Pours Quotes

From the Sun I learned this: when he goes down, overrich; he pours gold into the sea out of inexhaustible riches, so that even the poorest fisherman still rows with golden oars. For this I once saw and I did not tire of my tears as I watched it. ~ Friedrich Nietzsche

Be careful what you say. It comes true. It comes true. I had to leave home in order to see the world logically, logic the new way of seeing. I learned to think that mysteries are for explanation. I enjoy the simplicity. Concrete pours out of my mouth to cover the forests with freeways and sidewalks. Give me plastics, periodical tables, TV dinners with vegetables no more complex than peas mixed with diced carrots. Shine floodlights into dark corners: no ghosts. ~ Maxine Hong Kingston

Say you could view a time lapse film of our planet: what would you see?

Transparent images moving through light, "an infinite storm of beauty."
The beginning is swaddled in mists, blasted by random blinding flashes. Lava pours and cools; seas boil and flood. Clouds materialize and shift; now you can see the earth's face through only random patches of clarity. The land shudders and splits, like pack ice rent by widening lead. Mountains burst up, jutting, and dull and soften before your eyes, clothed in forests like felt. The ice rolls up, grinding green land under water forever; the ice rolls back. Forests erupt and disappear like fairy rings. The ice rolls up- mountains are mowed into lakes, land rises wet from the sea like a surfacing whale- the ice rolls back.

A blue-green streaks the highest ridges, a yellow-green spreads from the south like a wave up a strand. A red dye seems to leak from the north down the ridges and into the valleys, seeping south; a white follows the red, then yellow-green washes north, then red spreads again, then white, over and over, making patterns of color too intricate to follow. Slow the film. You see dust storms, locusts, floods, in dizzying flash-frames.

Zero in on a well-watered shore and see smoke from fires drifting. Stone cities rise, spread, and crumble, like paths of alpine blossoms that flourish for a day an inch above the permafrost, that iced earth no root can suck, and wither in a hour. New cit ~ Annie Dillard

A puritan is a person who pours righteous indignation into the wrong things. ~ Gilbert K. Chesterton

The heavens are telling the glory of God; and the firmament proclaims his handiwork. Day to day pours forth speech, and night to night declares knowledge. There is no speech, nor are there words; their voice is not heard; yet their voice goes out through all the earth, and their words to the end of the world. In them he has set a tent for the sun, which comes forth like a bridegroom leaving his chamber, and like a strong man runs its course with joy. Its rising is from the end of the heavens, and its circuit to the end of them; and there is nothing hid from its heat. (Ps 19:1-6) ~ J. Budziszewski

A man may have lived all of his life in the gray, and the land and trees of him dark and somber. The events, the important ones, may have trooped by faceless and pale. And then-the glory-so that a cricket song sweetens his ears, the smell of the earth rises chanting to his nose, and dappling light under a tree blesses his eyes. Then a man pours outward, a torrent of him, and yet he is not diminished. ~ John Steinbeck

Sometimes a kind of glory lights up the mind of a man. It happens to nearly everyone. You can feel it growing or preparing like a fuse burning toward dynamite. It is a feeling in the stomach, a delight of the nerves, of the forearms. The skin tastes the air, and every deep-drawn breath is sweet. Its beginning has the pleasure of a great stretching yawn; it flashes in the brain and the whole world glows outside your eyes. A man may have lived all of his life in the gray, and the land and trees of him dark and somber. The events, even the important ones, may have trooped by faceless and pale. And then -the glory- so that a cricket song sweetens his ears, the smell of the earth rises chanting to his nose, and dappling light under a tree blesses his eyes. Then a man pours outward, a torrent of him, and yet he is not diminished. And I guess a man's importance in the world can be measured by the quality and number of his glories. It is a lonely thing but it relates us to the world. It is the mother of all creativeness, and it sets each man separate from all other men. ~ John Steinbeck

As we pour out our bitterness, God pours in his peace. ~ F.B. Meyer

The first coffee of the morning is never, ever, ready quickly enough. You die before it's ready and then your ghost pours the resurrection potion out of the moka pot. ~ Helen Oyeyemi

Dumbledore:
I use the Pensieve. One simply siphons the excess thoughts from one's mind, pours them into the basin, and examines them at one's leisure. It becomes easier to spot patterns and links, you understand, when they are in this form.
Harry:
You mean ... that stuff's your thoughts?
Dumbledore:
Certainly. ~ J.K. Rowling

Do you know what sorrow the rain can inspire?

.

Do you know how gutters weep when it pours down?

.

