Streams Quotes - Page 11

• Throw a stone into the stream and the ripples that propagate themselves are the beautiful type of all influence.

  Ralph Waldo Emerson

  Beautiful, Stones, Influence

  Ralph Waldo Emerson, Edward Waldo Emerson (1904). “The Complete Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson: With a Biographical Introduction and Notes”

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• ...like that star of the waning summer who beyond all stars rises bathed in the ocean stream to glitter in brilliance.

  Homer

  Summer, Stars, Ocean

  Homer (2011). “The Iliad of Homer”, p.145, University of Chicago Press

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• Nothing can happen more than once, but everything must happen one day; Over hill and dale, wood and stream, my dying voice will blow away. . .

  Michael Ende

  Blow, Voice, Dying

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• The present flowed by them like a stream. The tree rustled. It had made music before they were born, and would continue after their deaths, but its song was of the moment. The moment had passed. The tree rustled again. Their senses were sharpened, and they seemed to apprehend life. Life passed. The tree rustled again.

  E. M. Forster

  Song, Tree, Moments

  E. M. Forster (2013). “Delphi Collected Works of E. M. Forster (Illustrated)”, p.771, Delphi Classics

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• I climbed a path and from the top looked up-stream towards Chile. I could see the river, glinting and sliding through the bone-white cliffs with strips of emerald cultivation either side. Away from the cliffs was the desert. There was no sound but the wind, whirring through thorns and whistling through dead grass, and no other sign of life but a hawk, and a black beetle easing over white stones.

  Bruce Chatwin

  Wind, Rivers, White

  Bruce Chatwin (2003). “In Patagonia”, p.39, Penguin

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• The whole journey was odd and dream-like -- the roaring stream, the wet grey grass, the glimmering cliffs which they were approaching, and always the glorious, silently pacing beast ahead.

  C. S. Lewis

  Dream, Journey, Roaring

  C.S.Lewis (2016). “The Chronicles of Narnia Vol II: Prince Caspian”, p.109, ENRICH CULTURE GROUP LIMITED

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• Gavroche had fallen only to rise again; he sat up, a long stream of blood rolled down his face, he raised both arms in air, looked in the direction whence the shot came, and began to sing.

  Victor Hugo

  Air, Blood, Long

  Victor Hugo (2012). “Les Miserables”, p.487, Simon and Schuster

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• Take almost any path you please, and ten to one it carries you down in a dale, and leaves you there by a pool in the stream. There is magic in it. Let the most absent-minded of men be plunged in his deepest reveries--stand that man on his legs, set his feet a-going, and he will infallibly lead you to water, if water there be in all that region. Should you ever be athirst in the great American desert, try this experiment, if your caravan happen to be supplied with a metaphysical professor. Yes, as every one knows, meditation and water are wedded for ever.

  Herman Melville

  Rain, Men, Rivers

  Herman Melville (2015). “Annotated Moby Dick or, the Whale with English Grammar Exercises: by Herman Melville (Author), Robert Powell (Editor)”, p.5, Powell Publications, LLC

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• Tell me the word that will win you, and I will speak it. I will speak the stars of heaven into a crown for your head; I will speak the flowers of the field into a cloak; I will speak the racing stream into a melody for your ears and the voices of a thousand larks to sing it; I will speak the softness of night for your bed and the warmth of summer for your coverlet; I will speak the brightness of flame to light your way and the luster of gold to shine in your smile; I will speak until the hardness in you melts away and your heart is free.

  Stephen R. Lawhead

  Summer, Stars, Flower

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• As I went walking I saw a sign there And on the sign it said "No Trespassing." But on the other side it didn't say nothing, That side was made for you and me. This land is your land, this land is my land From California to the New York island From the Redwood forest to the Gulf Stream waters This land was made for you and me.

  Woody Guthrie

  New York, Journey, Islands

  "This Land Is Your Land" (song) (1956)

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• A nothing day full of wild beauty .... Little fish stream by, a river in water.

  James Schuyler

  Wild Beauty, Rivers, Water

  James Schuyler (1972). “The Crystal Lithium-Pa”, Random House (NY)

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• His mouth opens. From inside him comes a slow stream, without breath, without interruption. It flows up through his body and out upon me; it passes through the cabin, through the wreck; washing the cliffs and shores of the island, it runs northward and southward to the ends of the earth. Soft and cold, dark and unending, it beats against my eyelids, against the skin of my face.

  J. M. Coetzee

  Running, Dark, Islands

  J. M. Coetzee (2017). “Foe: A Novel”, p.149, Penguin

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• Our life runs down in sending up the clock. The brook runs down in sending up our life. The sun runs down in sending up the brook. And there is something sending up the sun. It is this backward motion toward the source, Against the stream, that most we see ourselves in, The tribute of the current to the source. It is from this in nature we are from. It is most us.

  Robert Frost

  Running, Sun, Clock

  928 'West-Running Brook'.

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• By hook or by crook, I hope that you will possess yourselves of money enough to travel and to idle, to contemplate the future or the past of the world, to dream over books and loiter at street corners and let the line of thought dip deep into the stream

  Virginia Woolf

  Dream, Travel, Book

  Virginia Woolf (2007). “Selected Works of Virginia Woolf”, p.630, Wordsworth Editions

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• Excuse me, I said. I thought you were a trout stream. I'm not, she said.

