Best 142 quotes in «sand quotes» category

Once the will is resolved, one's spirit is strengthened. Even a peasant's will is hard to deny, but a samurai of resolute will can sway ten thou­sand men.

Nothing like the road to rub all the sand out of your soul.

On the tawny sands and shelves trip the pert fairies and the dapper elves.

Philosophies fall away like sand, and creeds follow on another like the withered leaves of Autumn.

Putting our heads in the sand is not a wise strategy.

Sand. Everywhere. In the bed, in the shower, all over the floor. Grrrrr.

Sticking your head in the sand might make you feel safer, but it’s not going to protect you from the coming storm.

Talking wisely to the ignorant is throwing precious seeds to the desert sands!

My heart is sand and Orion's cruel tide has washed it away from me, scattered it, lost it.

Sand is overrated. It's just tiny little rocks.

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.

The sand-castle virtues are all swept away in the tidal destruction, the moral melee.

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.

The Bible talks about building houses on sand and rock, but says nothing about a brick house built on a blanket.

There's something incredibly sexy about sand and sweat and dunes photographed like women's backs.

The Sand Pebbles has always been one of my favorite films, I suppose because its the most difficult film - from a physical and logistical standpoint - that I've ever made.

The sands of time are quicksands ... so much can sink into them without a trace.

The wretched Artist himself is alternatively the lowest worm that ever crawled when no fire is in him; or the loftiest God that ever sand when the fire is going.

The Word of God is ROCK. All else is sand.

We're ostriches and the whole world is sand.

We are too prone to engrave our trials in marble and write our blessings in sand.

We have ...drawn a line in the sand.

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.

We write a subscript to our mortality. We make our lives tiny diamonds in the cosmic sands.

We shall not enter Palestine with its soil covered in sand, we shall enter it with its soil saturated in blood

We write our names in the sand: and then the waves roll in and wash them away.

What a rope of sand we are without a leader.

When you're making a psychological thriller, what you need to do is have an audience on shifting sand so they're never quite sure where they are.

You cannot build your life with a consistent worldview that is on the shifting sands of moral relativism.

You can't leave footprints in the sands of time while sitting down.

You must not lose confidence in God because you lost confidence in your pastor. If our confidence in God had to depend upon our confidence in any human person, we would be on shifting sand.

A falcon. I can see that. I thought you said nothing lived here?” Sand’s face went blank. “There was nothing alive, except for me, until Merlin. And then you.” Perrotte bit back her exasperation, and said simply, “Go on.” He twined his blunt-tipped fingers together, staring down at them. “I, erm. I found the falcon in the mews.” “So, it’s not true that there was nothing alive in the castle?” “The truth is . . . Well, the truth is the truth, and thus worth telling, but sometimes truths are so complicated that it’s exhausting to get them out in the right order.” He glanced up at her. That sounded like an evasion if ever she’d heard one. She raised an eyebrow. “The falcon was dead!” Sand blurted out. “Stuffed and mounted, and then also damaged in the sundering. I mended him, and put him on the mantel, so I’d have something to talk to. But a couple days before you—you came upstairs—” He gestured helplessly at the bird, who stopped stripping water from its feathers just long enough to glare at the humans. Perrotte stared. “The bird came to life,” she whispered. “After you put it to rights, this falcon came to life. Just like me.” “Well . . .

Ahead of me is the open desert, hot and merciless. Behind me is Sand. I don't turn back; I don't say goodbye. The Bullet Catcher carves a straight line through the desert, walking towards the distant mountains. And I follow.

And turnips - endless ruptured turnips.

A place where a clock's minute and hour hands spread away from its face, flapping like wings. A place where he'd pluck a daisy and watch the petals whirl like the propellers of a helicopter. Where he'd throw a handful of sand, and the grains would buzz away like a swarm of gnats. Where colorful fruits on a tree would burst into flight, and new ones would perch in their place.

Are we etched in stone or just scratched in the sand Waiting for the waves to come and reclaim the land? tightrope - stone roses

Are you suggesting we eat cursed fruit? Vicious fruit? Attacking fruit?

A scent of jasmine and a rasp of sand.

By the sandy water I breathe in the odor of the sea, From there the wind comes and blows over the world, By the sandy water I breathe in the odor of the sea, From there the clouds come and rain falls over the world.

Dear Waves, You have been restless all your life? Or maybe uneasy? I don't know quite. Oscillating between faiths, swinging between shores! Yet when we sit next to you on those sands, do you never feel like sharing what bothers you so much?

Deserts are full of sand and winds are full of air, both are full of something but both look quite empty and when they get to pair it’s easy to see they are almighty.

Don't cheat the foundation of a house because you want to save for the roofing for at the end, you will have only roofed rubbles.

Don't only learn from the rich and successful men, also learn from the poor and those that failed woefully, for in their failures lies the secret of success as well.

Don't sell the warmer for an air conditioner just because its summer, for in winter, you will have to do the reverse.

Every second that passes is another grain of sand in your hourglass that is gone, forever lost in time.

Gentle swells had replaced the angry waves of yesterday. The gentle breakers made their way to shore glinting with green as they somersaulted to shore. The waves showed an edge of lacy foam that caressed the sand. It was peaceful.

...He sat back on his heels and watched the stars one by one cut their way through onrushing darkness, till all was reversed, day was night, and the blackness glittered with all the desert's sands, each a tiny flame beyond the bounds of time.

How did you get into the castle, Alexandre, son of Gilles Smith?” Sand shrugged. “A saint kidnapped me from his shrine and put me into a fireplace here. So I guess the answer is, a miracle of Saint Melor. Or so I think. He has not told me.” “If you are trying to antagonize him, you are doing a good job,” Perrotte whispered. Sand scuffed his shoe at her. “I’m just telling the truth!” “You’re very good at telling it in the most maddening way possible.” “Thank you?

I breathe in... the fragrance of love, and moist sand the one his roses left on both my hands I just keep on breathing every moment as much as I can preserving it, in my body for the day it can’t.

Well, actually, I do the voiceover for Quentin Sands.