Floods Quotes (page 3)
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Have you forgiven me?' I asked.
'How can I say I have, when I never had anything to forgive?'
'Well then, I must go unforgiven for I cannot forgive myself.' I said.
'O Mrs. Percivale! If you think how the world is flooded with
forgiveness, you will just dip in your cup, and take what you want.
George MacDonald
Ah, drink again
This river that is the taker-away of pain,
And the giver-back of beauty!
In these cool waves
What can be lost?--
Only the sorry cost
Of the lovely thing, ah, never the thing itself!
The level flood that laves
The hot brow
And the stiff shoulder
Is at our temples now.
Gone is the fever,
But not into the river;
Melted the frozen pride,
But the tranquil tide
Runs never the warmer for this,
Never the colder.
Immerse the dream.
Drench the kiss.
Dip the song in the stream.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
The history of the American Negro is the history of this strife,—this longing to attain self-conscious manhood, to merge his double self into a better and truer self. In this merging he wishes neither of the older selves to be lost. He would not Africanize America, for America has too much to teach the world and Africa. He would not bleach his Negro soul in a flood of white Americanism, for he knows that Negro blood has a message for the world. He simply wishes to make it possible for a man...
W. E. B. Du Bois
We in our age are faced with a strange paradox. Never before have we had so much information in bits and pieces flooded upon us by radio and television and satellite, yet never before have we had so little inner certainty about our own being. The more objective truth increases, the more our inner certitude decreases. Our fantastically increased technical power, and each forward step in technology is experienced by many as a new push toward our possible annihilation. Nietzsche was strangely...
Rollo May
There's a race of men that don't fit in, A race that can't sit still; So they break the hearts of kith and kin, And they roam the world at will. They range the field and rove the flood, And they climb the mountain's crest; Their's is the curse of the gypsy blood, And they don't know how to rest.
Robert W. Service
The banks of the Thirty-Foot held, but the swollen Wale, receiving the full force of the Upper Waters and the spring tide, gave at every point. Before the cars reached St. Paul, the flood was rising and pursuing them. Wimsey's car--the last to start--was submerged to the axles. They fled through the dusk, and behind and on their left, the great silver sheet of water spread and spread.
Dorothy L. Sayers