Sand Quotes - Page 28

• Happy. Just in my swim shorts, barefooted, wild-haired, in the red fire dark, singing, swigging wine, spitting, jumping, running - that's the way to live. All alone and free in the soft sands of the beach.

  Jack Kerouac

  Running, Beach, Wine

  Jack Kerouac (1986). “The Dharma Bums”, p.7, Penguin

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• We take a handful of sand from the endless landscape of awareness around us and call that handful of sand the world.

  Robert M. Pirsig

  World, Landscape, Awareness

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• Writing a first draft and reminding myself that I'm simply shoveling sand into a box so that later I can build castles.

  Shannon Hale

  Writing, Castles, Firsts

  Twitter post from Mar 1, 2011

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• Outside, the ocean was crashing, waves hitting sand, then pulling back to sea. I thought of everything being washed away, again and again. We make such messes in this life, both accidentally and on purpose. But wiping the surface clean doesn't really make anything neater. It just masks what is below. It's only when you really dig down deep, go underground, that you can see who you really are.

  Sarah Dessen

  Life, Ocean, Sea

  Sarah Dessen (2011). “What Happened to Goodbye”, p.213, Penguin UK

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• When you accept everything, everything is beyond dimensions. The earth is not great nor a grain of sand small. In the realm of Great Activity picking up a grain of sand is the same as taking up the whole universe. To save one sentient being is to save all sentient beings. Your efforts of this moment to save one person is the same as the eternal merit of Buddha.

  Shunryu Suzuki

  Effort, Earth, Dimensions

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• I dreamt we walked together along the shore. We made satisfying small talk and laughed. This morning I found sand in my shoe and a seashell in my pocket. Was I only dreaming?

  Maya Angelou

  Dream, Morning, Shoes

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• From my spirit's gray defeat, From my pulse's flagging beat, From my hopes that turned to sand Sifting through my close-clenched hand, From my own fault's slavery, If I can sing, I still am free. For with my singing I can make A refuge for my spirit's sake, A house of shining words, to be My fragile immortality.

  Sara Teasdale

  Hands, House, Shining

  Sara Teasdale (1917). “Love Songs”

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• What is the sound of one hand clapping? What is the weight of a single grain of sand? The answer is equal to my interest in the message you are about to leave. So make it short.

  Meg Cabot

  Hands, Voice, Sound

  "Boy Meets Girl (The Boy Series)". Book by Meg Cabot, January 6, 2004.

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• You’d better get busy, though, buddy. The goddam sands run out on you every time You turn around. I know what I’m talking about. You’re lucky if you get time to sneeze In this goddam phenomenal world.

  J. D. Salinger

  Running, Talking, Lucky

  "Zooey (1957)". "Franny and Zooey". Book by J. D. Salinger, 1961.

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• ...like a grain of sand that gets into an oyster's shell. What if the grain doesn't want to become a pearl? Is it ever asked to climb out quietly and take up its old position as a bit of ocean floor?

  Robin McKinley

  Ocean, Oysters, What If

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• Right at that moment it was as if we were the only two people left in the world. And I don't mean that to sound corny; it just honestly did. The only sounds were the droning crickets and chip-chips of the bats, the farawy wind against the sand, and the occasional distant yowl of a dingo. There were no car horns.No trains. No jack-hammers. No lawnmowers No planes. No sirens. No alarms. No anything human. If you'd told me that you'd saved me from a nuclear holocaust, I might have believed you.

  Lucy Christopher

  Mean, Wind, Two

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• Safe upon the solid rock the ugly houses stand. Come and see my shining palace built upon the sand!

  Edna St. Vincent Millay

  Rocks, House, Shining

  A Few Figs From Thistles (1920) "Second Fig"

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• That whole week, we started to divide things into those two categories: anything or something. A piece of jewelry bougth at a department store: anything. A piece of jewelry made by hand: something. A dollar: anything. A sand dollar: something. A gift certificate: anything. An IOU for two hours of starwatching: something. A drunk kiss at a party: anything. A sober kiss alone in a park: something.

  David Levithan

  Party, Kissing, Hands

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• The piebald mare paws at the sand; I see her digging out of the corner of my eye and hear her grinding her teeth. That bridle's her curse, this island her prison. She still smells of rot.

