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Desert Quotes

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Desert Quotes

“Below cascading breaths of storming sighs Shudder the petals of the desert skies; Gentle blossom, nestled flame atop thorns Savors languid sunbeams after gust storms, Breeze parted clouds afford warmth to the bud Softly caressing limbs windswept in mud, Draped spider tinsel on pin blades verdant Peacefully swing in the mellowed current, As raised arms pine for the sun’s strengthened gaze That’s nurtured generations long lost days, From arid desert sands, to seeds in soil From rainfall of winter, to summer’s toil, Stemmed firm to withstand changing tides time brings Cactus being ‘neath the winds flowing wings.”

“To have hope in these times is an act of courage. To experience catastrophic sadness, to recognize the brutality of life, and still maintain hope--That is everything. Because in order to flourish in the desert, to grow in the bleak, shallow dust and still believe in the possibility of beauty requires a special kind of persistence, It's not only patience and grit and strength, I realized. It's also faith.”

“There is silence, only the pitter-patter of rain hitting the skylight above my bed. Do I roll over and fall back asleep or get up? This is always the dilemma. Long ago I lived for such rainy days, when I would make myself a cup of cocoa, climb back into bed, snuggle under the comforter, and just listem to the storm outside. Perhaps I would benefit from doing the same today. Recently, when I sought council from a minister friends, she affirmed my conclusion that I was stuck. "You're in the dessert," she said, "and you're parched, but not dried out." As she talked, I pictured myself sitting on a stump in the middle of a vast wasteland, surrounded by nothing save miles of adobe-colored, hardened soil, with no escape route insight. "You've got not alternative but to simply sit still and listen. In time you'll hear the answers.”

“Oh, wind and rain may haunt me, Look to the north and pray. Send me, please, his kisses; Send them home today. I'm begging Jesus, 'Please, Send his love to me!' Left alone in desert, This house becomes a hell, This love becomes a tether, This room becomes a cell. Mummy, Daddy, please, Send him back to me! How long must I suffer? Dear God, I've served my time. This love becomes my torture; This love, my only crime. Oh, lover, please release me. My arms too weak to grip, My eyes too dry for weeping, My lips too dry to kiss. Calling Jesus, 'Please, Send his love to me!”

“He pictures, ludicrously, a high-speed chase through the desert: he and Rio and Whale speeding towards the Polaris camp, with Juno in his probably stolen Fauxcedes barreling after them. Whale barks out the window as they leap over hillocks and take a hard turn into the scrub, howling a devil-may-care, Fuck you!”

“True understanding lies beyond the desert”

“Why are the desert blooms that spring to life after a monsoon so magnificent? The answer is – their impermanence. The lush growth and blooming flowers do not last very long here in the desert, and this new growth only happens once a year. If this growth was never-ending, we would soon take it for granted. Likewise, our human lives. What makes them so special and unique? Our fleeting impermanence.”

“The painted aircraft took on sunlight and pulse. Sweeps of color, bands and spatters, airy washes, the force of saturated light—the whole thing oddly personal, a sense of one painter’s hand moved by impulse and afterthought as much as by epic design. I hadn’t expected to register such pleasure and sensation. The air was color-scrubbed, coppers and ochers burning off the metal skin of the aircraft to exchange with the framing desert.”

“He'd never seen the galaxy like this before, so close, so clear, parallel tracks of stars merging and separating, all of it wheeling as one unit across the horizon. It was a secret, he thought, hidden entirely from view when the sun was up, readily forgotten by day. But it was ever present, dominating reality, determining fate, perhaps, its true nature revealed only when the sun went down, only in the alchemy of night. He looked beyond the nebula, into the emptiness that cradled those blazing suns and galaxies all the way to the beginning of time, but as intently as he stared, he still could not fathom it. Never had he felt like such a single, tiny passenger on such a fragile, spinning, speck of a planet as he did right here, in the middle of a desert miles and miles from anyone else.”

“I picked up one and then a second and then a third of these stones, finding them at about the rate of one stone to the acre. And here is where my adventure became magical, for in a striking foreshortening of time that embraced thousands of years, I had become the witness of this miserly rain from the stars. the marvel of marvels was that there on the rounded back of the planet, between this magnetic sheet and those stars, a human consciousness was present in which as in a mirror that rain could be reflected.”

“I had to clear up my messy life. By letting go of the debris and filth, I have come to a deeper, more soulful beauty and clarity like an oasis in the desert. From that place of clarity, a vision of what I could have, what I could do, who I could be has emerged if I allow my heart to become a place of compassion, acceptance and forgiveness.”

“The balloon floated just above a ridge that ran along one side of the valley. They could see no one, no ani- mals or sign of any life, but there were trails in the hard sand bed that suggested people occasionally passed this way. Such trails could be misleading, for in the desert they could exist for an eternity, and one could never tell how old they might be.”

“One’s options in this world are as vast as the horizon, which is technically a circle and thus infinitely broad. Yet we must choose each step we take with utmost caution, for the footprints we leave behind are as important as the path we will follow. They’re part of the same journey — our story.”

“The dark object stepped out of the bushes’ shades to reveal a young rabbit-like creature. He was light brown, with long and wide large ears, skinny long legs, an agile body, large yellow eyes, and a fuzzy small tail. “You are a cute bunny!!” said Nader. “I’m not a bunny! I am he, the most fearless, the bravest, and most courageous, Shuja’ , the Arabian hare,”

“It was a lone tree burning on the desert. A heraldic tree that the passing storm had left afire. The solitary pilgrim drawn up before it had traveled far to be here and he knelt in the hot sand and held his numbed hands out while all about in that circle attended companies of lesser auxiliaries routed forth into the inordinate day, small owls that crouched silently and stood from foot to foot and tarantulas and solpugas and vinegarroons and the vicious mygale spiders and beaded lizards with mouths black as a chowdog's, deadly to man, and the little desert basilisks that jet blood from their eyes and the small sandvipers like seemly gods, silent and the same, in Jeda, in Babylon. A constellation of ignited eyes that edged the ring of light all bound in a precarious truce before this torch whose brightness had set back the stars in their sockets.”