Wind With Sand Quotes

#1. She had sand in her mouth and between her toes, the briny wind raising goose bumps on her skin, and the sweetest, spellbound feeling spilling from her heart.
She could, at that moment, have died for him.

Lauren Kate

#2. He who, having lost one ideal, refuses to give his heart and soul to another and nobler, is like a man who declines to build a house on the rock because the wind and rain have ruined his house on the sand.

Constance Naden

#3. Long since, the desert wind wiped away our footprints in the sand. But at every second of my existence, I remember what happened, and you still walk in my dreams and in my reality. Thank you for having crossed my path.

Paulo Coelho

#4. I recall that day on the beach - the sand so brilliant, the clouds so massive, and the wind punishing your hair ...

John Geddes

#5. Some little pieces of sand are so full of ego that they see themselves as a giant rock! But then the wind blows, the big ego flies in the air!

Mehmet Murat Ildan

#6. I danced along a colored wind/ Dangled from a rope of sand

Tom Waits

#7. Wind slapped them against the cliff face, then yanked them outward in a biting swirl of airborne sand.

Steven Erikson

#8. Happiness! It is useless to seek it elsewhere than in this warmth of human relations. Our sordid interests imprison us within their walls. Only a comrade can grasp us by the hand and haul us free.

Antoine De Saint-Exupery

#9. Between lips and lips there are cities of great ash and moist summit, drops of when and how, vague comings and goings: between lips and lips as along a shore of sand and glass the wind passes.

Pablo Neruda

#10. A name with a gently exotic ring to it, like birdsong, like a grain of sand in the far-off Gobi Desert or the northern steppes, whipped up by the wind, carried by storms, swirling through the sky, travelling, crossing whole countries without knowing quite how, and ending up in the crook of my ear.

Dai Sijie

#11. The Ides of March. A sky-lidded night plain. A star-loaded sky. A moon without a pond to primp in. A wind without a leaf to tease. A nighthawk without a wire to rest on. A couple without a corner to turn. Her sandals, his wheels, made a popcorn-eating sound in the sand.

Tom Robbins

#12. Imagine the ability to let go of everything. To step back from the expectations of life, let it all slip through your fingers as though none of it mattered. Your doubts, your fears, your weaknesses, all of them falling like grains of sand into the wind. It feels like freedom, but it's an illusion.

Pippa DaCosta

#13. You've slipped away like a fistful of sand. You've vanished so quickly like a wind. Do you know how I long to hold you love of my life.

Euginia Herlihy

#14. A foundation that had been built of stone shifted like sand on the blowing wind.

R.A. Salvatore

#15. Many words will be written on the wind and the sand, or end up in some obscure digital vault. But the storytelling will go on until the last human being stops listening. Then we can send the great chronicle of humanity out into the endless universe.

Henning Mankell

#16. Sand-strewn caverns, cool and deep, Where the winds are all asleep; Where the spent lights quiver and gleam; Where the salt weed sways in the stream.

Matthew Arnold

#17. My brain is a vast, barren, jokeless plain where wolves howl at the moon over rocky overhangs and the wind kicks up twists of sand and tumbleweed.

Craig Silvey

#18. By the sandy water I breathe in the odor of the sea,
From there the wind comes and blows over the world,
By the sandy water I breathe in the odor of the sea,
From there the clouds come and rain falls over the world.

Jane Bierhorst

#19. Every time a strong wind blows, every sand and dust yearns for being a solid rock and every solid rock longs for flying with the wind!

Mehmet Murat Ildan

#20. If I stay, it's going to be in your bed."
Her pounding heart relaxed, the fear that he'd reject her floating away like tiny grains of sand in the wind. "I know."
"And we're not going to sleep."
"I'm good with that, too.

Robin Bielman

#21. Even so long after sunset, the sky in the west was touched with feather-strokes of crimson and black. The wind was blowing from the east, which meant that even in the middle of the city you could breathe in desert: sand and grit, cactus and coyotes, the burning scent of sage.

Cassandra Clare

#22. The blue of winter, the brown of spring, the red of summer, and the fall of green. I seek the place of treasures past. I seek the truth of sand and glass. I call to the wind of seasons past. I bring with me the best of summer. I am the one with whom you bask. Deliver me and complete your task.

