Sand Quotes - Page 16

• A wind blew, and the sand around his drawing scattered. He wrapped his fingers inside his wife's, and Father Time rekindled a connection he had only ever had with her. He surrendered to that sensation and felt the final drops of their lives touch one another, like water in a cave, top meets bottom, Heaven meets Earth. As their eyes closed, a different set of eyes opened, and they rose from the ground as a shared south, up and up, a sun and a moon in a single sky.

  Mitch Albom

  Father, Eye, Moon

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• She was sleeping in a quiet bedroom beside her brother, separated only by glass and sand from the young man she loved, a young man who loved her back

  Nicholas Sparks

  Brother, Sleep, Men

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• When I wake, I have a brief, delicious feeling of happiness that is somehow connected with Peeta. Happiness, of course, is a complete absurdity at this point, since at the rate things are going, I'll be dead in a day. And that's the best-case scenario, if I'm able to eliminate the rest of the field, including myself, and get Peeta crowned as the winner of the Quarter Quell. Still, the sensation's so unexpected and sweet I cling to it, if only for a few moments. Before the gritty sand, the hot sun, and my itching skin demand a return to reality.

  Suzanne Collins

  Sweet, Reality, Feelings

  Suzanne Collins (2013). “The Hunger Games Complete Trilogy”, p.497, Scholastic UK

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• And you're too nice," he added, above the lap-lap of the water and the patter of sand on the water-lily leaves. "I was relying on you being too jealous to let that demon near the place.

  Diana Wynne Jones

  Nice, Jealous, Water Lily

  Diana Wynne Jones (2002). “Wizard's Castle”

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• Were you lying?" "I never lie," he said piously. "About what?" "The sand, the snake." For a young man who never lied, he seemed surprisingly unoffended by the question.

  Megan Whalen Turner

  Lying, Men, Snakes

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• ‗In life, at sometime or another we come to a point where all relationships cease—where there is only us and Allah. There are no parents, brother or sister, or any friend. Then we realise that there is no earth under us nor is there sky above, but only Allah who is supporting us in this emptiness. Then we realise our worth – it is not more than a grain of sand or the leaf of a plant. Then we realise our existence is only confined to our being. Our demise makes not a whit of difference to the world around us, nor to the scheme of things.

  Umera Ahmed

  Brother, Sky, Differences

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• It happened like this. I was stolen from an airport. Taken from everything I knew, everything I was used to. Taken to sand and heat, dirt and danger. And he expected me to love him. This is my story. A letter from nowhere.

  Lucy Christopher

  Taken, Airports, Stories

  "Storm-Wake". Book by Lucy Christopher, April 5, 2018.

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• I see an ocean that’s spilled out of a wineglass, its body clear and sparkling and folding over itself. I see a ribbon of sand.

  Lauren DeStefano

  Ocean, Body, Ribbons

  Lauren DeStefano (2013). “Sever”, p.263, Simon and Schuster

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• It isn’t a perfect place. There are no perfect places. But nobody cares about perfection when there are sand castles to build and kites to chase, children that are being born, old hearts that are giving in.

  Lauren DeStefano

  Children, Heart, Giving

  Lauren DeStefano (2013). “Sever”, p.345, Simon and Schuster

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• He is spent. His mind is mercury again, its brief surge of humanity melting into an oily residue on its surface, and he no longer understands the feelings he felt in that strange moment on the overpass. But he did feel them. They did happen. They rest on the murky seabed of his mind, buried under sand and silt and miles of grey waves. Patient seeds waiting for light.

  Isaac Marion

  Light, Waiting, Feelings

  Isaac Marion (2016). “Warm Bodies and The New Hunger: A Special 5th Anniversary Edition”, p.381, Simon and Schuster

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• How many people came and stayed a certain time, Uttered light or dark speech that became part of you Like light behind windblown fog and sand Filtered and influenced by it, until no part Remains that is surely you.