Do you know how lost a solitary person feels in the rain? ~ Badr Shakir Sayyab

And as soon as you have renounced that aim of "surviving at any price" and gone where the calm and simple people go - then imprisonment begins to transform your former character in an astonishing way. To transform it in a direction most unexpected to you.
And it would seem that in this situation feelings of malice, the disturbance of being oppressed, aimless hate, irritability, and nervousness ought to multiply. But you yourself do not notice how, with the impalpable flow of time, slavery nurtures in you the shoots of contradictory feelings.
Once upon a time you were sharply intolerant. You were constantly in a rush. And you were constantly short of time. And now you have time with interest. You are surfeited with it, with its months and its years, behind you and ahead of you - and a beneficial calming fluid pours through your blood vessels - patience.
You are acending...
Formerly you never forgave anyone. You judged people without mercy. And you praised people with equal lack of moderation. And now an understanding mildness has become the basis of your uncategorical judgements. You have come to realize your own weakness - and you can therefore understand the weakness of others. And be astonished at another's strength. And wish to possess it yourself.
The stones rustle beneath our feet. We are ascending...
With the year, armor-plated restraint covers your heart and all your skin. You do not hasten to question and you do not hasten to answer. ~ Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn

Miserable is the woman who arises from the inattentiveness and restlessness of youth and finds herself in the home of a man showering her with his glittering gold and precious gifts and according her all the honours and grace of lavish entertainment but unable to satisfy her soul with the heavenly wine which God pours from the eyes of a man into the heart of a woman. ~ Kahlil Gibran

When the mind runs free , write a song . music pours happiness into the soul and a happy soul creates eternal success ~ Kelsey Valentine

The seasons split at the seams: spring, summer, fall and winter. I've always pictured them as giant sacks filled with air and color and smell. When it's time for one season to be over, the next seasons splits open and pours over the world, drowning its tired and waning predecessor with its strength. ~ Tarryn Fisher

What man seeks, to the point of anguish, in his gods, in his art, in his science, is meaning. He cannot bear the void. He pours meaning on events like salt on his food. ~ Francois Jacob

ached, until his head throbbed, all of that preparation comes down to today. It's finally here! He quickly brushes his teeth and puts on his Halloween costume. He picks up the trombone case and his school backpack and heads downstairs quietly, not wanting to wake his mother. He rips open the cellophane and drops two Pop-Tarts into the toaster and pours himself a glass of milk. He drinks the milk but doesn't touch the pastries. ~ James Patterson

The defining moment when we finally admit, "I can't do this alone. Its too much for me. Take it."
That's the moment our heart cracks open, our will pours out and Christ stands ready with his arms stretched wide and his smile even wider.
That's the moment a miracle is born. ~ Toni Sorenson

I really just want to be warm yellow light that pours over everyone I love. ~ Conor Oberst

The upperclassman hands over a third pail. "Throw it," commands Bastian. The night steams, the stars burn, the prisoner sways, the boys watch, the commandant tilts his head. Frederick pours the water onto the ground. "I will not. ~ Anthony Doerr

I got a smile that'll make the mirror crack,
And I seem to stay under clouds that's pitch black.
So when it rains, it pours, and when it pours, I'm soaked.
I contracted lung cancer from third hand smoke,
And I'm like the frog that's dying to be a prince,
The boy who cried wolf and no one was convinced.
The man who hit lotto and lost his ticket,
In a rainstorm ... and struck by lightning trying to get it. ~ GZA

God pours His oil into clean vessels! ~ Jentezen Franklin

The miracle of the light pours over the green and brown expanse of saw grass and of water, shining and slow-moving below, the grass and water that is the meaning and the central fact of the Everglades of Florida. It is a river of grass. ~ Marjory Stoneman Douglas

When you open up to the ultimate, immediately it pours into you. You are no longer an ordinary human being - you have transcended. Your insight has become the insight of the whole existence. Now you are no longer separate - you have found your roots. ~ Rajneesh

My brunette with the golden eyes, your ivory body, your amber
Has left bright reflections in the room
Above the garden.
The clear midnight sky, under my closed lids,
Still shines ... I am drunk from so many roses
Redder than wine.
Leaving their garden, the roses have followed me ...
I drink their brief breath, I breathe their life.
All of them are here.
It's a miracle ... The stars have risen,
Hastily, across the wide windows
Where the melted gold pours.
Now, among the roses and the stars,
You, here in my room, loosening your robe,
And your nakedness glistens
Your unspeakable gaze rests on my eyes ...
Without stars and without flowers, I dream the impossible
In the cold night. ~ Renee Vivien

Offering love is tricky. You can't give what you don't have. An empty glass pours no water unless you fill it. So love yourself first. ~ Jason Versey

Human generosity is possible only because at the center of the solar system a magnificent stellar generosity pours forth free energy day and night without stop and without complaint and without the slightest hesitation. ~ Megan McKenna

