Quotes about Water

The priest must not postpone this union with the Holy Spirit to a more convenient season (Acts 24:25). If he neglects growth, decay sets in. There comes a time when it is too late to repent, even to ask for a drop of water to 'cool my tongue' (Lk 16:24).

You don't look back along time but down through it, like water. Sometimes this comes to the surface, sometimes that, sometimes nothing. Nothing goes away.

Then sail, my fine lady, on the billowing wave - The water below is as dark as the grave, And maybe you'll sink in your little blue boat - It's hope, and hope only, that keeps us afloat

A hot wind was blowing around my head, the strands of my hair lifting and swirling in it, like ink spilled in water.

He's got his cigarette going. He offers her one; this time she takes it. Brief match-flare insider their cupped hands. Red finger-ends. She thinks, Any more flame and we'd see the bones. It's like X-rays. We're just a kind of haze, just coloured water. Water does what it likes. It always goes downhill.

You don't look back along time but down through it, like water. Sometimes this comes to the surface, sometimes that, sometimes nothing. Nothing goes away.

Water is the best liquid possible to cleanse the tissues.... Drink some, a little time before or after a meal.

But where do we even start on the daily walk of restoration and awakening? We start where we are. We find God in our human lives, and that includes the suffering. I get thirsty people glasses of water, even if that thirsty person is just me.

Periods in the wilderness or desert were not lost time. You might find life, wildflowers, fossils, sources of water.

Some people ask me what it's like to be forgiven, to feel grace. It's like walking on a long stretch of beach with nothing in sight but sky and waves and sand. With the sun piercing its brightness, the water tickling my toes, the roaring of the sea singing omniscience and power and yet, a deep peace, the waters changing from sandy brown to light green to a heavy blue, the waves cresting with the white peaks and then rushing to find my toes.

He yearned with a poet's yearning for the wide sky, the far-reaching vista of bridges, the tender and fluctuating lights on the water which seems to breathe with a life that can shiver and mourn, be comforted and rejoice.

If there is but little water in the stream, it is the fault, not of the channel, but of the source.