Best 3787 quotes in «water quotes» category

Blood is thicker than water, but they still use corn starch as a thickener on cooking shows

Blood is thicker than water, and so is diarrhea

Bridges take people across rivers. Leaders take people across ignorance. With a leader, the destination of a journey is sure.

But germs are the most common snowflake starters and lie at the heart of 85 percent of all flakes.2 So next time you gaze at a lovely snowstorm, inform your favorite germophobe or hypochondriac that living bacteria sit shivering in most of those untold billions of flakes. Then hand him or her a snow cone or organize a catch-a-snowflake-on-your-tongue party. Once the ice-forming process is started, more molecules join the party, and the crystal grows. It can ultimately become either a snowflake or a rough granule of ice called by the odd name graupel. A snowflake contains ten quintillion water molecules. That’s ten million trillion. Ten snowflakes—which can fit on your thumb tip—have the same number of molecules as there are grains of sand on the earth. Or stars in the visible universe. How many flakes, how many molecules fashioned the snowy landscape I was observing as I drove east? It numbed the brain.

But maybe you never really had someone, she thought now. Maybe, no matter how much you loved them, they could slip through your fingers like water, and there was nothing you could do about it. She understood why people talked about hearts "breaking"; she felt as if hers were made of cracked glass, and the shards were like tiny knives inside her chest when she breathed.

By erecting thirty thousand dams of significant size across the American West, they dewatered countless rivers, wiped out millions of acres of riparian habitat, shut off many thousands of river miles of salmon habitat, silted over spawning beds, poisoned return flows with agricultural chemicals, set the plague of livestock loose on the arid land--in a nutshell they made it close to impossible for numerous native species to survive.

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.

Call me Ishmael. Some years ago--never mind how long precisely--having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off--then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards the ocean with me. There now is your insular city of the Manhattoes, belted round by wharves as Indian isles by coral reefs--commerce surrounds it with her surf. Right and left, the streets take you waterward. Its extreme downtown is the battery, where that noble mole is washed by waves, and cooled by breezes, which a few hours previous were out of sight of land. Look at the crowds of water-gazers there. Circumambulate the city of a dreamy Sabbath afternoon. Go from Corlears Hook to Coenties Slip, and from thence, by Whitehall, northward. What do you see?--Posted like silent sentinels all around the town, stand thousands upon thousands of mortal men fixed in ocean reveries. Some leaning against the spiles; some seated upon the pier-heads; some looking over the bulwarks of ships from China; some high aloft in the rigging, as if striving to get a still better seaward peep. But these are all landsmen; of week days pent up in lath and plaster--tied to counters, nailed to benches, clinched to desks. How then is this? Are the green fields gone? What do they here? But look! here come more crowds, pacing straight for the water, and seemingly bound for a dive. Strange! Nothing will content them but the extremest limit of the land; loitering under the shady lee of yonder warehouses will not suffice. No. They must get just as nigh the water as they possibly can without falling in. And there they stand--miles of them--leagues. Inlanders all, they come from lanes and alleys, streets and avenues--north, east, south, and west. Yet here they all unite. Tell me, does the magnetic virtue of the needles of the compasses of all those ships attract them thither? Once more. Say you are in the country; in some high land of lakes. 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.

Camels can go many weeks without drinking anything at all. The notion that they cache water in their humps is pure myth—their humps are made of fat, and water is stored in their body tissues. While other mammals draw water from bloodstreams when faced with dehydration, leading to death by volume shock, camels tap the water in their tissues, keeping their blood volume stable. Though this reduces the camel’s bulk, they can lose up to a third of their body weight with no ill effects, which they can replace astonishingly quickly, as they are able to drink up to forty gallons in a single watering.” (pp.69-70)

Can a broken cisterns hold water?

Call me crazy, but there is something terribly wrong with this city.

Can a broken cistern hold water?

Causing any damage or harm to one party in order to help another party is not justice, and likewise, attacking all feminine conduct [in order to warn men away from individual women who are deceitful] is contrary to the truth, just as I will show you with a hypothetical case. Let us suppose they did this intending to draw fools away from foolishness. It would be as if I attacked fire -- a very good and necessary element nevertheless -- because some people burnt themselves, or water because someone drowned. The same can be said of all good things which can be used well or used badly. But one must not attack them if fools abuse them.

