The Dry Quotes

#1. Since the beginning, on the dry earth of this measureless land scraped to the bone, a few men ceaselessly made their way, possessing nothing but serving no one, the destitute and free lords of a strange kingdom.

Albert Camus

#2. If only someone else's flesh and brain and memory. If only they could have taken her mind along to the dry cleaner's and emptied the pockets and steamed and cleansed it and reblocked it and brought it back in the morning. If only ...

Ray Bradbury

#3. Words, it gave a rather convincing impression of trying to elude pursuit. The dry, faintly ironic delivery

Douglas Preston

#4. The sound of a jet, an engine warming up, even the clopping of shod hooves on pavement brings on the ancient shudder, the dry mouth and vacant eye, the hot palms and the churn of stomach high up under the rib cage.

John Steinbeck

#5. The strip of earthy, faintly visible outside the window, was running faster now, blending into a gray stream. Through the dry phrases of calculations in her mind, she noticed that she did have time to feel something: it was the hard, exhilarating pleasure of action.

Ayn Rand

#6. Housework hassles go on, are never resolved, and will probably extend into the afterlife ('Why am I the one who takes the clouds to the dry cleaners?').

Marni Jackson

#7. And it was not merely the dry hissing coil of the thirst that was quenched and dissolved, it was all my craving, all the want and misery and hunger that I had ever known.

Anne Rice

#8. I can't even go to the dry cleaner by myself anymore. You're seen in public with anybody that you might not even know, and you're speculated about.

Jessica Biel

#9. Fed on the dry husks of facts, the human heart has a hidden want which science cannot supply.

William Osler

#10. impinged on the normal nightly Holcomb noises - on the keening hysteria of coyotes, the dry scrape of scuttling tumbleweed, the racing, receding wail of locomotive

Truman Capote

#11. Already, Seattle is taking hold of her. She still holds Sedona in the dry tan of her skin and in her hair, but the fine mist of the Northwest is making its way to places she didn't know were parched.

Susan Wiggs

#12. Why Lila glaring at you, hombre? " asked Rico. "Though I wouldn't mind a hot piece of culo like that acknowledging my existence." Rico puckered his lips, sending a mock kiss in Lila's direction. I laughed when she flipped her golden hair over her shoulder and stared at the dry-erase board.

Katie McGarry

#13. You can't learn anything from saguaro cactus, from ocotillo. They are just passing through; their roots, their much heralded dormancy in the dry season, these are only illusions of permanence. They know even less than you do.

Barry Lopez

#14. When a pitcher's throwing a spitball, don't worry and don't complain, just hit the dry side like I do.

Stan Musial

#15. With that they, and many others, left the hall and joined the moving crowd in the street. The night was delightfully cool. Stars shone white in a velvet sky. The dry wind from mountain and desert blew in their faces. Pan

Zane Grey

#16. And we'd sit in the dry leaves that whispered a little with the slow respiration of our waiting and with the slow breathing of the earth and the windless october, the rank smell of the lantern fouling the brittle air, listening to the dog and the echo of louis' voice dying away

William Faulkner

#17. Beatle bones and smokin' stones the dry sands fall.

Don Van Vliet

#18. It's hard when you see a scene where it's raining, and we have the rain machine, and you see it for 5 minutes, but that scene takes all day to shoot, and you do it with rain, and the dry off, and go back and do it again.

Morris Chestnut

#19. The leadership lost its nerve. Instead of taking the lead in the reform movement ... they pulled the plug on it. They tried and are still trying to return the church to the dry ice of the previous century and a half.

Andrew Greeley

#20. The leaf twirls gently
To the dry ground
The flake tumbles lightly
To the snow mound
The lightning falls mightily
To the earth with a crash
And I plummet sleepily
From the fridge to the trash.
Such is nature's way

Francesco Marciuliano

#21. Home was where the heart was, where we bled, where we laughed, met those we love, where we built, and what we fought for. Home was the dry soil we kept nurturing unconditionally, the place we took care of ...

Cameron Jace

#22. Learn to commend thy daily acts to God, so shall the dry every-day duties of common life be steps to heaven, and lift they heart hither.

Edward Bouverie Pusey

#23. For nothing burns with such amazing speed, As the dry sticks of a religious creed.

Oliver Wendell Holmes

#24. Sit and be still
until in the time
of no rain you hear
beneath the dry wind's
commotion in the trees
the sound of flowing
water among the rocks,
a stream unheard before,
and you are where
breathing is prayer.

Wendell Berry

#25. I like to go somewhere where I learn something I didn't know before, like the Dry Tortugas between Florida and Cuba.

