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River Quotes

Browse 335 quotes about River.

River Quotes

“In these days of living in a dry land that wants fire, we need to find words, or burn. 'I dreamt of rain last night.' Mai stood near my skin, on the bank of the American River, her flesh wet with simplicity. The scent of star thistle mixed with river mud. ' I met people in my dreams who had never known the inside of a lotus flower. Ever.' In the center of each word another word unfolded. Our ankles cold from the river. Her hands trembled. Bewildered fingers. Be careful around those who claim to know the history of fire and yet remain unafraid of rain.”

HistoryFireDreamsFlowerRainWordsCaliforniaRiverWordSacramento
Book:between appear and disappear
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“The Thames here had a vastly different character to the wide, muddy tyrant that seethed through London. It was graceful and deft and remarkably light of heart. It skipped over stones and skimmed its banks, water so clear that one could see the reeds swaying deep down on her narrow bed. The river here was a she, he'd decided. For all its sunlit transparency, there were certain spots in which it was suddenly unfathomable.”

WaterNatureLondonWomanRiverThames
Book:The Clockmaker's Daughter
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“Numerous gifted objects; black granite Etchings, carved statues, broken goddesses, Inscriptions, pottery, jewelry, rough-hewn Garnets, flowers, consecrated herbs, skulls, Gold ornaments, weapons, prized artifacts; Sacrifices, ancestors’ ageless prayers Left with olden Father Thames. For them, The sinuous streams were alive, full worlds Of votive offerings inside murky depths, Lifeblood pleas, observances thereafter Troubles now vanished, solemn promises, Treasures carefully bestowed upon Spirits, watchful deities; faithfully Invoking his ancient name Tamesas.”

LondonRiverPaganThamesOfferingsTamesaTamesasTamesis
Book:The Bones of the Poor
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“From seasonal splashes near Trewsbury European eels migrate upstream; Myriad carp, redfin perch, brook lamprey, Dragonflies, mosquitoes, wee midges, Pale cormorant, herring gulls, wagtails, Swans glide round woodland tapestry, Braided channel islands rest alone, Arched medieval stone slab bridges, Tree lines fête ash, alder, chestnut, beech. Floodplains, tangled sedge reedbeds, Owls speed above tree-covered islets, Teaming alluvium water-meadows Growing lavender, iris, marigold.”

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Book:The Bones of the Poor
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“You are funny like a kid and awesome like a princess Unseen like an angel, like the morning sunshine… Kindness like a river and highness like a mountain, In the middle of the Rheine, the cute face and sweet lips … (La la la la, La la , mmmm , mm …) Keep the lovely smile, in your juicy icy eyes Open the heaven for my eyes, forever angel voice Never angry never harsh, never mad never marsh Dear or darling, either diamond or dime, Overall the dream of the world”

FunnyHeavenVoiceKindnessAngelAngryMadSunshinePrincessEyesHarshMountainsRiverAwesomeKid
Book:A moment with God ; Poetry
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“I thought how lovely and how strange a river is. A river is a river, always there, and yet the water flowing through it is never the same water and is never still. It’s always changing and is always on the move. And over time the river itself changes too. It widens and deepens as it rubs and scours, gnaws and kneads, eats and bores its way through the land. Even the greatest rivers- the Nile and the Ganges, the Yangtze and he Mississippi, the Amazon and the great grey-green greasy Limpopo all set about with fever trees-must have been no more than trickles and flickering streams before they grew into mighty rivers. Are people like that? I wondered. Am I like that? Always me, like the river itself, always flowing but always different, like the water flowing in the river, sometimes walking steadily along andante, sometimes surging over rapids furioso, sometimes meandering wit hardly any visible movement tranquilo, lento, ppp pianissimo, sometimes gurgling giacoso with pleasure, sometimes sparkling brillante in the sun, sometimes lacrimoso, sometimes appassionato, sometimes misterioso, sometimes pesante, sometimes legato, sometimes staccato, sometimes sospirando, sometimes vivace, and always, I hope, amoroso. Do I change like a river, widening and deepening, eddying back on myself sometimes, bursting my banks sometimes when there’s too much water, too much life in me, and sometimes dried up from lack of rain? Will the I that is me grow and widen and deepen? Or will I stagnate and become an arid riverbed? Will I allow people to dam me up and confine me to wall so that I flow only where they want? Will I allow them to turn me into a canal to use for they own purposes? Or will I make sure I flow freely, coursing my way through the land and ploughing a valley of my own?”

InspirationalSelfGrowthRiver
Book:This Is All: The Pillow Book of Cordelia Kenn
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“¡Río Grande de Loíza!...Mi manantial, mi río, desde que alzóme al mundo el pétalo materno; contigo se bajaron desde las rudas cuestas, a buscar nuevos surcos, mis pálidos anhelos; y mi niñez fue toda un poema en el río, y un río en el poema de mis primeros sueños. Río Grande de Loíza!...My wellspring, my river since the maternal petal lifted me to the world; my pale desires came down in you from the craggy hills to find new furrows; and my childhood was all a poem in the river, and a river in the poem of my first dreams.”

