A couple of the kids ran ahead of their parents and then returned back toward the waterfall away from the parking lot saying there was a bear between them and the parking lot.
Quotes about waterfall (15 Quotes)
Why are we still born Why do we die Why are there villains in this so deceitful world Look at a waterfall or a winter picture where snow lies on the branches of the trees. Do they know is sunset or dawn are close, if they are so beautiful in the shining rays of the morning star I don not think they know we like them so much, as we cannot know if other being with other different Logical Coefficient like some of our characteristics that we do not even know we have. Then who are we Only a whisper of pain said in a evening clouded by the Creator, so clouded that this whisper gives immediately birth to death or better said, it becomes death when it is born, but an increasingly slow death until it truly passes the threshold of death and then is doe not die slowly anymore but resurrects, without knowing if this rebirth is one that will go towards a birth followed by another slow death, to the winter of the being because we know that spring always brings the buds of the new leaves that will later become the rusty colour of autumn, and if these leaves would not exist anymore, where would there be the deadly rusty colour of autumn It is nowhere.
Leisure is a form of silence, not noiselessness. It is the silence of contemplation such as occurs when we let our minds rest on a rosebud, a child at play, a Divine mystery, or a waterfall.
I think it's great, ... It shows the product in a very elegant, beautiful way. My favorite detail is the staircase. I'm mad for the staircase because of the proportions, the materials used, the virtual waterfall and all that. Marino reinvented the store in a modern way.
I sit and wait does an angel contemplate my fate and do they know the places; Where we go when we're grey and old'cos I've been told that salvation lets their wings unfold; So when I'm lying in my bed thoughts running through my head; And i feel that love is dead I'm loving angels instead; And through it all he offers me protection a lot of love and affection; Whether I'm right or wrong and down the waterfall; Wherever it may take me I know that life won't break me; When I come to call he won't forsake me I'm loving angels instead; When I'm feeling weak and my pain walks down a one way street I look above; And I know I'll always be blessed with love and as the feeling grows; He breathes flesh to my bones and when love is dead; I'm loving angels instead.
I was disappointed in Niagara --most people must be disappointed in Niagara. Every American bride is taken there, and the sight of the stupendous waterfall must be one of the earliest, if not the keenest, disappointments in American married life.
It will look like the tree and waterfall have been here together.
Experiencing the present purely is being empty and hollow you catch grace as a man fills his cup under a waterfall.
And the water will fall from each opening down from about this level. The openings are 200-feet square. We have 1,600 feet of waterfall. It will be the largest fountain in the world.
Let the love of this hour go on; let all the oaths and children and people of this love be clean as a washed stone under a waterfall in the sun.
Many a calm river begins as a turbulent waterfall, yet none hurtles and foams all the way to the sea.
What can the love in my soul be compared to another wonderful soul which is so far and yet so close of my self What can this symbiosis between two souls can be What can love be when you feel you cannot sleep at night, that every drop of dew becomes a crystal in your heart, when every breeze of wind has magical meanings What can love be when you feel that you want nothing more in this world that to be with the soul you love But what can love be in other transcendental realities What about our souls Are our souls a waterfall, a true Niagara or a smile, a flirt of an angel Are our souls a mere mood of a fairy or a lightening in a summer rain; Our souls could be all of this and much more. But what really happens in that transcendental reality when we feel we are truly in love, that we love so much that it hurts That the air in the room is unbreathable, that the sentimental, spiritual or physical distances kill us What happens when dawn find us sadder than ever, looking for an excuse or an argument for the person we love so much, our Great Love What are all thses What are the looks lost in the desert horizons of unfulfilment or those in the eyes that deeply loose each other in the others inside the souls.
A dog chained and forgotten behind the hedge,
a malachite flower with the nut-brown edge,
a wave of rain bouncing off the painted wall,
crumpling the waxen papyri with its waterfall,
spreading around, ringing and splashing again,
mixing up memories, washing off life like a stain.
I don't want to die in a car accident. When I die it'll be a glorious day. It'll probably be a waterfall.
To trace the history of a river, or a raindrop, as John Muir would have done, is also to trace the history of the soul, the history of the mind descending and arising in the body. In both we constantly seek and stumble on divinity, which, like the cornice feeding the lake and the spring becoming a waterfall, feeds, spills, falls, and feeds itself over and over again.