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Sand Quotes

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Sand Quotes

“Don't only learn from the rich and successful men, also learn from the poor and those that failed woefully, for in their failures lies the secret of success as well.”

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Book:Great Reflections on Success
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“Don't cheat the foundation of a house because you want to save for the roofing for at the end, you will have only roofed rubbles.”

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Book:Great Reflections on Success
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“Don't sell the warmer for an air conditioner just because its summer, for in winter, you will have to do the reverse.”

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Book:Great Reflections on Success
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“That peculiar light just before sunset, before gloaming: it is then that Essa sees for the first time the famous dunes at Avanue, which roll like fat people in their sleep, and shift restlessly forever. “They cast long shadows, these sleeping giants, and Essa shivers. She has walked too far—after the trip north she was so grateful to be out of hospital—her hands and feet are cold, and she is dizzy with exhaustion. She sits down on the ragged grass at the edge of the bluff which overlooks the dunes, and tries not to hate them. “Her mother’s words, remembered in a dream, sound like water flowing in her thoughts. There is no water here. The grasses under her are dry and stiff, and they grow in sand so fine it grits through her clothing against the skin of her ass. The sea is too far away to see or smell. But at least she is alone. “Though she is shivering, it is still a hot day, and the sun has warmed the sand. The ground radiates heat into her body. She lies down flat on her belly, her head to one side so that she can still see the dunes, and puts her hands beneath her; gradually they warm. “Gradually her body comes back into balance and she starts to see an eerie beauty before her. The sun is fully down when she sits up, brushes the sand away as well as she can, and hugs her knees to her chest. She puts her chin on her knees and watches darkness descend over the low rolling landscape. “This is unlike any cliff on which she has rested yet. It is low and gives no perspective. The dunes come up almost to her feet. Yet the demarcation is quite abrupt: there is no grass growing anywhere after this brief crumbling drop-off, and she can see as the land-breeze begins to quicken that ahead of her the sand is moving. In fact, she realizes, she can hear it, a low sweeping sound which has mounted from inaudibility until it inexorably backs every other sound: sounds of grasses moving, insects scraping, birds calling from the invisible sea far beyond her viewpoint are all subsumed in one great sand-song. “It is a sound so relentlessly sad that Essa can hardly bear to listen, but so persistent that she cannot ignore it now that she has become aware of its susurration. She pulls her sweater—the one her mother made by her knitting—around her and waits. “When it is fully dark and the wind has died again, she rises and begins the long walk back to town in the dim light of stars and crescent moon.”

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Book:Black Wine
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“I write our names on the page. What of it, if the paper will be burned? I write our names in the sand. What of it, if the shore will be washed by waves? I write our names on trees that will be cut and benches that will be painted, but what of it? I will keep on writing our names because in this world of ephemera, You and I are the only constant.”

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Author:Kamand Kojouri
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“One by one, they guessed aloud about what Lotto had meant by this sculpture: nautilus, fiddlehead, galaxy. Thread running off its spindle. Forces of nature, perfect in beauty, perfectly ephemeral, they guessed. He was too shy to say time. He’d woken with a dry tongue and the urge to make the abstract concrete, to build his new understanding: that this was the way that time was, a spiral. He loved the uselessness of all the effort, the ephemerality of the work. The ocean encroached, it licked their feet. It pushed around the outside wall of the spiral, fingering its way in. When the water had scooped the sand from the lifeguard's chair, revealing white like bone beneath, something broke, and the fragments spun into the future. This day would bend back and shine itself into everything.”

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Book:Fates and Furies
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“It is not only the viability and variety of the seed that makes the harvest look plumpy. Sometimes, the soil must value the value of the seed. When the soil is not supportive, the seed's value becomes a waste!”

ValuesSupportPositionWasteFood For ThoughtValueIsraelmore AyivorValuableSeedsSettingVarietySandHarvestVaryPlaceFertileManureBumperSeed Of GreatnessBumper HarvestLoamViableInfertileSoilsViabilityGood EnvironmentLoamy SoilClay SoildSandy Soil
Author:Israelmore Ayivor
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“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.”

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Book:Empires of Sand by David Ball
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“We lived hand in hand with the sand, the wind and the sun. When the wind blew strong, the sand from the sea whirled up and violently battered the Mud Whale. The grains would get inside the keep and stick to people's skin. When the sun shone, the mud walls, the drifts of sand, and the grains on people's skin all sparkled.”

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Book:Children of the Whales, Vol. 1
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“La nuit, il n’y avait presque aucun signe du Grand Désert d’Harmat qui l’environnait, car tout était très noir. Aux limites de sa perception il ressentait une absence, dans l’espace qui happait les mouvements pour les renvoyer, indécis : l’Obscurité ! Elle était là, dans le Grand Désert d’Harmat, patiente et vigilante ; le jeune Sorcelier, par anticipation, frissonna. Seuls témoins tangibles, les plis de ses vêtements où le sable s’était infiltré, comme partout sur sa personne, dans sa bouche, son nez, au coin des yeux, sur ses oreilles, sa peau... Par ces particules granulaires, ces simples grains à la rondeur naturelle, infimes et innombrables, il retrouva son affirmation au Grand Désert et repoussa plus loin la menace de l’Obscur. Vaincu par une saine fatigue et noyé de sérénité, Célian alla se coucher sous l’œil bienveillant de son mentor.”

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Book:Les Épieurs d'Ombre
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“I still remember the winter sky that evening. Whenever I worked in my sea garden and I saw a sunset like that, I'd think back to Bantham Beach. It was as if the sun had been torn open. Everything was scarlet. The clouds were flames, so wild and vibrant that blue didn't look like a color anymore. The sea and land served as a mirror. The ribbed sand was on fire. So were the stones and maroon rock pools. The pink crests of the waves. The burning hump of Burgh Island.”

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Book:The Love Song of Miss Queenie Hennessy
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“There was a feeling of freshness and vigour in the very streets; and when I got free of the town, when my foot was on the sands and my face towards the broad, bright bay, no language can describe the effect of the deep, clear azure of the sky and ocean, the bright morning sunshine on the semicircular barrier of craggy cliffs surmounted by green swelling hills, and on the smooth, wide sands, and the low rocks out at sea—looking, with their clothing of weeds and moss, like little grass–grown islands—and above all, on the brilliant, sparkling waves. And then, the unspeakable purity—and freshness of the air! There was just enough heat to enhance the value of the breeze, and just enough wind to keep the whole sea in motion, to make the waves come bounding to the shore, foaming and sparkling, as if wild with glee. Nothing else was stirring—no living creature was visible besides myself. My footsteps were the first to press the firm, unbroken sands;—nothing before had trampled them since last night’s flowing tide had obliterated the deepest marks of yesterday, and left them fair and even, except where the subsiding water had left behind it the traces of dimpled pools and little running streams.”

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Book:Agnes Grey
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“To build refuges of my own making is to construct fortresses of sand at ocean’s edge, where the relentless tides of time will leave my most magnificently constructed walls as perfectly flat sand. And now that I am subject to the very tides that destroyed these walls of mine, I am left with the reality that my single and sole refuge can only be the God who created both tides and sand.”

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Book:Flecks of Gold on a Path of Stone: Simple Truths for Profound Living
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