Catching fish is secondary to the immeasurable joys of the watery world.

Coffee—a barbaric drink. That poor, tortured bean. All that fermenting and husking and roasting and grinding. And what is tea? Tea is dried leaves rehydrated. Just add water, Mrs. Strickland. All living things need water.

Clean water is inestimably precious to waste!

Coming back to Karachi is like stepping into the sea again after months on land. How easily you float, how peaceful is the sense of being borne along, and how familiar the sound of the water lapping against your limbs.

Come boy, and pour for me a cup Of old Falernian. Fill it up With wine, strong, sparkling, bright, and clear; Our host decrees no water here. Let dullards drink the Nymph's pale brew, The sluggish thin their blood with dew. For such pale stuff we have no use; For us the purple grape's rich juice. Begone, ye chilling water sprite; Here burning Bacchus rules tonight!

Come on in. The water’s fine.

Did you ever think that maybe we’re like that?” she asks me. I smile into the dark. How many times have I thought of myself as the ocean? “You think we’re like water?” Gemma sits up. The salty wind coming off the water snaps her hair around her shoulders. With one hand in the middle of my chest, she tries to push me into the sand. I’m strong enough to hold her off, but I don’t want to. I willingly collapse back and she crawls over me. Holding a smile on her face, she slips her legs on either side of my hips and settles her weight on me. In a voice thin as smoke, she says, “Well, maybe that’s how we start. Maybe, in the beginning, we’re nothing but a theoretical vast and empty sea with this huge open sky above us.” Her hands press down on my stomach and her fingers pull at the bottom of my shirt. She leans forward until her breasts are rubbing against me and her mouth is almost touching the skin of my neck. “Then slowly,” she continues, “over time, the currents change and we build up these continents inside our bodies.” Now her fingers walk a path from my bellybutton to my sternum. “And eventually, we have canyons and deserts and trees and beaches and all sorts of places where we can go and live.” I suck in a breath as Gemma flattens her hand on the skin just above my heart and kisses me just below my ear. Then she turns her face, fitting the crown of her head beneath my jaw and says, “Most of the time we’re safe on the land, but sometimes we get sucked out to sea. What do you think happens then?” I think about everything we’ve shared today. I think about Gemma and me. And how it feels like the geography inside of my own body is changing, how it’s been changing from the moment I met her. Maybe even before that. And I think about the continents we’re building between us. The bridges of land moving from her fingers to mine and the valleys and mountains formed by her lips on my skin and her words in my head. I use both of my hands to cup her face and pull her to my mouth. I press my lips to hers, parting her mouth and drinking in her breath. “I think you’d have to start swimming.” A minute of silence ticks by. Over the low drone of the waves on the beach, she whispers, “And what if you can’t swim very well?” I think for a minute. “Then you fly.

Confidence is not a wilted plant that can be brought back to life with a bit of water. It is a highly flammable object. Doubt sets it aflame and destroys it irreparably.

Creosote made Mandy think of the thrill of rushing through a garden sprinkler as a kid, of playing washer toss in the backyard, of spending nights in the neighbors’ huge in-ground swimming pool when she was twelve, throwing glow sticks in the turquoise water during Canada Day block parties. She thought of Jud for a moment, how he’d loved doing all those things when he was a kid, but how, as he got older, it was all about popularity, sports, a life of illusion… and without warning, a totally different kind of memory filled her mind – the dull feeling of her head hitting the concrete walls near the wood shop at her old high school, the sounds of kids laughing, the sharp smell of sawdust, the buzzing of electric sanders nearby, the sound of Jud laughing while he beat her up… without realizing it, she’d started crying noiselessly.

Damu na maji vilitoka katika mbavu za Yesu Kristo kutokana na upungufu wa damu mwilini, hipovolimia, kulikotokana na kuchapwa bakora. Yesu alichapwa bakora arobaini kabla ya kupelekwa Golgotha. Matokeo ya hipovolimia katika mwili wa mtu ni moyo kwenda mbio kusukuma damu iliyopungua, kuzimia kutokana na msukumo wa damu kuwa chini, figo kushindwa kufanya kazi na kiu ya maji.