I sha'n't let my prisoners go as easily as all that!' she said. 'Make my hair grow as thick and as black as yours, or else your husbands shall never see daylight again.' 'That is quite simple,' replied the elder sister; 'only you must do as we did - and perhaps you won't like the treatment.' 'If you can bear it, of course I can,' answered the witch. And so the girls told her they had first smeared their heads with pitch and then laid hot stones upon them. 'It is very painful,' said they, 'but there is no other way that we know of. And in order to make sure that all will go right, one of us will hold you down while the other pours on the pitch.' And so they did; and the elder sister let down her hair till it hung over the witch's eyes, so that she might believe it was her own hair growing. Then the other brought a huge stone, and, in short, there was an end of the witch. The sisters were savages who had never seen a missionary. ~ Andrew Lang

This We Have Now

This we have no
is not imagination.

This is not
grief or joy.

Not a judging state,
or an elation,
or sadness.

Those come
and go.

This is the presence
that doesn't.

It's dawn, Husam,
here in the splendor of coral,
inside the Friend, the simple truth
of what Hallaj said.

What else could human beings want?

When grapes turn to wine
they're wanting
this.

When the nightsky pours by,
it's really a crowd of beggars,
and they all want some of this!

This
that we are now
created the body, cell by cell,
like bees building a honeycomb.

The human body and the universe
grew from this, not this
from the universe and the human body. ~ Jalaluddin Rumi

One can never call me a quitter
I take something right and see it
through till it's wrong
Auctioning myself off to the lowest bidder
Going once, going twice
Gone
Sold to the man for the price of disdain
Some are sold for a song
I don't rate a refrain
I guess it was all going just a little too well
If I wasn't careful I'd be happy pretty soon
Heaven's no place for one who thrives on hell,
One who prefers the bit to the silver spoon.
Then just when I'd almost resigned myself to winning
When it seemed my bright future would never dim
When my luck looked as though it was only beginning
I met him.
Sullen and scornful; a real Marlboro man
The type who pours out the beer and eats the can
A tall guy with a cultivated leer
One you can count on to diaprove or disappear
I knew right away that he was a find
Given this, he was the kindest man I'd ever met
Back came my sense of worthlessness
And my long lost pangs of regret
I was my old self again, lost and confused
Reunited with that old feeling
Of being misunderstood and misused.

Sold to the man for the price of disdain
All of this would be interesting
If it weren't so mundane ~ Carrie Fisher

When God is about to give His people the expected good, He pours out a Spirit of prayer, and it is a good sign that He is coming towards them in mercy. ~ Matthew Henry

Japanese things - laquers, netsuke, prints - conjure a picture of a place where sensations are always new, where art pours out of daily life, where everything exists in a dream of endless beautiful flow. ~ Edmund De Waal

When it rains, the land rejoices. When it pours, the ocean rejoices. ~ Matshona Dhliwayo

The dads in those tv shows spend a great deal of time talking to their kids in their living rooms. Steven Keaton - the dad of my dreams - seems to do nothing but sit on his couch or at his kitchen table talking to his children about their myriad teenage calamities. He listens and listens to his kids and he pours glasses of orange juice and hands them to his kids as he listens some more. He tells his kids he loves them by telling his kids he loves them. Dad tells me he loves me when he forms a pistol out of this forefinger and thumb and points it at me as he farts. He tells us he loves us by showing us the tattoo we never knew he had on the inside of his bottom lip: Fuck you. ~ Trent Dalton

Lastly, there is bankruptcy, as the United States pours its economic resources into ever more grandiose military projects and shortchanges the education, health, and safety of its citizens. ~ Chalmers Johnson

When a heart breaks a substance spills out like cement and pours through the bloodstream, hardening everything. In time, I know my heart will mend and the rock inside will crack and crumble away. But for now I'm as solid as a column. And alone I stand. ~ Sarah Noffke

When Scalia dissents, he pours gasoline on the majority, lights a match, and stomps on the ashes. ~ Irin Carmon

An invisible hand cracks open my jaw and pours fear down my throat. I choke on it. ~ Tarryn Fisher

Sweet wine pours from broken pitchers. Wisdom flows from broken lives." My ~ Joy Ohagwu

...each chime pecking a pinhole in the sheeted dark until the last layers shred completely and the light pours in and in. ~ Monica Wood

There is no doubt of the essential nobility of that man who pours into life the honest vigor of his toil, over those who compose the feathery foam of fashion that sweeps along Broadway; who consider the insignia of honor to consist in wealth and indolence; and who, ignoring the family history, paint coats of arms to cover up the leather aprons of their grandfathers. ~ Edwin Hubbel Chapin

