Tenorio River Quotes

He built up a situation that was far enough from the truth. It never occurred to him that Helen was to blame. He forgot the intensity of their talk, the charm that had been lent him by sincerity, the magic of Oniton under darkness and of the whispering river. Helen loved the absolute. Leonard had been ruined absolutely, and had appeared to her as a man apart, isolated from the world. A real man, who cared for adventure and beauty, who desired to live decently and pay his way, who could have travelled more gloriously through life than the Juggernaut car that was crushing him. ~ E. M. Forster

In compassion and grace, be like the sun...
In concealing other's faults, be like the night...
In generosity and helping others, be like a river...
In anger and fury, be like dead...
In modesty and humility, be like the earth...
In tolerance, be like the sea...
Either appear as you are, or be as you appear.. ~ Jalaluddin Rumi

What would we say if the Chinese sent a gunboat with their marines up the Mississippi River claiming they were protecting their laundries in Memphis? ~ Will Rogers

The voices of all the lost, all the Indians, metis, hunters, Mounted Police, wolfers, cowboys, all the bundled bodies that the spring uncovered and the warming sun released into the stink of final decay; all the starving, freezing, gaunt, and haunted men who had challenged this country and failed; all the ghosts from smallpox-stilled Indian camps, the wandering spirits of warriors killed in their sleep on the borders of the deadly hills, all the skeleton women and children of the starving winters, all the cackling, maddened cannibals, every terrified, lonely, crazed, and pitiful outcry that these plains had ever wrung from human lips, went wailing and moaning over him, mingled with the living shouts of the foreman and the old-timer, and he said, perhaps aloud, remembering the legend of the Crying River, and the voices that rode the wind there as here, Qu'appelle? Qu'appelle? ~ Wallace Stegner

The Tejo runs down from Spain
And the Tejo goes into the sea in Portugal.
Everybody knows that.
But not many people know the river of my village
And where it comes from
And where it's going.
And so, because it belongs to less people,
The river of my village is freer and greater. ~ Alberto Caeiro

America is a great story and there is a river on every page of it. ~ Charles Kuralt

When rowan leaves are dank and rusting And rowan berries red as blood, When in my palm the hangman's thrusting The final nail with bony thud, When, over the foul flooding river, Upon the wet grey height, I toss Before my land's grim looks, and shiver As I swing here upon the cross, Then, through the blood and weeping, stretches My dying sight to space remote; I see upon the river's reaches Christ sailing to me in a boat. ~ Alexander Blok

Each soil has had its own history. Like a river, a mountain, a forest, or any natural thing, its present condition is due to the influences of many things and events of the past. ~ Charles Kellogg

Feed, Jacques. I offer my life freely to you as you have so many times done for me."
Mikhail slashed his wrist and held it out to his brother.
The moment the richness spilled into his mouth, the taste and surge of power brought a rush of memories. Mikhail laughing, pushing Jacques from a tree branch playfully. Mikhail's body crouched low, protectively, in front of his as a vampire with brown-stained teeth began to grow long, dagger-like nails. Mikhail holding Raven's limp body, a river of blood, the earth and sky erupting all around them while Mikhail looked up at Jacques with the hopeless resolve to join his lifemate in her fate.
Jacques' eyes jumped to Mikhail's face, examined every inch of it. This man was a leader, a dangerous, powerful predator who had skillfully steered their dying race through centuries of pitfalls. One whom such as Gregori chose to follow. Something stirred inside Jacques, the need to protect this man, to shield him. Mikhail.
Mikhail's head jerked up. He heard his name echo clearly in his head. The path had been there for one heartbeat, familiar and strong; then just as quickly it was lost. ~ Christine Feehan

Let there be sleep after death...Let me not be lonely for her. Let my desire be as ashes, my heart as a stone lost in a dark river. ~ Christine Monson

Heraclitus somewhere says that all things are in process and nothing stays still, and likening existing things to the stream of a river he says that you would not step twice into the same river. ~ Heraclitus

Yeah. Like when someone doesn't know their vision isn't perfect. They think they can see fine. But the moment they put those glasses on for the first time, they see everything so clearly, so vivid. They realize how much detail and beauty they've been missing. That's Hetch. He's my glasses. ~ River Savage

Just find your way, like a river settling into its bed, and the sigh of the wind over a lake, light but restful ... content with the joy in the arc of an arm throwing a ball for a dog to fetch, the ease of the grassy slope stretching away, birds in the trees singing sweet high notes, flowers growing close in the ditch. ~ Jay Woodman

