Best 3787 quotes in «water quotes» category

He smirks, shaking his head and letting his eyes wander. I watch him carefully, wondering what I can say to get him to leave. “I’m not leaving until you answer some questions. Plus, I’m holding your sketchbook hostage, so you might want to cooperate.” I raise an eyebrow at him. I guess there isn’t much I can say. “This isn’t a hostage negotiation.” He chuckles half-heartedly as his eyes take me in, almost sizing me up. “I guess I should introduce myself.” He holds a hand out for me to shake. “I’m Nathan.” I stare at his hand for a moment. “Taylor,” I reply, meeting his eyes again without taking his hand. He lets his hand fall back to his side. “At least I got you to say something non-hostile.” “I haven’t been hostile,” I object. His eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, haven’t you?” “Why don’t you leave me alone?” I snap. “Leave and don’t come back.” I move passed him, heading for my apartment. He can’t follow and annoy me if I lock the door. “Where are you going?” he demands. I look back over my shoulder and roll my eyes at him, indicating the answer should be obvious: anywhere he isn’t. Once inside, I slam the door behind me. “That was totally not hostile!” he calls after me, sarcastically. I quickly head for my bedroom door, slamming it, too.

He stepped forward and took the butterfly hanging around my neck between his two fingers: “This will remind me, both of my mistake and how much I care for you.” He took another step closer so we were only inches apart, and his hand moved to the back of my shoulder where Shawn’s mark still scarred my skin. “And I hope this will never heal. It will remind me to never take anything for granted; other people’s intentions, your safety, or . . . you.

He stares at me—taking me in—with his lips slightly parted. I struggle to hold myself in place as we gawk at each other. I want so desperately to run, but something is holding me back, keeping me in place.

He understood her affinity to the water, inspiring as it was beautiful, and soothing to the soul. Standing there that morning, he realized he would never be able to look at the ocean again without thinking of her, and somehow he was still comforted by that thought.

History doesn’t start with a tall building and a card with your name written on it, but jokes do. I think someone is taking us for suckers and is playing a mean game.

History has a way of chasing gravity just like water, feeding into other parts of itself to become something else, something larger and grander, until the one pure thing it was no longer exists.

He who poured water on the ground seizes the mighty in misery.

--How I Was Visited By Messengers-- Something clicked in the clock on the wall, and I was visited by messengers. at first, I did not realize that I was visited by messengers. instead, I thought that something was wrong with the clock. but then I saw that the clock worked just fine, and probably told the correct time. then I noticed that there was a draft in the room. and then it shocked me: what kind of thing could, at the same time, cause a clock to click and a draft to start in the room? I sat down on a chair next to the divan and looked at the clock, thinking about that. the big hand was on the number nine, and the little one on the four, therefore, it was a quarter till four. there was a calendar on the wall below the clock, and its leafs were flipping, as if there was a strong wind in my room. my heart was beating very fast and I was so scared it almost made me collapse. "i should have some water," I said. on the table next to me was a pitcher with water. I reached out and took the pitcher. "water should help," I said and looked at the water. it was then that I realized that I had been visited by messengers, and that I could not tell them apart from the water. I was scared to drink the water, because I could, by accident, drink a messenger. what does that mean? nothing. one can only drink liquids. could the messengers be liquid? no. then, I can drink the water, there is nothing to be afraid of. but I couldn't find the water. I walked around the room and looked for the water. I tried putting a belt in my mouth, but it was not the water. I put the calendar in my mouth -- that also was not the water. I gave up looking for the water and started to look for the messengers. but how could I find them? what do they look like? I remembered that I could not distinguish them from the water, therefore, they must look like water. but what does water look like? I was standing and thinking. I do not know for how long I stood and thought, but suddenly I came to. "there is the water," I thought. but that wasn't the water and instead I got an itch in my ear. I looked under the cupboard and under the bed, hoping that there I might find the water or the messengers. but under the cupboard, in a pile of dust, I found a little ball, half eaten by a dog, and under the bed I found some pieces of glass. under the chair I found a half-eaten steak, I ate it and it made me feel better. it wasn't drafty anymore, the clock was ticking steadily, telling the time: a quarter till four. "well, this means the messengers are gone," I said quietly and started to get dressed, since I had a visit to make. -August 22, 1937

How language is webbed in the senses. Out of sand-blazed brilliance into quirky minds such as his, into touch, taste and fragrance. He thought he'd linger just a bit longer, let the bath take total hold, ease and alleviate, before he put on clothes and entered the complex boxes where people do their living. Nothing fits the body so well as water.

