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Lost And Found Quotes

Browse 57 quotes about Lost And Found.

Lost And Found Quotes

“Music for him was a way to show his love and desire for me. It was beautiful and raw. But it was his escape route as well. It took him inward, away from restraints and walls. He could feel the music wash over him, the lyrics taking his thoughts wherever they needed to be in those moments. He lived for dreams and fantasies. He was full of humor and charm, yet if it weren't for his love of music his life was overwhelmingly dull.”

LoveHeartbreakShadowsLost And Found
Book:Lost and Found: Shadows of Love
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“I am thankful to the Lord for my redemption. I was once lost, now I am saved by grace.”

ChristianitySpiritual QuotesAdversitySavedRedemptionFaith QuotesLailah Gifty Akita AffirmationsSinnerThank YouThankfulAdversity QuotesGratitude QuotesSpiritual InsightsSaved SoulsDivine GraceDivine InterventionSaved By GraceSaved From SinThank You GodSuffering QuoteSuffering Of HumanityLost And FoundLost GenerationSuffering LifeThank You NotesAdversity And AttitudeLearning From ExperiencesDivine FavourLearning From AdversityHope Lailah Gifty AkitaLearning From Our StrugglesLost In TimeRedemptive SufferingThanksfulness
Book:Think Great: Be Great!
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“Lost count of all the countless things I've lost throughout the years Lost friends and time and interest in The things I should hold dear Lost sleep just pondering the things That have been lost to me Especially the loss of love I've need desperately I find it doesn't help at all To sit around and brood I find nobody gives a damn About your petty moods At least that's what I thought Until the day you came along Now, I found my restless soul Has finally found a home Lost and found, I'm safe sound No more drifting aimlessly, I've settled down I've finally came around No more to roam, those days are gone I was alone, now I know I don't have to be Since your amazing love has found me”

ThinkingFoundLostThoughtsSafetyLost LoveLyricsLost FriendshipLost And FoundLove Saves
Book:Run, Rose, Run
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“Have you ever wondered What happens to all the poems people write? The poems they never let anyone else read? Perhaps they are Too private and personal Perhaps they are just not good enough. Perhaps the prospect of such a heartfelt expression being seen as clumsy shallow silly pretentious saccharine unoriginal sentimental trite boring overwrought obscure stupid pointless or simply embarrassing is enough to give any aspiring poet good reason to hide their work from public view. forever. Naturally many poems are IMMEDIATELY DESTROYED. Burnt shredded flushed away Occasionally they are folded Into little squares And wedged under the corner of An unstable piece of furniture (So actually quite useful) Others are hidden behind a loose brick or drainpipe or sealed into the back of an old alarm clock or put between the pages of AN OBSCURE BOOK that is unlikely to ever be opened. someone might find them one day, BUT PROBABLY NOT The truth is that unread poetry Will almost always be just that. DOOMED to join a vast invisible river of waste that flows out of suburbia. well Almost always. On rare occasions, Some especially insistent pieces of writing will escape into a backyard or a laneway be blown along a roadside embankment and finally come to rest in a shopping center parking lot as so many things do It is here that something quite Remarkable takes place two or more pieces of poetry drift toward each other through a strange force of attraction unknown to science and ever so slowly cling together to form a tiny, shapeless ball. Left undisturbed, this ball gradually becomes larger and rounder as other free verses confessions secrets stray musings wishes and unsent love letters attach themselves one by one. Such a ball creeps through the streets Like a tumbleweed for months even years If it comes out only at night it has a good Chance of surviving traffic and children and through a slow rolling motion AVOIDS SNAILS (its number one predator) At a certain size, it instinctively shelters from bad weather, unnoticed but otherwise roams the streets searching for scraps of forgotten thought and feeling. Given time and luck the poetry ball becomes large HUGE ENORMOUS: A vast accumulation of papery bits That ultimately takes to the air, levitating by The sheer force of so much unspoken emotion. It floats gently above suburban rooftops when everybody is asleep inspiring lonely dogs to bark in the middle of the night. Sadly a big ball of paper no matter how large and buoyant, is still a fragile thing. Sooner or LATER it will be surprised by a sudden gust of wind Beaten by driving rain and REDUCED in a matter of minutes to a billion soggy shreds. One morning everyone will wake up to find a pulpy mess covering front lawns clogging up gutters and plastering car windscreens. Traffic will be delayed children delighted adults baffled unable to figure out where it all came from Stranger still Will be the Discovery that Every lump of Wet paper Contains various faded words pressed into accidental verse. Barely visible but undeniably present To each reader they will whisper something different something joyful something sad truthful absurd hilarious profound and perfect No one will be able to explain the Strange feeling of weightlessness or the private smile that remains Long after the street sweepers have come and gone.”