Amy Tan

#26. It is not true that faith, as a Victorian poet said, "puts out the eye of light"; without it there would be no light at all, not even the "dry light" of the sciences themselves: nothing venture, nothing have.

A.E. Taylor

#27. We as women analyze every little thing that comes out of men's mouths, but sometimes you've got to just pay their craziness no heed. Just pretend it's their "time of the month" and think about the dry-cleaning you've got to pick up.

Kimora Lee Simmons

#28. I can make going to the dry-cleaners last an entire day, and the dry cleaners might be 150 yards from my front door. You might find it hard to believe, but I am bone-idle lazy.

Noel Gallagher

#29. There were no lions any more. There had been lions once. Sometimes in the shimmer of the heat on the plains the motion of their running still flickered on the dry wind - tawny, great, and quickly gone. Sometimes the honey-colored moon shivered to the silence of a ghost-roar on the rising air.

Russell Hoban

#30. Greaseball, greaseball, greaseball, that's all I throw him (Rod Carew), and he still hits them. He's the only player in baseball who consistently hits my grease. He sees the ball so well, I guess he can pick out the dry side.

Gaylord Perry

#31. I love you already, and if these things be done in the dry tree, what shall be done in the green?

Mary Webb

#32. And sometimes, if I was really, really lucky, he'd smile at me. A real smile, too - not the dry one that accompanied the sarcasm we tossed around so often. I didn't want to admit it to anyone - not to Lissa, not even to myself - but some days, I lived for those smiles.

Richelle Mead

#33. If there be any one habit which more than another is the dry rot of all that is high and generous in youth, it is the habit of ridicule.

Letitia Elizabeth Landon

#34. A pelican that is wet walks with a gaited limp, and the dry fish swims alone.

Bill Cosby

#35. I like weather better than climate. The dry season is a gold vacuum; but the rainy season has change, which is weather. And while climate may create a race, weather creates the temper and sensibility of the individual.

Gertrude Diamant

#36. The Paddock was one of those medium-sized houses with a goodish bit of very tidy garden and a carefully rolled gravel drive curving past a shrubbery that looked as if it had just come back from the dry cleaner - the sort of house you take one look at and say to yourself, Somebody's aunt lives there.

P.G. Wodehouse

#37. Although farming of any sort was almost as impossible in the plains as in the dry regions of winter rains farther west, the abundance of buffaloes made life much easier in many respects.

Ellsworth Huntington

#38. When I thought about it, though, what I liked best about the session was that Helder said fuck. A good, hard word, a word with a life of its own, a fearless word. A rent in the dry elegance. Fuck.

Heather Sellers

#39. Xxx there is a certain kind of peace that you find in the middle of a city when you are the only one on the street, and you can hear your footsteps echo on the dry pavement, xxx

Steven Brust

#40. Down came the dry flakes, fat enough and heavy enough to crash like nickels on stone. It always surprised him, how quiet it was. Not like rain, but like a secret.

Toni Morrison

#41. make." He bit off a chunk of the dry meat

Robin Hobb

#42. She loved the dry, crackling heat, the way the sky at sunset looked like a sheet of fire, and the overwhelming emptiness and severity of all that open land that had once been a huge ocean bed.
pg. 21

Jeannette Walls

#43. The road lay long and black ahead of them and the heat was coming now through the thin soles of their shoes. There were young beans pushing up from the dry brown fields, tiny rows of green sprigs that stretched away in the distance.

Larry Brown

#44. All I wanted to do was lie in the dry grass with my feet in a ditch forever. I could be a convenient sort of milemarker, I thought. Get to the thief and you know you're halfway to Methana.

Megan Whalen Turner

#45. The fire catches shortly after, lapping up the dry wool, engulfing it like sweets

Rose Reid

#46. Miranda looked up at him through a haze of desire, her will consumed by a fierce crackling heat, just like the dry twigs of the old woman's fire.

Anya Seton

#47. You can get stuff done in New York that you can't in Los Angeles. If you wanted to get some milk and get your shoes repaired and drop something off at the dry cleaner, that's an all-day adventure in Los Angeles. In New York, you can bang that out in half an hour.

Justin Theroux

#48. History that is presented only as ink-embalmed data is as a flower pressed in a book. Although the dry petals still hold all the elements of the original flower, they cannot show us how it looked blooming in the field. The color and fragrance - the true reality - or the flowers are gone.

Rex Alan Smith

#49. It was unbelievable, there was the dry-cleaning ticket again. There must be more than one.

Edward St. Aubyn

#50. She could understand suddenly why people talked about passion as fire: She felt as if they had caught aflame and were burning like the dry Malibu hills, about to become ashes that would mix together forever.

Cassandra Clare

#51. A mother would never by choice sleep in a wet bed but she would gladly do so in order to spare the dry bed for her child.