  Richard Brautigan

  Trout, Excuse, Said

  Richard Brautigan (1989). “Richard Brautigan's Trout Fishing in America ; The Pill Versus the Springhill Mine Disaster ; And, In Watermelon Sugar”, p.5, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

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• This dim coolness of my room was to the broad daylight of the street what the shadow is to the sunbeam, that is to say equally luminous, and presented to my imagination the entire panorama of summer, which my senses, if I had been out walking, could have tasted and enjoyed only piecemeal; and so it was quite in harmony with my state of repose which (thanks to the enlivening adventures related in my books) sustained, like a hand reposing motionless in a stream of running water, the shock and animation of a torrent of activity.

  Marcel Proust

  Summer, Running, Book

  Marcel Proust (2000). “In Search of Lost Time, Volume I: Swann's Way (A Modern Library E-Book)”, p.131, Modern Library

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• When a man must be afraid to drink freely from his country's river and streams that country is no longer fit to live in.

  Edward Abbey

  Country, Men, Rivers

  Edward Abbey (1968). “Desert solitaire: a season in the wilderness”

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• Be wild; that is how to clear the river. The river does not flow in polluted, we manage that. The river does not dry up, we block it. If we want to allow it its freedom, we have to allow our ideational lives to be let loose, to stream, letting anything come, initially censoring nothing. That is creative life. It is made up of divine paradox. To create one must be willing to be stone stupid, to sit upon a throne on top of a jackass and spill rubies from one’s mouth. Then the river will flow, then we can stand in the stream of it raining down.

  Clarissa Pinkola Estes

  Art, Block, Stupid

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• I thought that a man can be an enemy of other men, of the moments of other men, but not of a country: not of fireflies, words, gardens, streams of water, sunsets.

  Jorge Luis Borges

  Country, Sunset, Firefly

  Jorge Luis Borges (1964). “Labyrinths: Selected Stories & Other Writings”, p.23, New Directions Publishing

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• But first, on earth as vampire sent, Thy corse shall from its tomb be rent, Then ghastly haunt thy native place, And suck the blood of all thy race. There from thy daughter, sister, wife, At midnight drain the stream of life, Yet loathe the banquet which perforce Must feed thy livid living corse. Thy victims ere they yet expire Shall know the demon for their sire, As cursing thee, thou cursing them, Thy flowers are withered on the stem.

  Lord Byron

  Daughter, Flower, Blood

  Lord Byron (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Lord Byron (Illustrated)”, p.768, Delphi Classics

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• What sense would it make to classify a man as handicapped because he is in a wheelchair today, if he is expected to be walking again in a month, and competing in track meets before the year is out? Yet Americans are generally given 'class' labels on the basis of their transient location in the income stream. If most Americans do not stay in the same broad income bracket for even a decade, their repeatedly changing 'class' makes class itself a nebulous concept. Yet the intelligentsia are habituated, if not addicted, to seeing the world in class terms.

  Thomas Sowell

  Men, Years, Class

  Thomas Sowell (1995). “The Vision of the Anointed: Self-congratulation as a Basis for Social Policy”, Basic Books

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• It is when we are trapped in incessant streams of compulsive thinking that the universe really disintegrates for us, and we lose the ability to sense the interconnectedness of all that exists.

  Eckhart Tolle

  Spiritual, Thinking, Incessant

  Eckhart Tolle (2006). “A New Earth (Oprah #61): Awakening to Your Life's Purpose”, p.168, Penguin

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• She leaned down and looked at his lifeless face and Leisel kissed her best friend, Rudy Steiner, soft and true on his lips. He tasted dusty and sweet. He tasted like regret in the shadows of trees and in the glow of the anarchist's suit collection. She kissed him long and soft, and when she pulled herself away, she touched his mouth with her fingers...She did not say goodbye. She was incapable, and after a few more minutes at his side, she was able to tear herself from the ground. It amazes me what humans can do, even when streams are flowing down their faces and they stagger on.

  Markus Zusak

  Love, Goodbye, Sweet

  "The Book Thief". Book by Markus Zusak, 2005.

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• It may be that when we no longer know... which way to go we have begun our real journey. The mind that is not baffled is not employed. The impeded stream is the one that sings.

  Wendell Berry

  Real, Journey, Mind

  "Standing by Words: Essays". Book by Wendell Berry, 2011.

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• God is the highest good of the reasonable creature. The enjoyment of him is our proper; and is the only happiness with which our souls can be satisfied. To go to heaven, fully to enjoy God, is infinitely better than the most pleasant accommodations here. Better than fathers and mothers, husbands, wives, or children, or the company of any, or all earthly friends. These are but shadows; but the enjoyment of God is the substance. These are but scattered beams; but God is the sun. These are but streams; but God is the fountain. These are but drops, but God is the ocean.

  Jonathan Edwards

  Mother, Children, Husband

  Jonathan Edwards (1785). “The life and character of ... J. E. ... Together with a number of his sermons, etc”, p.381

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