PoetryNatureDreamsChildhoodRiverPuerto RicoPuerto RicanPuerto Rican PoetryPuerto Rican Women
Author:Julia de Burgos
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“When the river of emotions bursts its banks and expectations go over the edges of reality, the brain creates hallucinations. Ringxiety-stricken people feel illusive vibrating alerts and hear phantom phone rings, since absence of ringing generates scaring emptiness and destroys their self-esteem. ("Kein Schwein ruft mich an" )”

PeopleRealityBrainSelf EsteemEmotionsExpectationsAbsenceEmptinessCreateFeelRiverDestroyHallucinationsHearVibratePhoneBanksAlertEdgeRingPhantomBurstGenerateRingingSchweinStrickenIllusiveScaringPhantoms In The BrainRingxiety
Author:Erik Pevernagie
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“For the gaming fishermen there was the Whatoosie River and its native cocka-snoek, the main game fish of the resident Skegg’s Valley Dynamite Fishing Club. Cocka-snoek were wily and tough and rather too bright for mere fish. You wouldn’t catch much with a rod around here. Many inexperienced visitors would find the bait stolen from their hooks, which punctuated the discovery that their lines had somehow got snagged and tangled irretrievably around some underwater obstruction – sometimes tied together with neat little bows. Often, several direct hits with hand grenades were needed to stun the creatures long enough just to catch them, gut them and fry them, but these former military types had become experts at it. For a modest fee, tours could be arranged via the booking office, which included an overnight stay on the banks of the river where one could drop off to a great night’s sleep after a satisfying meal of cocka-snoek done on an open fire, and the sound the bits of shrapnel made rattling in your stomach.”

LongDoneEnoughTogetherSoundLinesSleepFireStomachYouBowsTiedModestRiverTheFishFindTangledItBaitAndOfUnderwaterObstructionYourAroundNightsSomeTheirOftenHereWouldWhereAnWhichWereClubRatherHadTypesSeveralFeeOvernightResidentFryGrenadesHooksWhatoosieBooking OfficeCocka SnoekSkegg SThem AndWouldnt
Book:Loderunner
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“And there I was at night, chasing after the full moon behind the clouds like a mad man in search of the reflection of the light of love in another person, without daring to light up the spark of light that I had left within myself. It was nowhere to be seen, but I felt it was out there somewhere. I've surely seen it a couple of days ago up in the sky and my eyes couldn't have lied to me, it was so beautiful, or so it appeared to be. I guess I have to stop stalking what can't be seen for awhile and let the light of the full moon find its way through my messed up soul. Maybe it's time to go to sleep and trust that another sunrise will renew what the full moon couldn't clear away tonight. During all that time, I might've not found the light of the moon, but I rested deeply with the sound of the raindrops, while gazing at the quiet river flowing slowly. What a crucial moment to be alive!”

LoveSoulLightBeautifulNightSleepClearAliveSkyTrustMoonReflectionFlowLiesMadCloudsManEyesSunriseChasingPersonMomentLiedRestRiverStalkingSearchMyselfSparkChaseFullSomewhereRenewSlowlyDeeplyStalkCrucial Situations
Author:Virgil Kalyana Mittata Iordache
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“We cannot separate the fragrance from the flower. Neither can we separate a river from the rain that trickles and flows downhill, ultimately gathering into a river. Similarly, we can never separate the creation from the creator. Gazing deeply at every facet of creation, be it a mountain, an ocean, a flower, or a meadow, in every single face, it is the light of God that shines through. In every face of this universe, it is his face that emerges. This is when our realization blossoms. But when do we realize this? That the rain becomes a river, the wave becomes an ocean, the fragrance becomes a flower. When we are mindful, we sense the peak every moment. It's then that we blossom.”

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Author:Jayita Bhattacharjee
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“Grief comes in tides, dark shadows in deep, A sudden, silent gulf where timeless treasures sleep, A hole, it tears, a hole that will never fill, And begs us to keep living, when joy has come to an end. The dark, dark path, deep in the woods, With heavy hearts, we walk, burnt in grief. In the achiest of ache, the quiet, pushing pain, for memories rise, like sunlight after rain. The times we once shared, a thread of radiant gold, Stretched, not torn, a story yet to be told, The grief-wet eyes, in the dark, dark days, Now they see the dawn-filled sky, for deep in the soul, a flower has opened, in the stream of tears, watering the soil. For those truly loved, no death can touch, those once held, no death can steal, They live in the deep, in the flowering of memories.”

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Author:Jayita Bhattacharjee
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