Mahatma Gandhi

#52. He imagined the gazelles raising the dry dust
Like soft brush floating on the crests of sand.

Herbert Mason

#53. I try and keep busy with something, but I also give myself permission to be busy with something that is creative and rewarding, not just the errands to the dry cleaner.

Eric Lange

#54. For give the dry fool drink, then is the fool not dry. Bid the dishonest man mend himself. If he mend, he is no longer dishonest. If he cannot, let the botcher mend him. Anything

William Shakespeare

#55. Expect to have hope rekindled. Expect your prayers to be answered in wondrous ways. The dry seasons in life do not last. The spring rains will come again.

Sarah Ban Breathnach

#56. The sound of the pages turning was the sound of magic. The dry liquid feel of paper under fingertips was what magic felt like.

Emma Donoghue

#57. A few little flowers will spring up briefly in the dry gulley through which torrents of water pass occasionally. But it is steady streams that bring thick and needed crops. In the agriculture of the soul that has to do with nurturing attributes, flash floods are no substitute for regular irrigation.

Neal A. Maxwell

#58. My comedic instinct, is a little bit more rooted in - my mother's British so I've always been more of the dry receiver of the crazy as opposed to the initiator of the crazy. I'm kind of predisposed to be the straight man.

Jason Bateman

#59. Tears upon the dry sponge of heart
do not prove I am Promethean.

Adrian C. Louis

#60. The dry grasses are not dead for me. A beautiful form has as much life at one season as another.

Henry David Thoreau

#61. Let wealth come in by comely thrift,
And not by any sordid shift;
'T is haste
Makes waste;
Extremes have still their fault.
Who gripes too hard the dry and slipp'ry sand,
Holds none at all, or little, in his hand.

Robert Herrick

#62. I can't bear the smell of cigars, can you?" said Lady Partridge.
"Lionel hates it too," murmured Rachel. As did Nick, to whom the dry lavatorial stench of cigars signified the inexplicable confidence of other men's tastes and habits, and their readiness to impose them on their fellows.

Alan Hollinghurst

#63. The dry eucalyptus seeks god in the rainy cloud.
Professor Eucalyptus of New Haven seeks him
In New Haven.

Wallace Stevens

#64. The future of the world belongs to the youth of the world, and it is from the youth and not from the old that the fire of life will warm and enlighten the world. It is your privilege to breathe the breath of life into the dry bones of many around you.

Tom Mann

#65. The clock tick-tocked, solemn and profound. It might have been the dry pulse of the decaying house itself, after a while it whirred and cleared its throat and struck six times.

William Faulkner

#66. As the earth dies your spirit will bloom; as the world fades your soul will rise and glisten. Amongst the dehydrated crevices of a desert earth you will stumble upon your diamonds; in between the dry skulls and cracked bones you will find your sapphires.

C. JoyBell C.

#67. I should like to sleep like a cat,
with all the fur of time,
with a tongue rough as flint,
with the dry sex of fire;
and after speaking to no one,
stretch myself over the world,
over roofs and landscapes,
with a passionate desire
to hunt the rats in my dreams.

Pablo Neruda

#68. He can make the dry parched ground of my soul to become a pool and my thirsty barren heart as springs of water. Yes he can make this habitation of dragons this heart which is so full of abominable lusts and fiery temptations to be a place of bounty and fruitfulness unto Himself

John Owen

#69. Then the dry road dust rises to whiten
the fatigued elm leaves-
the nineteenth century, tired of children, is gone.
They're all gone into a world of light; the farm's my own.

Robert Lowell

#70. But out of the desert, from the dry places and the dreadful suns, come the cruel children of the lonely God; the real Unitarians who with scimitar in hand have laid waste the world. For it is not well for God to be alone.

Gilbert K. Chesterton

#71. Falsehood, like the dry-rot, flourishes the more in proportion as air and light are excluded.

Richard Whately

#72. The wacky thing about those bad guys is that you can't count on them to be obvious. They forget to wax their mustaches and goatees, leave their horns at home, send their black hats to the dry cleaner's. They're funny like that.

Jim Butcher

#73. Of the many forms that silence takes, the most memorable is the dry husk of the cicada.

Jon Davis

#74. Who is that is dreaming all of this? Ecstasy, pure ecstasy, joy beyond understanding, bliss beyond the dry dullness of the mind's philosophical ranging, light beyond any light in this world - The substance and the essence of all existence is this light, the transcendental light.

Frederick Lenz

#75. Certain creatures laid eggs that were able to endure the dry season. Others survived by burying themselves in mud, simulating death, waiting for the return of rain.