Under various names, I have praised only you, rivers! You are milk and honey and love and death and dance. From a spring in hidden grottoes, seeping from mossy rocks, Where a goddess pours live water from a pitcher, At clear streams in the meadow, where rills murmur underground, Your race and my race begin, and amazement, and quick passage. ~ Czeslaw Milosz

I'll dissolve when the rain pours in,
When the nightmares take me,
I will scream with the howling wind,
'Cause it's a bitter world and I'd rather dream. ~ Owl City

The man who is wise, therefore, will see his life as more like a reservoir than a canal. The canal simultaneously pours out what it receives; the reservoir retains the water till it is filled, then discharges the overflow without loss to itself ... Today there are many in the Church who act like canals, the reservoirs are far too rare ... You too must learn to await this fullness before pouring out your gifts, do not try to be more generous than God. ~ Bernard Of Clairvaux

A cat pours his body on the floor like water. It is restful just to see him. ~ William Lyon Phelps

The Light of the Christ within now wipes out all fear, doubt, anger and resentment. God's love pours through me, an irresistible magnetic current. I see only perfection and draw to me my own. ~ Florence Scovel Shinn

Where the Northern Ocean, in vast whirls,
Boils round the naked, melancholy isles
Of farthest Thule; and the Atlantic surge
Pours in among the stormy Hebrides. ~ Charlotte Bronte

The Attic warbler pours her throat, Responsive to the cuckoo's note, The untaught harmony of spring. ~ Thomas Gray

Surely, somewhere in the back of Bulfinch, in a part Lillian had not gotten to, there is an obscure (abstruse, arcane, shadowy, and even hidden) version of Proserpine in he Underworld in which a tired Jewish Ceres schleps through the outskirts of Tartarus, an ugly village of tired whores who must double as laundresses and barbers, a couple of saloons, a nearly empty five-and-dime, and people too poor to pull up stakes. In this version, Ceres looks all over town for her Proserpine, who crossed the River Cyane in a pretty sailboat with Pluto, having had the good sense to come to an understanding with the king early on. Pluto and Proserpine picnic in a charming park, twinkling lights overhead and handsome wide benches like the ones in Central Park. When Ceres comes, tripping a little on her hem as she walks through the soft grass, muttering and trying to yank Proserpine to her feet so they can start the long trip home to Enna and daylight (which has lost much of its luster, now that Proserpine is queen of all she surveys), the girl does not jump up at the sight of her mother, but takes her time handing out the sandwiches and pours cups of sweetened tea for the three of them. She lays a nicely ironed napkin in her lap and another in the lap of her new husband, the king. Proserpine does not eat the pomegranate seeds by mistake, or in a moment of desperate hunger, or fright, or misunderstanding. She takes the pomegranate slice out of her husband's dark and glittering hand and pulls ~ Amy Bloom

All right. Let's give you something to tell your grandkids about. Or great-grandkids. Or great-great-grandkids."
I snort with glee, delirious with excitement. Charlie winks and pours me another finger's worth of whiskey. Then, on second thought, he tips the bottle again.
I reach out and grab its neck. "Better not," I say. "Don't want to get tipsy and break a hip. ~ Sara Gruen

When it rains, it pours but that isn't a bad thing. Take advantage of the rain as it washes away all of the residues that the side effects left behind. As you confront your side effects, walk with pride, do not turn back, face them head-on. Nothing can faze you now because the rain is clearing your path. After the rain has washed away the side effects, their powers are watered down. Therefore, they can no longer interrupt your peace, kill your joy or steal your happiness.
The side effects' time has expired. It is time to put an end once and for all to carrying everyone's dirty load. Leave them where they lie. Let them figure out their own messes and bad decisions.
Take a breather and let it go. I bet the load is so much lighter! ~ Charlena E. Jackson

It's a Vietnamese soup that answers the question, 'What happens when a former child soldier pours hot rain water over fish nightmares.' It's delicious and I can't stop eating it, that's what happens. ~ Kyle Kinane

Within the soul of America is freedom of mind and spirit in man. Here alone are the open windows through which pours the sunlight of the human spirit. Here alone is human dignity not a dream but an accomplishment. Perhaps it is not perfect, but it is more full in realization here than any other place in the world. ~ Herbert Hoover

Oh Ana!" he cries out loudly as he finds his release, holding me in place as he pours himself into me. He collapses, panting hard beside me, and he pulls me on top of him and buries his face in my hair, hold me close. "Oh baby," he breathes. "Welcome to my world. ~ E.L. James