  Maggie Stiefvater

  Eye, Islands, Smell

  Maggie Stiefvater (2011). “The Scorpio Races”, p.98, Scholastic UK

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• Tell me what it's like. The race." "What it's like is a battle. A mess of horses and men and blood. The fastest and strongest of what is left from two weeks of preparation on the sand. It's the surf in your face, the deadly magic of November on your skin, the Scorpio drums in the place of your heartbeat. It's speed, if you're lucky. It's life and it's death or it's both, and there's nothing like it.

  Maggie Stiefvater

  Horse, Men, Race

  Maggie Stiefvater (2011). “The Scorpio Races”, p.333, Scholastic UK

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• You walk for days among trees and among stones. Rarely does the eye light on a thing, and then only when it has recognized that thing as the sign of another thing: a print in the sand indicates the tiger's passage; a marsh announces a vein of water; the hibiscus flower, the end of winter. All the rest is silent and interchangeable; trees and stones are only what they are.

  Italo Calvino

  Flower, Eye, Winter

  Italo Calvino (2013). “Invisible Cities”, p.21, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

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• Two lost things that had survived the seas and arrived on a coastline. What did they do? They implanted themselves in the sand and grew into trees and lined the beaches. Sometimes a lot can come of being all washed up. You can really grow.

  Cecelia Ahern

  Beach, Sea, Two

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• Do I love you? My God, if your love were a grain of sand, mine would be a universe of beaches! If your love were-" "I don't understand that first one yet," Buttercup interrupted. She was starting to get very excited now. "Let me get this straight. Are you saying my love is a grain of sand and yours is this other thing? Images confuse me so - is this universal business of yours bigger than my sand? Help me, Westley. I have the feeling we're on the verge of something just terribly important.

  William Goldman

  Beach, Love You, Love Is

  William Goldman (2013). “The Princess Bride”, p.47, A&C Black

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• Nothing like poetry when you lie awake at night. It keeps the old brain limber. It washes away the mud and sand that keeps on blocking up the bends. Like waves to make the pebbles dance on my old floors. And turn them into rubies and jacinths; or at any rate, good imitations.

  Joyce Cary

  Lying, Block, Night

  Joyce Cary (1957). “THE HORSE'S MOUTH”

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• We, their hearts, become fearful just thinking of loved ones who go away forever, or of moments that could have been good but weren't, or of moments that could have been found but were forever hidden in the sands.

  Paulo Coelho

  Heart, Thinking, Forever

  Paulo Coelho (1998). “The Alchemist - 10th Anniversary Edition”, HarperSanFrancisco

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• I...asked why purebloods despised me so. He replied, 'What if the difference between social strata stem not from genomics or inherent xcellence or even dollars, but merely differences in knowledge? Would this not mean the whole Pyramid is built on shifting sands?... fabricants are mirrors held up to purebloods' consciences; what purebloods see reflected there sickens them. So they blame you for holding up the mirror

  David Mitchell

  Mean, Mirrors, Pyramids

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• Does anyone ask you why you stay, Sean Kendrick?" "They do." "And why do you?" "The sky and the sand and the sea and Corr.

  Maggie Stiefvater

  Sea, Sky, Doe

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• We have a definite but unknown quantity of experience at our disposal. As soon as the hourglass is turned, the sand will begin to run out and once it starts, it cannot stop until it's all gone.

  Pablo Picasso

  Running, Gone, Hourglass

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• This land, although not my native land, Will be remembered forever. And the sea's lightly iced, Unsalty water. The sand on the bottom is whiter than chalk, The air is heady, like wine, And the rosy body of the pines Is naked in the sunset hour. And the sunset itself on such waves of ether That I just can't comprehend Whether it is the end of the day, the end of the world, Or the mystery of mysteries in me again.

  Anna Akhmatova

  Wine, Sunset, Air

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• The whole of the world could be deduced from the smallest grain of sand, if one studied it closely enough.

  Christopher Paolini

  World, Enough, Grain

  Christopher Paolini (2012). “Inheritance Deluxe Edition (The Inheritance Cycle, Book 4)”, Knopf Books for Young Readers

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