Damu, mto wa maisha unaotiririsha maji yake mwilini kwa kusukumwa na pampu za moyo na kuchujwa na fizi za mapafu, inaundwa na seli na maji yaitwayo utegili au maji ya damu, ambayo kazi yake ni kusafirisha oksijeni na virutubisho katika kila sehemu ya mwili, ndani yake kuna roho. Mungu alitoa kafara ya damu kwa ajili ya Adamu na Hawa katika Bustani ya Edeni. Ibrahimu alitoa kafara ya damu kwa ajili ya Israeli ijapokuwa mapenzi ya Mungu kwa Israeli yalikwisha baada ya kusulubiwa kwa Yesu Kristo. Wana wa Israeli walitoa kafara za damu kwa ajili ya wokovu wa watoto wao wa kwanza na watoto wa kwanza wa wanyama wao nchini Misri. Mungu alitoa kafara ya damu ya Yesu Kristo nchini Israeli kwa ajili ya wanadamu wote duniani. Damu ya mwanakondoo ina nguvu kuliko maombi, imetiwa wakfu na Mwenyezi Mungu na ina uhusiano mkubwa na ulimwengu wa roho. Ukifunikwa na damu ya mwanakondoo Shetani hatakuona. Shetani asipokuona, utafanikiwa.

Di dalam secangkir kopi yang nikmat, terdapat air putih yang sehat.

Do not dispute your thirst of water… …not with the flowing brook.

Did Bach ever eat pancakes at midnight?

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.

Do not turn me into restless waters if you cannot promise to be my stream.

Don't spend your time fetching water with a basket for it will never get filled up

Don't poison a river whose fish you might need tomorrow.

El Tulipan Holandés contemplaba la marea, que estaba subiendo. -Ensambla, unifica, envenena, corrige, revela. Mira cómo sube y baja, y se lleva todo consigo. + ¿Qué es? - Le pregunté. -Agua- me contestó el Holandés-. Bueno, y tiempo.

Don’t you dare come into my world and tell me what color the ocean is! It’s black. Black as midnight. Black and awful!

Do we not each dream of dreams? Do we not dance on the notes of lost memories? Then are we not each dreamers of tomorrow and yesterday, since dreams play when time is askew? Are we not all adrift in the constant sea of trial and when all is done, do we not all yearn for ships to carry us home?

Earth, water, fire, and wind are states of matter.

Earth, water, fire, and wind. Where there is energy there is life.

Emotions are like water, turning opaque when disturbed, yet transparent when still. As mindfulness calms our emotions, we can peer into their depths and see our overshadowing spiritual values reflected on the surface.

Empty plastic water bottles at near seal level would become pressurized by the time we reached the very high altitude summit of Mauna Kea and empty plastic water bottles at the summit would become crushed by the time we were near sea level.

Endangering human life for profit should be a universal crime.

Don't waste water even if you were at a running stream

Don't you see? You created this forest! It is your imagination that has given these trees the water to grow. It is your hopes that blazed a path through it. It is your dreams that give it the magic. All of this was created from within you!

Each time I came crashing down into the ocean porpoiselike, water hit my face like the slap of a jilted lover.

Empty your mind, be formless, shapeless, like water. Be water, my friend.

Entrepreneurs see the "no diving" sign and back-up to get a running start.

Es sind tausend Tropfen in einer Welt nur für uns gemacht Tausend Tropfen wenn der Himmel weint und man dennoch lacht

Even though this generation still believes in the miracle working power of God, they must no longer wait for God to bring water from the rocks, but rather construct dams, water systems, subdue the power of the ocean thereby give glory to God almighty

Feeling a little grumpy, Melvin decided he would no longer take a bath ever again. Therefore, with that in mind, he marched off into the woods.

Falling seemed to take forever as the water slowly rose to meet me. The dome of city hall continued to gleam in the distance, with its golden reflection extending to the river water. Strange that I hadn't seen that before.

Faltering thinking and indecisive conduct often result in losing ground and yielding to bleak caginess that generates the redoubtable Buridan’s syndrome. As Buridan’s ass is placed equally between a stack of hay and a pail of water, it dies of both hunger and thirst. ("The door was still ajar")

Every gesture and every look he gives me takes me by surprise and causes my heart to stutter.