H.D. Smith

#23. They were the men and the women of the sand, of the wind, of the light, of the night. They appeared as in a dream, at the crest of a dune, as if they were born of the cloudless sky.

Jean-Marie G. Le Clezio

#24. In a crowd we are "microbes" infecting everyone around us, a "grain of sand amid other grains of sand, which the wind stirs up at will." We are impulsive, irritable, irrational:

Jon Ronson

#25. The more we wait, the more everything and everyone looks like a grain of sand escaping between our fingers before vanishing into the wind.

Fabio Moon

#26. The wind had flung the sand thirty thousand feet into the sky above the desert in a blinding cloud from the Niger to the Nile, and somewhere in it was the airplane.

Elleston Trevor

#27. Come, for the House of Hope is built on sand: bring wine, for the fabric of life is as weak as the wind.

Hafez

#28. the Flyer and tossed it along the sand "just like you've seen an umbrella turned inside out and loose in the wind," remembered John

David McCullough

#29. Our best built certainties are but sand-houses and subject to damage from any wind of doubt that blows

Mark Twain

#30. Our religion keeps reminding us that we aren't just will and thoughts. We're also sand and wind and thunder. Rain. The seasons. All those things. You learn to respect everything because you are everything. If you respect yourself, you respect all things.

William Least Heat-Moon

#31. Our doom is, to be sifted by the wind, heaped up, smoothed down like silly sands. We are less permanent than thought.

Basil Bunting

#32. Sand choked the stainless steel gutters of concentric streets below dark skies full of stars like beds of cold jewels. And through it all, a dying wind of change blew, bringing with it the cinnamon smell of late October.

Stephen King

#33. I should like to take the wind and water and sand as a motif and work with them, but it has to be simplified in most cases to colour and force lines, just as music has done with sound.

Arthur Dove

#34. The winds were blowing from west to east, pushing Abby's boat toward the rocks as Abby struggled with the autopilots below. If Wild Eyes reached those islands, she wouldn't run aground, keel in the sand. She would be smashed into pieces.

Abby Sunderland

#35. O I will accompany the wind
Until the chain
Of my white bones
Drifts like fine sand
And I become compassing.
I become the wind.

- Song of the Wind

John Fairfax

#36. Evening of a hot day started the little wind to moving among the leaves. The shade climbed up the hills toward the top. On the sand banks the rabbits sat as quietly as little gray, sculptured stones.

John Steinbeck

#37. I am forever walking upon these shores,
Betwixt the sand and the foam,
The high tide will erase my food prints,
And the wind will blow away the foam,
But the sea and the shore will remain forever.

Kahlil Gibran

#38. And then it crumbled in his hand. It was just dust ... Sand ... A glittering, multicolored sand that fell away into the chilly wind at the end of the world.

Neil Gaiman

#39. Fanatics are like debris following the course of the wind, they are swept around like sand, and convinced to believe in what they do not understand.

Michael Bassey Johnson

#40. Rhythm. Life is full of it; words should have it, too. But you have to train your ear. Listen to the waves on a quiet night; you'll pick up the cadence. Look at the patterns the wind makes in dry sand and you'll see how syllables in a sentence should fall. Arthur Gordon

Arthur Gordon

#41. Michael had slipped beyond the crest of the dune. Jacob was lying flat out now, on his stomach, his little men all before him, and Annie had followed her single soldier up the dune to a grassy patch where the wind whipped her dark hair and the blowing sand made her squint, even

Alice McDermott

#42. The hillside before them blurred, as if a curtain of wind-blown sand rose before it. A churning wind roiled through this strange mist.

Steven Erikson

#43. He ploughs the waves, sows the sand, and hopes to gather the wind in a net, who places his hopes in the heart of a woman.

Jacopo Sannazaro

#44. What matters most:
"What he had yearned to embrace was not the flesh but a downy spirit, a spark, the impalpable angel that inhabits the flesh."
Wind, Sand and Stars.

Richard Bach

#45. The wind stilled a bit and he blinked the sand out of his eyes. Before him stood nothing less than the god of the Scrape. It had to be a god. He was huge, muscled, hung like an elephant, and sandy gold, just like his domain.

Erin Kellison

#46. Outside, the north wind, coming and passing, swelling and dying, lifts the frozen sand drives it a-rattle against the lidless windows and we may dear sit stroking the cat stroking the cat and smiling sleepily, prrrr.

William Carlos Williams