How I wish I was like the water, Flowing so freely with every drop Let my every emotion wonder, No need to start, nor even stop How I wish I was like the fire, Burning with every flame up Leaving a trace of hot desire As a Phoenix raises its' wings up How I wish I was like the earth, Raising each flower from the ground Seeing the beauty of death and birth And then returning to the ground How I wish I was like the wind, Hearing each whisper, sound and thought A lonesome and wandering little wind, Shattering all that has been sought Oh, how I wish I was where you are, Not separated by empty space, so far It seems like we're galaxies apart, But we find hope within our heart And how I wish I was all of the above, So I can come below and yet forget, The beauty of angels which come down like a dove And demons who love with no regret.

...Human beings, little bags of thinking water held up briefly by fragile accumulations of calcium...

I am like the water that runs over me, immune to permanence, recycling endlessly. I am water; I am life. The form may change, but the substance stays the same. Strike me down and I will rise again. Vincit qui patitur.

I believe that water is the closest thing to a god we have here on Earth. We are in awe of its power and majestic beauty. We are drawn to it as if it’s a magical, healing force. We gestate in water, are made of water, and need to drink water to live. We are living in water.

I am like water so to say, I will find my way!

I am swimming and it is just sunrise, the sky so gray as to be almost invisible. I rise to the surface to breathe and that’s when I see the dark shadow of a boat, gliding gently toward me in the water. Men ride in the boat, their faces grim and greedy and silent, and as I turn to watch them I feel a bite in my side, a piercing pain.

I am in love, and the river is beginning to ice over. I’d better go drown myself before I freeze to death.

I am not afraid of storms, for I am leaning how to sail my ship.

I cannot tarry longer. The sea that calls all things unto her calls me

I can’t help but ask, “Do you know where you are?” She turns to me with a foreboding glare. “Do you?

I cry as the laughter inside me drowns and descends into the water with the ghosts of our union.

If everyone could just live near the ocean, I think we'd all be happier. It's hard to be down about anything knee deep in the sand.

I don't waste food, water, money, time and talent.

I drop kindness pebbles in still water everyday, and I watch the effect they have on other people’s lives. My favorite kindness pebbles are compliments. Drop a compliment and watch the ripple affect that it has in your life.

If God gives you a seed, He expects you to plant it;if He plants it for you, He expects you to water it; if He waters it for you, He expects you to prune it; if He prunes and keeps it for you, He expects you to harvest it; if He harvest it for you, He expects you to store it; if He stores it for you,He expects you to keep it safe from getting rotten and if He keeps it from getting rotten for you, He expects you to account for the seed.Yes!Life is all about purposefully fulfilling a purpose. We are expected to be doing something at each moment in our life or we live without purposefully living.

I draw from the well what I like. The well has both mud and water.

If I look closely, I can almost see myself floating in my mother's palm. Yet, when I shut my eyes, I find a different image of my mother releasing me as we dance in the storm and twirl in separate circles that cause the water to ripple from us in widening rings which merge in one ebbing bracelet of waves where the borders of the quarry meet the water, far from the center where my mother and I continue to spin our bodies in the radiant sheen of lightning.

If the earth is a mother then rivers are her veins.

I fit my mouth to his and he tastes like water and smells like fresh air. I drag my hand from his neck to the small of his back and put it under his shirt. He kisses me harder.

If it was the warmth of the sun, and not its light, that produced this operation, it would follow, that, by warming the water near the fire about as much as it would have been in the sun, this very air would be produced; but this is far from being the case..

If ours souls are thirsty, we can draw freely, livng water from the well of salvation.

I freeze, my feet suddenly glued to the floor. It takes me a minute to gather the courage to turn around, but when I do, I immediately wish I hadn't. The boy is standing in the doorway at the end of the hall. Why is he here again? I barely allow myself time to ask the question before I move. Panicked, I turn and run back downstairs as fast as I can. "Hey! Wait!" he calls after me. I don't stop.

