hundred different weekends in the future.

  Nicholas Sparks

  Weekend, Together, Different

  FaceBook post by Nicholas Sparks from Sep 02, 2012

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• I grew, a happy, healthy child in a bright world of illustrated books, clean sand, orange trees, friendly dogs, sea vistas and smiling faces.

  Vladimir Nabokov

  Dog, Children, Book

  Vladimir Nabokov (2011). “The Annotated Lolita: Revised and Updated”, p.64, Vintage

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• One day you will hear the sound of time rustling as it slips through your fingers like sand. Remember me then. I wish you luck.

  Sergei Lukyanenko

  Time, Luck, Wish

  Sergei Lukyanenko (2006). “Night Watch”, Miramax

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• I have always loved the desert. One sits down on a desert sand dune, sees nothing, hears nothing. Yet through the silence something throbs, and gleams.

  Antoine de Saint-Exupery

  Silence, Desert, Gleam

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• I sat down in the sand, breathless with shame and failure. God, I thought, some defender of the weak. Some freedom fighter: Joan of Arc in sunscreen.

  Anne Lamott

  Fighter, Shame, Weak

  Anne Lamott (2000). “Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith”, Anchor

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• I danced along a colored wind/ Dangled from a rope of sand

  Tom Waits

  Wind, Rope

  Song: Singapore

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• For now is my grief heavier than the sands of the seas, she thought. This world has emptied me of all but the oldest purpose: tomorrow's life.

  Frank Herbert

  Grief, Sea, Purpose

  Frank Herbert (2003). “Dune”, p.183, Penguin

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• A stone is heavy and the sand is weighty; but a fool's wrath is heavier than them both.

  Frank Herbert

  Wrath, Stones, Fool

  Frank Herbert (2003). “Dune”, p.225, Penguin

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• Perhaps life is like an hour glass, with dear ones the sand that slips from the upper glass--the earth--into the second--eternity.

  Margaret George

  Glasses, Dear Ones, Life Is Like

  Margaret George (2012). “Elizabeth I”, p.370, Pan Macmillan

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• I am forever walking upon these shores, Betwixt the sand and the foam, The high tide will erase my food prnts, And the wind will blow away the foam, But the sea and the shore will remain forver

  Khalil Gibran

  Blow, Wind, Sea

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• Many of our attempts to understand Christian faith have only cheapened it. I can no more understand the totality of God than the pancake I made for breakfast understands the complexity of me. The little we do understand, that grain of sand our minds are capable of grasping, those ideas such as God is good, God feels, God loves, God knows all, are enough to keep our hearts dwelling on His majesty and otherness forever.

  Donald Miller

  Christian, Heart, Ideas

  Donald Miller (2007). “Miller 3-in-1: Blue Like Jazz, Through Painted Deserts, Searching for God”, p.117, Thomas Nelson Inc

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• You told me once of the plants that lie dormant through the drought, that wait, half-dead, deep in the earth. The plants that wait for the rain. You said they'd wait for years, if they had to; that they'd almost kill themselves before they grew again. But as soon as those first drops of water fall, those plants begin to stretch and spread their roots. They travel up through the soil and sand to reach the surface. There's a chance for them again.

  Lucy Christopher

  Lying, Rain, Fall

  Lucy Christopher (2014). “Stolen”, p.255, Scholastic Inc.

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• The sky was different, without color, taut and unforgiving. But the water was the most unforgiving thing, nearly black at times, cold enough, I knew, to kill me, violent enough to break me apart. The waves were immense, battering rocky beaches without sand. The farther I went, the more desolate it became, more than any place I'd been, but for this very reason the landscape drew me, claimed me as nothing had in a long time.

  Jhumpa Lahiri

  Beach, Color, Sky

  FaceBook post by Jhumpa Lahiri from Oct 29, 2012

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• Each of us has... all the time there is. Those years, weeks, hours, are the sands in the glass running swiftly away. To let them drift through our fingers is tragic waste. To use them to the hilt, making them count for something, is the beginning of wisdom.

  Eleanor Roosevelt

  Running, Glasses, Years

  Eleanor Roosevelt (1960). “You Learn by Living”, p.60, Westminster John Knox Press

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• Good night.' Diana summoned all the dignity that she could manage in her bedraggled state and began to move back up the beach. Her dress was soaked and her stockings dotted with sand and her heart couldn't possibly withstand any more.