What I call innocence is the spirit's unself-conscious state at any moment of pure devotion to any object. It is at once a receptiveness and total concentration. One needn't be, shouldn't be, reduced to a puppy. If you wish to tell me that the city offers galleries, I'll pour you a drink and enjoy your company while it lasts; but I'll bear with me to my grave those pure moments at the Tate (was it the Tate?) where I stood planted, open-mouthed, born, before that one particular canvas, that river up to my neck, gasping, lost, receding into watercolor depth and depth to the vanishing point, buoyant, awed, and had to be literally hauled away. These are our few live seasons. Let us live them as purely as we can, in the present. ~ Annie Dillard

Hatred towards thy neighbor is the cage that deprives us from social freedom. ~ Jaime Tenorio Valenzuela

Arnold started to investigate the charitable donations as they maneuvered his trolley through the slush and drifts. "Tastes…sort of familiar," he said. "Familiar like what?" "Like mud and old boots." "Garn! That's posh grub, that is." "Yeah, yeah…" Arnold chewed for a while. "You don't think we've become posh all of a sudden?" "Dunno. You posh, Ron?" "Buggrit." "Yep. Sounds posh to me." The snow began to settle gently on the River Ankh.
"Still…Happy New Year, Arnold." "Happy New Year, Duck Man. And your duck."
"What duck?"
"Happy New Year, Henry."
"Happy New Year, Ron."

"Buggrem!" "And god bless us, every one," said Arnold Sideways. The curtain of snow hid them from view. "Which god?" "Dunno. What've you got? ~ Terry Pratchett

Ricky had taught me a few cuss words. I usually practiced them in the woods by the river, then prayed for forgiveness as soon as I was done. ~ John Grisham

Some walked hand in hand with those they had loved in life; some waited, secure that one day their beloved would come. And for those who had not loved, whose lives had been filled with pain and horror, there was the black river Lethe, where one might drink and forget. Some consolation. ~ Madeline Miller

The gods of Djelibeybi In the river kingdom of Djelibeybi, the national religion ~ Terry Pratchett

Wrath to come implies both the futurity and perpetuity of this wrath ... Yea, it is not only certainly future, but when it comes it will be abiding wrath, or wrath still coming. When millions of years and ages are past and gone, this will still be wrath to come. Ever coming as a river ever flowing. ~ John Flavel

Outside the gates of the finca, watching the passing rows of tin-roofed shacks which represented the residential section of San Francisco de Paula, I began to think about The Old Man and the Sea, and I realized it was Ernest's counterattack against those who had assaulted him for Across the River. It was an absolutely perfect counterattack and I envisioned a row of snickering carpies bearing the likenesses of Dwight Macdonald and Louis Kronenberger and E.B. White, who in the midst of cackling, "Through! Washed Up! Kaput!" suddenly grab their groins and keel over. It is a rather elementary military axiom that he who attacks must anticipate the counterattack, but the critics, poor boys, would never make General Staff. As Ernest once said, "One battle doesn't make a campaign but critics treat one book, good or bad, like a whole goddamn war. ~ A. E. Hotchner

Heraclitus says you cannot step into the same river twice. We can also say that the same river cannot touch us twice! ~ Mehmet Murat Ildan

Ask the river about it, my friend! Listen to it, laugh about it! Do you then really think that you have committed your follies in order to spare your son them? Can you then protect your son from Samsara? How? Through instruction, through prayers, through exhortation? My dear friend, have you forgotten that instructive story about Siddhartha, the Brahmin's son, whiuch you once told me here? Who protected Siddhartha the Samana from Samsara, from sin, greed and folly? Could his father's piety, his teacher's exhortations, his own knowledge, his own seeking, protect him? Which father, which teacher, could prevent him from living his own life, from soiing himself with life, from loading himself with sin, from swallowing the bitter drink himself, from finding his own path? Do you think, my dear friend, that anybody is spared this path? Perhaps your little son, because you would like to see him spared sorrow and pain and disillusionment? But if you were to die ten times for him, you would not alter his destiny in the slightest. ~ Hermann Hesse

I once watched a natural dam break on television. I remember seeing a scenic picture of a river surrounded by trees. All of the sudden, the trees disappeared
sucked away by the collapse of the riverbank. A swell of angry water rushed around the corner wiping out everything in its path. It was sudden, and it was violent.
I see the dam break in Caleb's eyes. ~ Tarryn Fisher