If snow melts down to water, does it still remember being snow?

If the private life of the sea could ever be transposed onto paper, it would talk not about rivers or rain or glaciers or of molecules of oxygen and hydrogen, but of the millions of encounters its waters have shared with creatures of another nature.

If truth prevails, the contributions of a courageous physician and a brilliant engineer to the conquest of waterborne disease will still be remembered in another hundred years.

If water could talk, there'd be some trace of all these years. It would tell of all it had taught him. How the lightest, most transparent things are heavy. How much effort it takes to contain what cannot be held; water runs through your fingers, so you find yourself empty-handed and still thirsty. But as water has no memory, no trace of his rage and loneliness will remain. He has lost those years forever.

If we come from the water, I conclude that we come from different kinds of it. I will meet a person and in his eyes see an ocean, deep and never ending; then I will meet another person and feel as though I have stepped into a shallow puddle on the street, there is nothing in it. Or maybe some of us come from the water, and some of us come from somewhere else; then it's all a matter of finding those who are the same as us.

If you pour more water into a river, it will not drown the fish.

If your name is "canoe" and you can't float on water, you are useless! If they call you "cutlass" but you can't chop anything into pieces, you are a waste! You have a unique role, you are a brand! Do what you were created to do!

Lonely. My heart grips as the word crosses my mind. So many different feelings come with the word, not just loneliness. The word went beyond its definition. Loneliness has a deeper meaning to those who truly know what it means to be alone.

If you’ve been prepping for a while, you’ve probably heard of survivalist’s "Rule of Three". You can survive: Three minutes without air. Three days without water. Three weeks without food. If disaster has hit and you’re still breathing, then your next concern has got to be water.

If you water your dreams with excellence, success will grow.

If you want to teach something to water, you must be first a river, a lake, an ocean; you must be rain and flood, ice and hail, rime and snow! You must be all of them! But not enough! You must be something more, only then you can teach something to water!

I grab the nearest lamppost when my knees threaten to give out, panting for breath as the words rip through me

I head in the direction of the Eiffel Tower when I exit the alley, relieved to be out of the dark.

Illness and death are not the only consequences of the lack of access to water; it also hinders education and economic development. Widespread illness makes countries less productive, more dependent on outside aid, and less able to lift themselves out of poverty. According to the United Nations, one of the main reasons girls do not go to school in sub-Saharan Africa is that they have to spend so much time fetching water from distant wells and carrying it home.

I lost my heart Under the bridge To that little girl – So much to me. And now I moan, And now I holler... She'll never know Just what I found. That blue eyed girl – She said "no more"; That blue eyed girl Became blue eyed whore. Down by the water, I took her hand. Just like my daughter, I'll see her again Oh, help me, Jesus. Come through this storm. I had to lose her To do her harm; I heard her holler, I heard her moan, My lovely daughter... I took her home. Little fish, big fish, swimming in the water, Come back here, man, give me my daughter. Little fish, big fish, swimming in the water. Come back here, man, give me my daughter.

I love the ocean because water from all sources mingle here, I love the ocean because it always returns all our valuables back, I love the ocean because it is the proof for abundance love & attachment.

I love the beach, everything except the fucking sand, the fucking sun, and the fucking water

Imagine trying to live in a world dominated by dihydrogen oxide, a compound that has no taste or smell and is so variable in its properties that it is generally benign but at other times swiftly lethal. Depending on its state, it can scald you or freeze you. In the presence of certain organic molecules it can form carbonic acids so nasty that they can strip the leaves from trees and eat the faces off statuary. In bulk, when agitated, it can strike with a fury that no human edifice could withstand. Even for those who have learned to live with it, it is an often murderous substance. We call it water.

I'm all dressed in my new clothes," Luis's proud but muffled voice comes through the pillow. "The nenas won't be able to resist this Latino stud." "Good for you," I mumble. "Mama said I should pour this pitcher of water on you if you don't get up." Was privacy too much to ask for? I take my pillow and chuck it across the room. It's a direct hit. The water splashes all over him. " Culero! " he screams at me. "These are the only new clothes I got.