  John Ashbery

  Dark, Light, Fog

  John Ashbery (1986). “Selected Poems”, Penguin Group USA

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• The sun was bobbing on the horizon, just peeking over. Its light shimmered on the sand behind you, making your body look like it was glowing … like it had a kind of aura.

  Lucy Christopher

  Light, Glowing, Peeking

  Lucy Christopher (2014). “Stolen”, p.44, Scholastic Inc.

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• The sand stretched out gray and ghostlike and illuminated, a column of light leading forward. It was like something a dead person would see, a tunnel leading toward heaven.

  Lucy Christopher

  Tunnels, Light, Heaven

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• In this single galaxy of ours there are eighty-seven thousand million suns. [...] In challenging it, you would be like ants attempting to label and classify all the grains of sand in all the deserts of the world. [...] It is a bitter thought, but you must face it. The planets you may one day possess. But the stars are not for man.

  Arthur C. Clarke

  Stars, Men, Challenges

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• The emotions attached to them were like sand castles in the tide, slowly washing out to sea.

  Nicholas Sparks

  Sea, Castles, Tides

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• Some people simply bury their heads in the sand and refuse to think about the sorrow of the world, but this is an unwise course, because, if we are entirely unprepared, the tragedy of life can be devastating.

  Karen Armstrong

  Thinking, People, Sorrow

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• His heart is a desert island.... The whole scope, the whole energy of his mind surround and protect him; his depths isolate him and guard him against the truth. He flatters himself that he is entirely alone there.... Patience, dear lady. Perhaps, one day, he will discover some footprint on the sand.... What holy and happy terror, what salutary fright, once he recognizes in that pure sign of grace that his island is mysteriously inhabited!

  Paul Valery

  Heart, Islands, Grace

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• I walk across the dreaming sands under the pale moon: through the dreams of countries and cities, past dreams of places long gone and times beyond recall.

  Neil Gaiman

  Country, Dream, Past

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• The cycle hit the beach and spun out. Emma went into a rolling crouch as she flew free of it, keeping her elbows in, pushing the air hard out of her lungs. She turned her head as she hit the sand, slapping her palms down to roll herself forward, absorbing the impact of the fall through her arms and shoulders, her knees folding up into her chest. The stars wheeled crazily overhead as she spun, sucking in her breath as her body slowed its rolling. She came to a stop on her back, her hair and clothes full of sand and her ears full of the sound of the wildly crashing ocean.

  Cassandra Clare

  Beach, Stars, Fall

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• I give myself the luxury of time in shaping a song. It's very common for me to work three months or more on a single song. Plotting takes time and effort, for there are many false turns. I fill up pages and pages with my mistakes, thereby eliminating them. Eventually a trail is broken through this mountain of mistakes. Sometimes it's as easy as putting eggs in a basket; other times it's like trying to pound a ton of sand into a diamond.

  David Massengill

  Song, Mistake, Writing

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• 

  Sometimes, that mountain you've been climbing, is just a grain of sand.

  Carrie Underwood

  Climbing, Mountain, Sometimes

  Song: So Small, Album: Carnival Ride, 2007

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• Studios and networks who ignore either shift - whether the increasing sophistication of storytelling, or the constantly shifting sands of technological advancement - will be left behind.

  Kevin Spacey

  Advancement, Shifting, Storytelling

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• Worry and anxiety are sand in the machinery of life; faith is the oil.

  E. Stanley Jones

  Christian, Oil, Worry

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• Amid this vast and overwhelming space and in these boundless solar archipelagoes, how small is our own sphere, and the earth, what a grain of sand!

  Hippolyte Taine

  Space, Earth, Spheres

  Hippolyte Taine (1876). “The Modern Régime”

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• Nothing is more satisfying than to write a good sentence. It is no fun to write lumpishly, dully, in prose the reader must plod through like wet sand. But it is a pleasure to achieve, if one can, a clear running prose that is simple yet full of surprises. This does not just happen. It requires skill, hard work, a good ear, and continued practice.

  Barbara Tuchman

  Running, Fun, Hard Work

  Barbara W. Tuchman (2011). “Practicing History: Selected Essays”, p.48, Random House

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