Camomille: Fallible men write books. God writes in sunlight and rivers and planets. Isn't the Universe a good book? I trust it above the printed kind.
There is another alphabet, whispering from every leaf, singing from every river, shimmering from every sky.
The other day, when I was deciding where to place a mountain range, how to make a river's flow detour around underground stalactite caves, and what precise color to give the sky at sunset, I realized I was God... or an artist and a writer.
She has that quality, does the Hudson, as I imagine all great rivers do: the deep, abiding sense that those activities what take place on shore among human beings are of the moment, passing, and aren't the stories by way of which the greater tale of this planet will, in the end, be told.
My mother once wrote a poem about rivers. They were women, she wrote. Starting out small girls, tiny streams decorated with wildflowers. They were torrents, gouging paths through sheer granite, flinging themselves off cliffs, fearless and irresistible. Later, they grew fat servicable, broad slow curves carrying commerce and sewage, but in their unconscious depths catfish gorged, grew the size of barges, and in the hundred-year storms, they rose up, forgetting the promises they made, the wedding vows, and drowned everything for miles around. Finally they gave out, birth-emptied, malarial, into a fan of swamps that met the ocean.
A person could stop a specific thing, but they couldn’t stop change in general. Rivers can’t run backward. Yet, he felt there must be an alternative, neither willfulness nor resignation. He couldn’t put words to it. All he knew was, neither of them had changed their minds and neither of them could find anything more to say.
… the river sliding along its banks, darker now than the sky descending a last time to scatter its diamonds into these black waters that contain the day that passed, the night to come. — Excerpt from the poem “The Mercy
I've known rivers:I've known rivers ancient as the world and older than the flow of human blood in human veins.My soul has grown deep like the rivers.
If the river has a soul, it's a peaceful one. If it has a lesson to impart, that lesson is patience. There will be drought, it says; there will be floods; the ice will form, the ice will melt; the water will flow and blend into the river's brackish mouth, then join the ocean between Lewes and Cape May, endlessly, forever, amen.
Don’t let the horrible nature of the waters prevent you from crossing the rivers of life. The more horrible the challenges we face, the sweeter the joy of conquering them.
Bridges take people across rivers. Leaders take people across ignorance. With a leader, the destination of a journey is sure.
The marketplace is an institution that teaches self-advancement, private acquisition, and the domination of nature. Its way of thinking is incompatible with the round river. Ecological harmony is a nonmarket value that takes a collective will to achieve.
The river itself portrays humanity precisely, with its tortuous windings, its accumulation of driftwood, its unsuspected depths, and its crystalline shallows, singing in the Summer sun. Barriers may be built across its path, but they bring only power, as the conquering of an obstacle is always sure to do. Sometimes when the rocks and stone-clad hills loom large ahead, and eternity itself would be needed to carve a passage, there is an easy way around. The discovery of it makes the river sing with gladness and turns the murmurous deeps to living water, bright with ripples and foam.
A dam is monumentally static; it tries to bring a river under control, to regulate its seasonal pattern of floods and low flow.
There's something very enticing about an empty bench under a tree. And if it's facing a river, that's the bench for me.
If men would understand and appreciate the good efforts that went into creation and how beautiful, good and awesome the creations were at the beginning, they would never think of undermining the Creators effort and integrity by destroying the beauty of nature! God is watching us!
Our lives can be compared to beautiful streams, which are destined to flow, grow in majesty to create wonderful features such as cascading waterfalls, and give nourishment and life to those in its path. Inshan Meahjohn
Of four infernal rivers that disgorge/ Into the burning Lake their baleful streams;/Abhorred Styx the flood of deadly hate,/Sad Acheron of sorrow, black and deep;/Cocytus, nam'd of lamentation loud/ Heard on the rueful stream; fierce Phlegethon/ Whose waves of torrent fire inflame with rage./ Far off from these a slow and silent stream,/ Lethe the River of Oblivion rolls/ Her wat'ry Labyrinth whereof who drinks,/ Forthwith his former state and being forgets,/ Forgets both joy and grief, pleasure and pain.
As long as some sufferThe River Flows ForeverAs long as there is painThe River Flows ForeverAs strong as a smile can beThe River will Flow Forever
I almost moved mountains, touched rivers, impressed deserts and motivated skies, but I never made it to your heart.
The only way he could have her was to shatter this stubborn faith of hers. In doing so, would he shatter her? What has this god of yours ever really done for you? She stood very still for a long moment, her back to him. Everything.
The crocodiles that frighten from crossing the rivers of our destinies are easily drowned with personal confidence but not team courage. It means you owe it to yourself to defeat your own crocodiles and cross over to the other side!
When Jordan was a baby he sat on top of me much as a fly rests on a hill of dung. And I nourished him as a hill of dung nourishes a fly, and when he had eaten his fill he left me.Jordan...I should have named him after a stagnant pond and then I could have kept him, but I named him after a river and in the flood-tide he slipped away.
Water is sagacious because it carries inside of itself the bottomless profundity of oceans, the cosmic looks of the clouds, subtle wits of the rivers, the inquisitive character of the rains and the silent meditation of the little lakes!
See men for miles around give nature what she needs,rivers and rivers and rivers of it. You exhale with perfecthappiness. Nature turned you down in high school. Now you can come in her eye.
Just as every crop performs on its specific type of soil, and not all fishes can grow in every kind of water, so is leadership. You can’t lead where you can’t thrive; you can lead where you can survive!
Rivers don’t drink their own waters, trees don’t eat their own fruits. The salt seasons the soup in order to have its purpose fulfilled. Live for others!
Break every chain of mediocrity that confines you. You may have begun at a level below average, but dare to leave that side and paddle your steps to cross the river with honours.
The whole purpose of the construction of The Bridge of Silver Wings was to provide a path leading to The River of Winged Dreams, or to serve as a resting place until the river’s deeper and truer nature revealed itself.
Do you know who your grand grand grand grand grand father is? Probably you don’t! If you want to know your very distant past, just look at yourself because you are the accumulated past, you are the ancient river coming from the valleys of the far past!