Jhumpa Lahiri

#76. It is the obscene horror, the dry, fucked-out aspect of things which makes this crazy civilization look like a crater. It is this great yawning gulf of nothingness which the creative spirits and mothers of the race carry between their legs.

Henry Miller

#77. And it never failed that during the dry years the people forgot about the rich years, and during the wet years they lost all memory of the dry years. It was always that way.

John Steinbeck

#78. They left their encampment with dirt-covered linen strewn about the abandoned grounds amongst clothes, shoes, children's toys and other discarded belongings. The handcart wheels crunched over them, and the dry wheels screamed as the Willie Company started for Zion.

Sage Steadman

#79. a cloudy cocktail called Smoke, made by mixing water and fuel alcohol. Smoke joints were tucked into the back of paint stores, drugstores, and markets, among the dry goods and the stacked cans.

Deborah Blum

#80. The Word of God spoke into the dry bones. His breath filled them, put tendons (repair), and put skin on ... Then you will know I am God ... When Jesus comes that will happen.

Louie Giglio

#81. She bought seeds and raided nurseries and mulched and composted and spent full days with her hands full of earth, coaxing life our of the dry, dull grass my father had spent years pushing a mower over.

Sarah Dessen

#82. A good place to meet a man is at the dry cleaner. These men usually have jobs and bathe.

Rita Rudner

#83. But think of how much worse it would be to sit here, not knowing. Until the Dead choke the Ratterlin and Hedge walks across the dry bed of the river to batter down the door.

Garth Nix

#84. When I got to L.A. I woke up and I was losing my voice because of the dry air. It was like, "Oh my god, this is going to be Joe's Pub all over again."

Hamilton Leithauser

#85. One of my pet peeves about biblical epics was that the characters' costumes always looked like they're just out of the dry cleaners.

Roma Downey

#86. I change clothes at least three times a day. It's the only way I can justify all the shopping I do. Prada to the grocery store? Yes! Gucci to the dry cleaner's? Why not? Dolce & Gabbana to the corner deli? I insist!

RuPaul

#87. Hosts loved to detain the dry lawyer, when the light-hearted and loose-tongued had already their foot on the threshold; they liked to sit awhile in his unobtrusive company, practicing for solitude, sobering their minds in the man's rich silence after the expense and strain of gaiety.

Robert Louis Stevenson

#88. The software program for motherhood is impossible to fully download into the male brain. You give them two tasks and they're like, 'I have to change the baby and get the dry cleaning?'

Allison Pearson

#89. When Jesus Christ comes back, it is not the liberal politicians who ought to be trembling, it's the pastors ... because so many men have built their 'ministries' on the dry dead bones of
unconverted church members.

Paul Washer

#90. Outside, the rain was still falling steadily; he could hear it pattering on the glass skylight at the far end of the room and cascading into the water-spouts. Inside, no one stirred; all were dozing like himself over their liqueur glasses, pleasantly conscious that they were in the dry.

Joris-Karl Huysmans

#91. All the dry ethics of the world turn to dust because apart from God they are lifeless.

Mahatma Gandhi

#92. Indolence is the dry rot of even a good mind and a good character; the practical uselessness of both. It is the waste of what might be a happy and useful life.

Tryon Edwards

#93. Even the village rain-maker no longer claimed to be able to intervene. He could not stop the rain now, just as he would not attempt to start it in the heart of the dry season, without serious danger to his own health.

Chinua Achebe

#94. The dry high spirits of this destroyer of optimism make most optimists look damp and depressed.

Philip Littell

#95. In the vast reaches of the dry, cold night, thousands of stars were constantly appearing, and their sparkling icicles, loosened at once, began to slip gradually toward the horizon.

Albert Camus

#96. They're going to leave me. All I wanted to do was lie in the dry prickly grass with my feet in a ditch forever. I could be a convenient sort of milemarker, I thought. Get to the thief and you know you are halfway to Methana. Where ever Methana might be.

Megan Whalen Turner

#97. Rather than complaining about inconsequential little irritations, I'm asking God to get right to the root of the problem, to eradicate the dry rot and fix the cracks in my foundation. I need Him to show me how to love Him and how to love His people. Even the ones I don't like - even myself.

Craig Groeschel

#98. We are surrounded by the dry thorns of the Inquisition on all four sides; throwing around words burning like fire is the shortest way to one's grave!

Mehmet Murat Ildan

#99. A trembling in the bones may carry a more convincing testimony than the dry documented deductions of the brain.

Llewellyn Powers

#100. He looked up at the round, stained glass window in front of him, a blurred kaleidoscope backlit in the morning sun. It glowed. The color of heaven. Of her hair.
He sat back and cracked open the dry, leather cover of a pew Bible, and a mixture of sweat and tears christened its pristine pages.

Red Tash