If ever I create a website, I'll call it Two-Face Book, and I'll invite everyone to it, it will be a game board, of a whitewash chalkboard.
A social network, with reserved intentions, where we can fall into our cliques and circle of friends. We can dis who we want and accept who appeals to our discretion. Where the users will keep abusing, and abusers keep using, where the computer bullies will keep swinging and the J-birds that fly by will die; where the lonely will keep seeking and the needy still go desperate, where the envious will keep hating, and the lustful will keep flashing. Where those that think ignoring, will keep one down and the wannabes will foolishly think themselves greater by the number of "likes" that pours caffeine into their coffee. We can jump on the bandwagon of likes, or reserve not to show we care. Where the scorners, scammers and stalkers lay wait to take hold of the innocent and fragile, and my pockets will get fatter as more and more will join up, where being fake is accepted. As a mirror that stares at a different face. It will be my two-face epilogue, in a 3-world dimension, of a twofold war. I will build an empire of contagious hooks, and still we will live, happily-ever disastrous. ~ Anthony Liccione

I am an anarch in space, a metahistorian in time. Hence I am committed to neither the political present nor tradition; I am blank and also open and potent in any direction.
Dear old Dad, in contrast, still pours his wine into the same decaying old wineskins, he still believes in a constitution when nothing and no one constitutes anything. ~ Ernst Junger

But for me, if we're talking about romance, cassettes wipe the floor with MP3s. This has nothing to do with superstition, or nostalgia. MP3s buzz straight to your brain. That's part of what I love about them. But the rhythm of the mix tape is the rhythm of romance, the analog hum of a physical connection between two sloppy human bodies. The cassette is full of tape hiss and room tone; it's full of wasted space, unnecessary noise. Compared to the go-go-go rhythm of an MP3, mix tapes are hopelessly inefficient. You go back to a cassette the way a detective sits and pours drinks for the elderly motel clerk who tells stories about the old days
you know you might be somewhat bored, but there might be a clue in there somewhere. And if there isn't, what the hell? It's not a bad time. You know you will waste time. You plan on it. ~ Rob Sheffield

Water splashes and runs in a film across the glass floor suspended above the mosaics. The Hacı Kadın hamam is a typical post-Union fusion of architectures; Ottoman domes and niches built over some forgotten Byzantine palace, years and decades of trash blinding, gagging, burying the angel-eyed Greek faces in the mosaic floor; century upon century. That haunted face was only exposed to the light again when the builders tore down the cheap apartment blocks and discovered a wonder. But Istanbul is wonder upon wonder, sedimented wonder, metamorphic cross-bedded wonder. You can't plant a row of beans without turning up some saint or Sufi. At some point every country realizes it must eat its history. Romans ate Greeks, Byzantines ate Romans, Ottomans ate Byzantines, Turks ate Ottomans. The EU eats everything. Again, the splash and run as Ferid Bey scoops warm water in a bronze bowl from the marble basin and pours it over his head. ~ Ian McDonald

Everything in the world bears witness of the use or misuse of man's inner talking. Negative inner talking, particularly evil and envious inner talking, are the breeding ground of the future battlefields and penitentiaries of the world. Through habit man has developed the secret affection for these negative inner conversations. Through them he justifies failure, criticizes his neighbors, gloats over the distress of others, and in general pours out his venom on all. Such misuse of the Word perpetuates the violence of the world. ~ Neville Goddard

Sergeant Bobby Shaftoe, USMC, pours some beans into the grinder and starts to belabor the crank. A black flurry begins to accumulate in the coffeepot below. He has learned to make this stuff the Swedish way, using an egg to settle the grounds. ~ Neal Stephenson

And his Soul mocked him and said, "Surely thou hast but little joy out of thy love. Thou art as one who in time of dearth pours water into a broken vessel. Thou givest away what thou hast, and nought is given to thee in return. ... ~ Oscar Wilde

Someone's at the gate," Kit says as he pours another swirl of batter onto the hot skillet. "Ciere, if it's your mob friends, please invite them in for coffee. Just because they're blackmailing you doesn't mean you shouldn't be polite. ~ Emily Lloyd-Jones

I still can't believe that someone as hot as you has validation issues but I also know that being a very sensitive person on this planet is painful and some of us are built like sieves, or have holes where any external validation just pours right through and we never get full, and I also know it's ultimately an inside job anyway and no amount of external validation will ever be enough (though damn it can feel good in the moment, and it sort of makes me mad at god, actually, like, okay god, you built me like this so teach me how to validate myself in a way that feels as good as when a boy does it or the Internet does it, because there is always a cost when a boy does it or when the Internet does it): a love story. ~ Melissa Broder