PoetryWordsLost And FoundUplifiting
Book:Tales from Outer Suburbia
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“On the edge of a tropical ocean, in a thousand reflections of the silver light of an invisible moon, among undulations of restless waters, ceaselessly changing... Among silent breakers, the tremors of the shining surface, in the swift flux and reflux martyrizing the patches of light, in the rendings of luminous loops and arcs, and lines, in the occultations and reappearances of dancing bursts of light being decomposed, recomposed, contracted, spread out, only to be re-distributed once more before me, with me, within me, drowned, and unendurably buffeted, my calm violated a thousand times by the tongues of infinity, oscillating, sinusoidally overrun by the multitude of liquid lines. enormous with a thousand folds, I was and I was not, I was caught, I was lost, I was in a state of complete ubiquity. The thousands upon thousands of rustlings were my own thousand shatterings.”

LightLost And FoundAt SeaLiquid Zones
Book:Miserable Miracle
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“Lost time is never found again.”

MotivationalTimeFoundLostPositivePoliticianManagementCaringProductivityManageMy TimeProductiveTime ManagementWasting TimeProcrastinationDeep ThoughtPoor RichardTime PassingShort TimeBest TimesProject ManagementTime PassesLife TimeTime And MoneySeize The DayDon't Waste Your TimeTime Of My LifeTime FliesSeizingTime Of DayManaging TimeLife And TimeLost TimePrecious TimeTime LeftSeize The OpportunityLife Is PreciousLost And FoundValue Of TimeProcrastinatorTime Is MoneyTime ProverbsStop TimeLack Of TimeLosing TimeHow Precious Life IsTime Is PreciousDays Like ThisTiming And LifeManagement MotivationLost YearsPoor ManagementShortage Of Time
Book:Essays and Letters
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“The area between the nose and the chin, the subject of kissing and the vehicle for speech, is perhaps even more known and set upon than the eyes. The mouth is also riddled with a complex interweaving of folds, curves, flats and lost-and-found edges. These nuances are needed by a perceptive person who might try to understand human nature.”

TryingHumansPersonsMightEyeFoundLostKnownSubjectsHuman NatureNeededKissingSpeechMouthsAreasComplexesEdgesNosesFlatsVehicleCurvesFoldsChinsNuancePortraitureLost And Found
Author:Robert Genn
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“I fished upstream coming ever closer and closer to the narrow staircase of the canyon. Then I went up into it as if I were entering a department store. I caught three trout in the lost and found department.”

IfsThreeFoundLostSeaRiversCaughtFishesStoresBoatDepartmentLakesFishingEnteringCanyonsTroutStaircasesDepartment StoresLost And Found
Book:Richard Brautigan's Trout Fishing in America ; The Pill Versus the Springhill Mine Disaster ; And, In Watermelon Sugar
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“From the tower battlements, Dustfinger looked down on a lake as black as night, where the reflection of the castle swam in a sea of stars. The wind passing over his unscarred face was cold from the snow of the surrounding mountains, and Dustfinger relished life as if he were tasting it for the first time. The longing it brought, and the desire. All the bitterness, all the sweetness, even if it was only for a while, never for more than a while, everything gained and lost, lost and found again.”

IfsFirstsFacesDesireNightFoundLostStarsBlackSeaWindColdMountainReflectionFirst TimeLongingPassingSnowPassingsLakesBitternessTowersSweetnessCastlesTastingLost And FoundDustfinger
Book:Inkdeath
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