#river

… the river sliding along its banks, darker now than the sky descending a last time to scatter its diamonds into these black waters that contain the day that passed, the night to come. — Excerpt from the poem “The Mercy ↗

— Philip Levine

#diamonds #rivers #stars #water #change

All through the night, like the tumult of a river when it races between the cliffs of a canyon, in my sleep I could hear the steady roar of the passing army. ↗

— Richard Harding Davis

#between #canyon #cliffs #could #hear

But there was nothing. No village or town as far as her eyes could strain. Nowhere for her saviours to come from and take her to; just fields and trees and the weeping arc of the river Greave all the way to the horizon. Just like in the books, Greaveburn was all there was; building and building until streets were foundations, roofs were floors, constantly climbing away from itself. now that Abrasia saw it, her dream of escape crumbled completely like an ancient map in her fingers. The horizon was the world's edge and there was nothing beyond it but mist and falling. Greaveburn stood alone on this little circle of earth, the river running around and into itself like a snake eating its tail. And Abrasia was doomed to watch the sun and stars trade places for all eternity. ↗

— Craig Hallam

#city #gothic #greave #greaveburn #river

Earth and sky, woods and fields, lakes and rivers, the mountain and the sea, are excellent schoolmasters, and teach some of us more than we can ever learn from books. ↗

— John Lubbock

#books #earth #ever #excellent #fields

Oh, Eeyore, you are wet!” said Piglet, feeling him. Eeyore shook himself, and asked somebody to explain to Piglet what happened when you had been inside a river for quite a long time. ↗

— A.A. Milne

#humor #piglet #river #wet #humor

Life is like the river, sometimes it sweeps you gently along and sometimes the rapids come out of nowhere. ↗

— Emma Smith

#life #rapid #river #simile #sweep

The river is everywhere. ↗

— Hermann Hesse

#life #omnipresence #river #life

I grew up in this town, my poetry was born between the hill and the river, it took its voice from the rain, and like the timber, it steeped itself in the forests. ↗

— Pablo Neruda

#born #forests #grew #hill #i

She'd barely covered up her long, tan legs in a pair of shorts that made me want to go to church on Sunday just to thank God for creating her. - Beau ↗

— Abbi Glines

#beau #river #church

God hides the fires of hell within paradise. ↗

— Paulo Coelho

#god #hell #irony #paradise #paulo-coelho