Signs and wonders, eh? Pity if there is nothing wonderful in signs, and significant in wonders! There's a clue somewhere; wait a bit; hist--hark! By Jove, I have it! Look, you Doubloon, your zodiac here is the life of man in one round chapter; and now I'll read it off, straight out of the book. Come, Almanack! To begin: there's Aries, or the Ram--lecherous dog, he begets us; then, Taurus, or the Bull--he bumps us the first thing; then Gemini, or the Twins--that is, Virtue and Vice; we try to reach Virtue, when lo! comes Cancer the Crab, and drags us back; and here, going from Virtue, Leo, a roaring Lion, lies in the path--he gives a few fierce bites and surly dabs with his paw; we escape, and hail Virgo, the Virgin! that's our first love; we marry and think to be happy for aye, when pop comes Libra, or Scales--happiness weighed and found wanting; and while we are very sad about that, Lord! how we suddenly jump, as Scorpio, or the Scorpion, stings us in rear; we are curing the wound, when whang comes the arrows all round; Sagittarius, or the Archer, is amusing himself. As we pluck out the shafts, stand aside! here's the battering-ram, Capricornus, or the Goat; full tilt, he comes rushing and headlong we are tossed; when Aquarius, or the the Waterbearer, pours out his whole deluge and drowns us; and, to wind up, with Pisces, or the Fishes, we sleep. There's a sermon now, writ in high heaven, and the sun goes through it every year, and yet comes out of it all alive and hearty. ~ Herman Melville

She gave thanks for the grace that pours down when you least expect it-and wasn't that just another name for love? ~ Elaine Hussey

Love is a universal force, like gravity, that holds the solar system together and pours into our hearts as life-force - and gets expressed to us most beautifully by small children and animals. ~ Christiane Northrup

Four Years Since

Today I remember the day but to be honest it is everyday
That day then, the moment then, when you left us all here
More than just a father I call, a gem I treasure, that day I lost
We four girls, my mom's other half, my brothers best bud, our first love, we lost
Holding the key to the future called You, I stand still facing the gate of the past

Why I keep on asking the same question?
Why you? Why out of all those people? Why too soon? Why?
It has been years, 4 years exact, it seems like yesterday yes
You were taken too soon, words aren't enough to express
It's not fair, but who I am to blame, who Am I to question?

My eyes express longing you cannot fathom
From my open mouth my broken heart pours
Words that try to capture that image so faint
He is the picture I could not ever paint
Yet our memories is in the solid bowl being kept

Spare me even just 5 or 10 minutes of your presence
To build up this longing I feel, I am asking
I want to hear your nag; I want to hear your laugh
In my dreams please see me there
I won't get afraid nor get frightened

Like a waterfalls my tears keeps on flowing
Like a bubble your voice keeps on vanishing
He, his shadow, he himself starts from fading
I don't want to forget you please stop time from ticking
I don't want to open my eyes don't wake me from dreaming

You are t ~ Venancio Mary Ann

That's the thing about war, you can't pour yourself a cup of it and think that'll be that. As soon as you tip the kettle over, it pours out, hot, steaming, burning, black, toxic, bitter, overflowing your cup, searing your hands, emptying itself all over you. ~ Jay Grewal

Service is the overflow which pours from a life filled with love and devotion. ~ Oswald Chambers

I must not hesitate to acknowledge where Europe is great, for great she is without doubt. We cannot help loving her with all our heart, and paying her the best homage of our admiration, - the Europe who, in her literature and art, pours out an inexhaustible cascade of beauty and truth fertilizing all countries and all time; the Europe who, with a mind which is titanic in its untiring power, is sweeping the height and the depth of the universe, winning her homage of knowledge from the infinitely great and the infinitely small, applying all the resources of her great intellect and heart in healing the sick and alleviating those miseries of man which up till now we were contented to accept in a spirit of hopeless resignation; the Europe who is making the earth yield more fruit than seemed possible, coaxing and compelling the great forces of nature into man's service. Such true greatness must have its motive power in spiritual strength. ~ Rabindranath Tagore

When it rains it pours. Maybe the art of life is to convert tough times to great experiences: we can choose to hate the rain or dance in it. ~ Joan Marques

God pours out love upon all with a lavish hand
but He reserves vengeance for His very own. ~ Mark Twain

The story pours over me like water, drips down onto my head until I'm immersed head-to-toe, transported between the covers. ~ Riley Redgate

Now suzanne takes you hand
And she leads you to the river
She is wearing rags and feathers
From salvation army counters
And the sun pours down like honey
On our lady of the harbour
And she shows you where to look
Among the garbage and the flowers
There are heroes in the seaweed
There are children in the morning
They are leaning out for love
And they will lean that way forever
While suzanne holds the mirror
And you want to travel with her
And you want to travel blind
And you know that she will trust you
For shes touched your perfect body with her mind. ~ Leonard Cohen