Zane helped Maya down from her horse, then reached for Phoebe. He was stunned when he felt her cold, soaked clothes.
"Run a bath," he yelled to the housekeeper. He turned back to Phoebe. "Can you feel your toes?"
"No, and I don't want to. They're going to hurt."
Maya came over and wrapped an arm around her. "Don't sweat it, Zane. I'll make sure she gets warmed up. See what happens when you cross a river. When I get back to the city, I'm not leaving my house for at least six weeks. And I'm going to spend all my time ordering things delivered. There will be no roughing it for me."
Phoebe shivered as she walked toward the house. "I liked it. It was all very exciting. Well, not the river, but the rest of it. Wasn't Manny brave? And he saved my life. I need to get him a gift. What do you think he'd like?"
"His balls back. ~ Susan Mallery

in truth man is polluted river. one must be a sea to receive a polluted river without becoming defiled. ~ Friedrich Nietzsche

She struggled to think of one day in more than fifteen years of life when instead of drifting along like a leaf on the river she'd simply grabbed what she wanted. The ~ Emma Donoghue

But blasting the drummer into the river, though it would have been easy at this range, was not a good way to be inconspicuous. ~ Neal Stephenson

Public work does not cut into personal creativity. They are streams from the same river but with different destinations. ~ Grace Cavalieri

Life was like a river, and the river flowed in one direction and one direction only. Sometimes it moved nice and easy through familiar territory; other times it became wild and turbulent and carried you to untamed lands. You either made the most of the ride or you didn't. ~ Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

Never let me lose the marvel
of your statue-like eyes, or the accent
the solitary rose of your breath
places on my cheek at night.
I am afraid of being, on this shore,
a branchless trunk, and what I most regret
is having no flower, pulp, or clay
for the worm of my despair.
If you are my hidden treasure,
if you are my cross, my dampened pain,
if I am a dog, and you alone my master,
never let me lose what I have gained,
and adorn the branches of your river
with leaves of my estranged Autumn. ~ Federico Garcia Lorca

The point is this: that the stream of memory may lead you to the river of understanding. And understanding, in turn, may be a tributary to the river of forgiveness. ~ Wally Lamb

By the twelfth day of his fast, Raju himself has become a tourist attraction. Before an enormous crowd and an American television crew, the starving man is helped down to the drought-stricken river to pray: ~ R.K. Narayan

I am an artist. And An artist is simply a man who is pulled along by a river: on one side sanity lies, and the other madness, yet he will find no peace on either, as the current of his art drags him away from the everyday life on it's banks, where others watch, unable to help him until he reaches the immensity of the ocean. ~ Felix J. Palma

Hour of Stars (1920) The round silence of night, one note on the stave of the infinite. Ripe with lost poems, I step naked into the street. The blackness riddled by the singing of crickets: sound, that dead will-o'-the-wisp, that musical light perceived by the spirit. A thousand butterfly skeletons sleep within my walls. A wild crowd of young breezes over the river. ~ Federico Garcia Lorca

When we are comfortable with ourselves and have accepted ourselves wholly, others will find us approachable and will like us for who we are. I wish you could see my true nature. Beyond my body and labels, there is a river of tenderness and vulnerability. Beyond stereotypes and assumptions, there is a valley of openness and authenticity. Beyond memory and ego, there is an ocean of awareness and compassion. ~ Heamin Sunim

STARS

Here in my head, language
keeps making its tiny noises.

How can I hope to be friends
with the hard white stars

whose flaring ad hissing are not speech
but a pure radiance?

How can I hope to be friends
with the yawning spaces between them

where nothing, ever, is spoken?
Tonight, at the edge of the field,

I stood up very still, and looked up,
and tried to be empty of words.

What joy was it, that almost found me?
What amiable peace?

Then it was over, the wind
roused up in the oak trees behind me

and I fell back, easily.
Earth has a hundred thousand pure contraltos-

even the distant night bird
as it talks threat, as it talks love

over the cold, black fields.
Once, deep in the woods,

I found the skull of a bear
and it was utterly silent-

and once a river otter, in a steel trap,
and it too was utterly silent.

What can we do
but keep breathing in and out,

modest and willing, and in our places?
Listen, listen, I'm forever saying,

Listen to the river, to the hawk, to the hoof,
to the mockingbird, to the jack-in-the-pulpit-

then I come up with a few words, like a gift.
Even as now.

Even as the darkness has remained the pure, deep darkness.
Even as the stars have ~ Mary Oliver

This report is maybe 12-years-old. Parliament buried it, and it stayed buried till River dug it up. This is what they feared she knew. And they were right to fear because there's a whole universe of folk who are gonna know it, too. They're gonna see it. Somebody has to speak for these people. You all got on this boat for different reasons, but you all come to the same place. So now I'm asking more of you than I have before. Maybe all. Sure as I know anything I know this, they will try again. Maybe on another world, maybe on this very ground swept clean. A year from now, 10, they'll swing back to the belief that they can make people ... better. And I do not hold to that. So no more running. I aim to misbehave. ~ Joss Whedon