  Anna Godbersen

  Good Night, Beach, Moving

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• We must remember that there is a great difference between a myth and a miracle. A myth is the idealization of a fact. A miracle is the counterfeit of a fact. There is the same difference between a myth and a miracle that there is between fiction and falsehood -- between poetry and perjury. Miracles belong to the far past and the far future. The little line of sand, called the present, between the seas, belongs to common sense to the natural.

  Robert Green Ingersoll

  Past, Sea, Differences

  Robert G. Ingersoll (1997). “Ingersoll's Greatest Lectures”, p.451, Health Research Books

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• A little tap at the window, as though some missile had struck it, followed by a plentiful, falling sound, as light, though, as if a shower of sand were being sprinkled from a window overhead; then the fall spread, took on an order, a rhythm, became liquid, loud, drumming, musical, innumerable, universal. It was the rain

  Marcel Proust

  Rain, Fall, Light

  Marcel Proust (2016). “In Search of Lost Time: Or “Á la Recherche du temps perdu””, p.102, Jester House Publishing

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• I sometimes felt as if these marks on my body were a kind of code, which blossomed, then faded, like invisible ink held to a candle. But if they were a code, who held the key to it? I was sand, I was snow — written on, rewritten, smoothed over.

  Margaret Atwood

  Keys, Snow, Invisible Ink

  "The Blind Assassin". Book by Margaret Atwood, September 2, 2000.

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• Sonnet XXV Before I loved you, love, nothing was my own: I wavered through the streets, among Objects: Nothing mattered or had a name: The world was made of air, which waited. I knew rooms full of ashes, Tunnels where the moon lived, Rough warehouses that growled 'get lost', Questions that insisted in the sand. Everything was empty, dead, mute, Fallen abandoned, and decayed: Inconceivably alien, it all Belonged to someone else - to no one: Till your beauty and your poverty Filled the autumn plentiful with gifts.

  Pablo Neruda

  Autumn, Moon, Tunnels

  Pablo Neruda, “Sonnet XXV”

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• And when he came to, he was flat on his back on the beach in the freezing sand, and it was raining out of a low sky, and the tide was way out.

  David Foster Wallace

  Beach, Rain, Sky

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• I went into the desert to forget about you. But the sand was the color of your hair. The desert sku was the color of your eyes. There was nowhere I could go that wouldn't be you.

  Jeffrey Eugenides

  Eye, Hair, Color

  Jeffrey Eugenides (2003). “Middlesex”, p.189, A&C Black

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• So I'm guessing you're Seven and Ten; What can you do?" I say as I find our rifles in the sand and hand each of them a gun. "You can call me Marina," the girl with the brown hair says. "And I can breathe under water and see in the dark and heal the sick and wounded. And I have telekinesis." Call me Ella, I hear ten say in my head. Aside from my telepathy, I can change ages. "Awesome. I'm four, that nut job with the long black hair is nine and the beast is my chimaera, Bernie Kosar.

  Pittacus Lore

  Girl, Jobs, Dark

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• [...] endless action and reaction. Those beautifully rounded pebbles which you gather on the sand and which you hold in your hand and marvel at their exceeding smoothness, were chiseled into their varies and graceful forms by the ceaseless action of countless waves. Nature is herself a great worker and never tolerates, without certain rebuke, any contradiction to her wise example. Inaction is followed by stagnation. Stagnation is followed by pestilence and pestilence is followed by death.

  Frederick Douglass

  Wise, Hands, Example

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• Faith as tiny as a grain of sand allows us to move mountains.

  Paulo Coelho

  Moving, Mountain, Tiny

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• Now she realized that she was not peering at a so-dark-blue-it-looked-black ocean, but rather she was looking straight through miles of incredibly clear water at something enormous and black in its nethermost depths. Maybe it was the bottom - so deep that not even light could touch it. And yet, down in those impossible depths, she thought she could see tiny lights sparkling. She stared uncertainly at the tiny glimmerings. They seemed almost like scattered grains of sand lit from within; in some places they clustered like colonies, faint and twinkling. Like stars.

  Fuyumi Ono

  Stars, Ocean, Dark

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