The only way Congress can get one dollar to spend is to take that one dollar from Americans, borrow that one dollar from Americans, or inflate that one dollar from Americans. So, it's very much like the visual image of a swimming pool. A person notes there is a shallow end, so he takes the water out of the deep end and pours it in the shallow end, hoping to raise the height of the water in the pool - and you would call that person stupid. ~ Walter E. Williams

I feel grace. Warm and flowing like a river, it pours over me. I am awash in grace and cannot help but raise my face to it as I would the sun. I want to laugh as it rains downs on me, ripples through my limbs, cleanses them of fatigue and self-loathing. I am reborn in this grace, and suddenly, I can do anything. ~ Robin LaFevers

Through surrender the aspirant's ego is effaced, and ... grace ... pours down upon him like a torrential rain. ~ B.K.S. Iyengar

Forgiveness is not a result of our efforts, but is a gift. It is a gift of the Holy Spirit who showers us with mercy and grace that pours forth unceasingly from the open heart of Christ crucified and risen. ~ Pope Francis

The Zen of Childhood
You can see it in the concentration
with which he empties his shoe,
that it hardly matters how long
a sneaker full of sand will turn
an eight year old's bedroom into a beach.
It only matters that he pours out all the sand,
and hides it from his mom.
For a child,
the doing is seamless with the becoming.
Wisdom is relearning
to see the world
with a child's eyes,
not missing a single grain. ~ Beryl Dov

An awake heart is like a sky that pours light. ~ Hafez

You see, somewhere deep within the universe is a cosmic heart that pours knowledge to those with questions. And to communicate with it, you simply have to tap into your own heart. Yet there is a catch. You cannot be sleeping. You have to be wide awake. And your heart cannot be heavy. It must be as light as a feather. And your questions cannot carry any shades of darkness; they must be as childlike as a curious and receptive student of Truth. And the answers, can be interpreted in many different ways -- depending on how much truth you have in you. ~ Suzy Kassem

Love doesn't die with death. Love is like liquid; when it pours out, it seeps into others' lives. Love changes form and shape. Love gets into everything. Death doesn't conquer all; love does. Love wins every single time. Love wins by lasting through death. Love wins by loving more, loving again, loving without fear. ~ Kate O'Neill

A man walks into a coffee shop. As the man talks across the counter, the coffee guy makes his coffee and sets the cup and saucer between them. But the man doesn't drink it; he keeps talking, so the coffee gets cold, useless. The coffee guy pours it out and pulls another, sets it up. The man still can't stop talking and the next one goes bad too. So the coffee guy throws that one out, makes another. And this goes on, see? You may think you're the coffee guy in the parable, but you're not - you're the espresso. (It's like that in parables.) You're not for you. You're someone else's beverage. And God, the coffee guy, he's going to keep remaking you again and again, as many times as it takes until you're drinkable. God's pulling the shots and he's got standards. ~ Geoffrey Wood

In those jaws of swift destruction, like another Jonah (by which name they indeed called him), bustles a little withered old man, who, for their money, dearly sells the sailors deliriums and death. Abominable are the tumblers into which he pours his poison. ~ Herman Melville

It serves the American socialists as a leading argument in their endeavor to depict American capitalism as a curse of mankind. Reluctantly forced to admit that capitalism pours a horn of plenty upon people and that the Marxian prediction of the masses' progressive impoverishment has been spectacularly disproved by the facts, they try to salvage their detraction of capitalism by describing contemporary civilization as merely materialistic and sham.
Bitter attacks upon modem civilization are launched by writers who think that they are pleading the cause of religion. They reprimand our age for its secularism.
They bemoan the passing of a way of life in which, they would have us believe, people were not preoccupied with the pursuit of earthly ambitions but were first of ali concerned about the strict observance of their religious duties. They ascribe ali evils to the spread of skepticism and agnosticism and passionately advocate a return to the orthodoxy of ages gone by.
It is hard to find a doctrine which distorts history more radically than this antisecularism. There have always been devout men, pure in heart and dedicated to a pious life. But the religiousness of these sincere believers had nothing in common with the established system of devotion. It is a myth that the political and social institutions of the ages preceding modem individualistic philosophy and modem capitalism were imbued with a genuine Christian spirit. The teachings of the Gospels did not det ~ Ludwig Von Mises

