A river seems a magic thing. A magic, moving, living part of the very earth itself.
Rivers know this: there is no hurry. We shall get there some day.
To put your hands in a river is to feel the chords that bind the earth together.
Sometimes, if you stand on the bottom rail of a bridge and lean over to watch the river slipping slowly away beneath you, you will suddenly know everything there is to be known.
If there is magic on this planet, it is contained in water.
What makes a river so restful to people is that it doesn't have any doubt it is sure to get where it is going, and it doesn't want to go anywhere else.
Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it.
No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it's not the same river and he's not the same man.
Rivers flow not past, but through us; tingling, vibrating, exciting every cell and fiber in our bodies, making them sing and glide.
I choose to listen to the river for a while, thinking river thoughts, before joining the night and the stars.
A Woman in harmony with her spirit is like a river flowing. She goes where she will without pretense and arrives at her destination prepared to be herself and only herself
When the well is dry, we know the worth of water.
There comes a point where we need to stop just pulling people out of the river. We need to go upstream and find out why they're falling in.
Earth and Sky, Woods and Fields, Lakes and Rivers, the Mountain and the Sea, are excellent schoolmasters, and teach some of us more than we can ever learn from books.
A river is more than an amenity, it is a treasure.
You drown not by falling into a river, but by staying submerged in it.
In rivers, the water that you touch is the last of what has passed and the first of that which comes; so with present time.
The river knows the way to the sea:
Without a pilot it runs and falls,
Blessing all lands with its charity.
A dream is like a river ever changing as it flows and a dreamer's just a vessel that must follow where it goes.
My soul has grown deep like the rivers.
I gave my heart to the mountains the minute I stood beside this river with its spray in my face and watched it thunder into foam, smooth to green glass over sunken rocks, shatter to foam again. I was fascinated by how it sped by and yet was always there; its roar shook both the earth and me.
...the meaning of my thoughts started to float away from me, like leaves that fall from a tree into a river, I was the tree, the world was the river.
You know how a river goes on and on? That's my love for you.
The care of rivers is not a question of rivers but of the human heart.
Sometimes luck is with you, and sometimes not, but the important thing is to take the dare. Those who climb mountains or raft rivers understand this.
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