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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• El presente fluía junto a ellos como un arroyo. El árbol crujía. Había hecho música antes de que ellos nacieran, y seguiría haciéndolo después de sus muertes, pero su canción era del momento. El momento había pasado. El árbol volvió a crujir. Sus sentidos se agudizaron y parecieron comprender la vida. La vida pasó. El árbol volvió a crujir.

  E. M. Forster

  Canción, Árbol, Momentos

  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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• Todo el viaje fue extraño y onírico: el arroyo rugiente, la hierba húmeda y gris, los acantilados resplandecientes a los que se acercaban, y siempre la gloriosa bestia que avanzaba en silencio.

  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

  Lluvia, Hombres, Ríos

  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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• Dime la palabra que te ganará, y yo la pronunciaré. Hablaré de las estrellas del cielo como una corona para tu cabeza; hablaré de las flores del campo como un manto; hablaré de la corriente que corre como una melodía para tus oídos y de las voces de mil alondras para cantarla; hablaré de la suavidad de la noche para tu cama y del calor del verano para tu manto; hablaré del brillo de la llama para iluminar tu camino y del lustre del oro para que brille en tu sonrisa; hablaré hasta que la dureza que hay en ti se derrita y tu corazón sea libre.

  Stephen R. Lawhead

  Verano, Estrellas, Flor

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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" (canción) (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

  Verano, Correr, Libro

  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

  País, Hombres, Ríos

  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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• Pero primero, en la tierra como vampiro enviado, Tu cadáver será arrancado de su tumba, Entonces espantoso rondará tu lugar nativo, Y chupará la sangre de toda tu raza. Allí, de tu hija, hermana, esposa, a medianoche drena la corriente de la vida, pero aborrece el banquete que forzosamente debe alimentar tu lívido cadáver viviente. Tus víctimas, antes de expirar, conocerán al demonio como su padre, pues maldiciéndote a ti, tú maldiciéndolas a ellas, tus flores se marchitan en el tallo.

  Lord Byron

  Hija, Flor, Sangre

  Lord Byron (2013). "Obras completas Delphi de Lord Byron (Ilustradas)", 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

  Hombres, Años, Clase

  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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• Puede que cuando ya no sepamos... qué camino tomar hayamos comenzado nuestro verdadero viaje. La mente que no se desconcierta no se emplea. La corriente impedida es la que canta.

  Wendell Berry

  Real, Journey, Mind

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

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• Dios es el bien supremo de la criatura razonable. Gozar de Él es lo que nos es propio; y es la única felicidad con la que nuestras almas pueden estar satisfechas. Ir al cielo, gozar plenamente de Dios, es infinitamente mejor que los alojamientos más agradables de aquí. Mejor que padres y madres, maridos, esposas o hijos, o que la compañía de cualquiera o de todos los amigos terrenales. Éstos no son más que sombras; pero el goce de Dios es la sustancia. No son más que rayos dispersos, pero Dios es el sol. No son más que arroyos, pero Dios es la fuente. No son más que gotas, pero Dios es el océano.

  Jonathan Edwards

  Madre, Hijos, Marido

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

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