Writing, too, is 90 percent listening. You listen so deeply to the space around you that it fills you, and when you wrote, it pours out of you. If you can capture that reality around you, your writing needs nothing else. You don't only listen to the air, the chair, and the door. And go beyond the door. Take in the sound of the season, the sound of the color coming in through the windows. Listen to the past, future, and present right where you are. Listen with your whole body, not only with your ears, but with your hands, your face, and the back of your neck.
Listening is receptivity. The deeper you can listen, the better you can write. You can take in the way things are without judgment, and the next day you can write the truth about the way things are."
...If you can capture the way things are that's all the poetry you ever need. ~ Natalie Goldberg

When a woman gives birth her waters break and she pours out the child and the child runs free. ~ Jeanette Winterson

To say that God is love is not to romanticize his character or soften his holiness. In fact, the love of God means very little apart from his holiness and justice. The love of God is magnified in that he loves the unholy and pours out blessings upon those deserving just punishment for sin. ~ Joe Thorn

Her heart aches for her daughter. She is doing the only thing a mother can do under tragic circumstances. She sits by her daughter's side and listens as the younger woman pours her heart out. ~ Mark M. Bello

Now Suzanne takes your hand
and she leads you to the river
She is wearing rags and feathers
from Salvation Army counters
And the sun pours down like honey
on our lady of the harbour
And she shows you where to look
among the garbage and the flowers ~ Leonard Cohen

Peppermint Whiskey? Hell, reindeer, keep up this niceness and I may have to take ya back home with us."
I lean close to him and whisper loudly, "You've already got a reindeer. You couldn't handle two of us."
He pours himself a shot before responding.
"Ha! You obviously didn't know my rep in the North Pole before Randy or you'd never make such a ludicrous statement. ~ Candi Kay

Dominic, with the powerful aura, got under my skin before I had a chance to ward him off and now I'm screwed.

Even more now I know his taste and how hard he feels against the soft, wet parts of me.

Dominic just introduced me to the most dangerous man in New York.

Fuck. Fuck. Clarity pours over me.

Does this mean Dominic is a member of the mafia after all?

Only it wasn't only a little kiss, was it? I'm sexually frustrated and Dom is standing there with his hands in his tailored pants pockets, aroused.

The bulge is unmistakable.

"Gabriella…"

God, I'm wet too. If I rub my thighs together, I'll feel how much. He's hard, I'm wet… it's a match made in heaven.

"Gabriella…" he says again, thick and tarnished as I look him up and down.

"Yeah?"

"I said you're too far away," he murmurs, cutting his dark gaze my way. Stirring me. "Come here to me, cara." he hooks two fingers with a motion and smirks like a devil with the key to all my desires. I swear my belly bottoms out as my feet carry me forward. Unable to refuse the invisible rope he has around my waist, pulling me closer.

"Bossy aren't you?"
"I am your boss."
"I don't think you want to remind me of that."

He hums and the rumble hurtles down between my thighs.

How does he do that? Turn me on with just a noise.

"I guess you'd like it if I called you sir, wouldn' ~ V. Theia

These are only words, not incisions or shocks, so their violence may be harder to see...a man's wrist lifts as he pours water from a pitcher, making it seem as if water, wrist, world, exist so this angle can be. A parallelogram of moonlight reads the bumps on his back as he sleeps in my arms. When I fix on these images, I know that to transform the desire they embody into loathing would be a violence as sure as a knife across a painting ~ Kenji Yoshino

In vocal prayer we speak to God; in mental prayer he speaks to us. It is then that God pours Himself into us. ~ Mother Teresa

Hatred is blind and anger deaf: the one who pours himself a cup of vengeance is likely to drink a bitter draught. ~ Alexandre Dumas

For what is a man, what are we all, but bits of time caught for a moment in a tangle of blood, bones, skin, and brain? She was time. Mauser was time. I am a sorry bit of time myself. We are time's containers. Time pours into us and then pours out again. In between the two pourings we live our destiny. ~ Louise Erdrich

You can't touch love, but you can feel the sweetness that it pours into everything. ~ Anne Sullivan Macy

Human beings say, "It never rains but it pours." This is not very apt, for it frequently does rain without pouring. The rabbits' proverb is better expressed. They say, "One cloud feels lonely": and indeed it is true that the sky will soon be overcast. ~ Richard Adams

He pours light into our minds, arouses our desire and gives us strength ... As the soul is the life of the body, so the Holy Spirit is the life of our souls. ~ Peter Damian

I know the thrill of the grasses when the rain pours over them.
I know the trembling of the leaves when the winds sweep through them.
I know what the white clover felt as it held a drop of dew pressed close in its beauteousness.
I know the quivering of the fragrant petals at the touch of the pollen-legged bees.
I know what the stream said to the dipping willows, and what the moon said to the sweet lavender.
I know what the stars said when they came stealthily down and crept fondly into the tops of the trees. ~ Muriel Strode