Best 142 quotes in «sand quotes» category

I'm just saying it's not all sand castles and ninjas.

I have a superstition that if I talk about plot, it's like letting sand out of a hole in the bottom of a bag.

I'm working so much I don't see the work of many young cartoonists so it's hard for me to tell which are my favourites. Maybe when I get to stick my head out of the sand I'll be able to let you know.

I have met a great celebrity, Madame Dudevant, known as George Sand... Her appearance is not to my liking. Indeed there is something about her which positively repels me... What an unattractive person La Sand is... Is she really a woman? I'm inclined to doubt it.

In Aleppo we had the missile itself, and the material, and the sample from the sand, from the soil, and samples from the blood [of chemical weapons].

I see an ocean that’s spilled out of a wineglass, its body clear and sparkling and folding over itself. I see a ribbon of sand.

I see upon their noble brows the seal of the Lord, for they were born kings of the earth far more truly than those who possess it only from having bought it.

I stand amid the roar Of a surf-tormented shore, And I hold within my hand Grains of golden sand- How few! yet how they creep Through my fingers to the deep, While I weep- while I weep!

Incredibly, almost every hotel I ever played in Vegas was blown up shortly afterward: The Dunes, The Sands, The Landmark, The Aladdin, The Frontier, The Hacienda, The Stardust - all were imploded.

I was signed to MGM. I was in Vegas for sixteen weeks at the Sands Hotel.

It is one thing to do your dance on a beach and quite another to collaborate intimately with the sand.

James Delaney as an individual is sort of like a grain of sand in an oyster who is irritating all of them. But for me he's a creature of the time, like the industrialists who started the Industrial Revolution who extricated themselves from their class and their background

I sat down in the sand, breathless with shame and failure. God, I thought, some defender of the weak. Some freedom fighter: Joan of Arc in sunscreen.

Junkies find veins in their toes when the veins in their arms collapse. Developing tars sands is the equivalent.

Like the sand and the oyster, it's a creative irritant. In each poem, I'm trying to reveal a truth, so it can't have a fictional beginning.

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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 have ...drawn a line in the sand.

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.

We're ostriches and the whole world is sand.

When we trust ourselves, ascents become descents, difficulties turn into easinesses, rocks transform into sands and swords into melting candles!

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

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.

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.

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.