Quotes about strand
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Marco Girolamo Vida photo

“While the hoarse ocean beats the sounding shore,
Dashed from the strand, the flying waters roar.”

Tunc longe sale saxa sonant, tunc et freta ventis Incipiunt agitata tumescere: littore fluctus Illidunt rauco.

Marco Girolamo Vida (1485–1566) Italian bishop

Book III, line 388. Compare:
But when loud surges lash the sounding shore,
The hoarse rough verse should like the torrent roar.
Alexander Pope, An Essay on Criticism, Part II, line 168
De Arte Poetica (1527)

Mark Hopkins (educator) photo
Edward Jenks photo
Stevie Ray Vaughan photo

“I am stranded, caught in the crossfire.”

Stevie Ray Vaughan (1954–1990) American guitarist, songwriter and recording artist

"Crossfire", In Step
Song lyrics

John Millington Synge photo
Robert Burns photo

“It was a' for our rightfu' King
We left fair Scotland's strand.”

Robert Burns (1759–1796) Scottish poet and lyricist

It Was A' for Our Rightfu' King, st. 1
Johnson's The Scots Musical Museum (1787-1796)

John Ogilby photo
Chuck Palahniuk photo
Wilfred Thesiger photo

“One American life from birth to death is like a single fiber. Each one is spun into the yarn of a family and the strand of a home town and the rope of a home state.”

Source: The Sand Pebbles (1962), Ch. 5; speech of Lt. Collins, the commander of the San Pablo to his crew at the start of summer cruising on the Yangtze River
Context: "Tomorrow we begin our summer cruising to show the flag on Tungting lake and the Hunan rivers," he said. "At home in America, when today reaches them, it will be Flag Day. They will gather to do honor and hear speeches. For us who wear the uniform, every day is Flag Day. We pay our honor in act and feeling and we have little need of words. But on this one day it will not hurt us to grasp briefly in words the meaning of our flag. That is what I want to talk about this morning.
"Our flag is the symbol of America. I want you to grasp what America really is," Lt. Collins said, nodding for emphasis. "It is more than marks on a map. It is more than buildings and land. America is a living structure of human lives, of all the American lives that ever were and ever will be. We in San Pablo are collectively only a tiny, momentary bit of that structure. How can we, standing here, grasp the whole of America?" He made a grasping motion. "Think now of a great cable," he said, and made a circle with his arms. "The cable has no natural limiting length. It can be spun out forever. We can unlay it into ropes, and the ropes, into strands, and the strands into yarns, and none of them have any natural ending. But now let us pull a yarn apart into single fibers —" he made plucking motions with his fingers " — and each man of us can find himself. Each fiber is a tiny, flat, yellowish thing, a foot or a yard long by nature. One American life from birth to death is like a single fiber. Each one is spun into the yarn of a family and the strand of a home town and the rope of a home state. The states are spun into the great, unending, unbreakable cable that is America."
His voice deepened on the last words. He paused, to let them think about it....
"No man, not even President Coolidge, can experience the whole of America directly," Lt. Collins resumed. "We can only feel it when the strain comes on, the terrible strain of hauling our history into a stormy future. Then the cable springs taut and vibrant. It thins and groans as the water squeezes out and all the fibers press each to each in iron hardness. Even then, we know only the fibers that press against us. But there is another way to know America."
He paused for a deep breath. The ranks were very quiet.
"We can know America through our flag which is its symbol," he said quietly. "In our flag the barriers of time and space vanish. All America that ever was and ever will be lives every moment in our flag. Wherever in the world two or three of us stand together under our flag, all America is there. When we stand proudly and salute our flag, that is what we know wordlessly in the passing moment....
"Understand that our flag is not the cloth but the pattern of form and color manifested in the cloth," Lt. Collins was saying. "It could have been any pattern once, but our fathers chose that one. History has made it sacred. The honor paid it in uncounted acts of individual reverence has made it live. Every morning in American schoolrooms children present their hearts to our flag. Every morning and evening we render it our military salutes. And so the pattern lives and it can manifest itself in any number of bits of perishable cloth, but the pattern is indestructible."

Don McLean photo

“Every thread of creation is held in position
By still other strands of things living.”

Don McLean (1945) American Singer and songwriter

"Tapestry"
Song lyrics, Tapestry (1970)
Context: Every thread of creation is held in position
By still other strands of things living.
In an earthly tapestry hung from the skyline
Of smouldering cities so gray and so vulgar,
As not to be satisfied with their own negativity
But needing to touch all the living as well.

Kate Bush photo

“For Now does ride in on the curl of the wave,
And you will dance with me in the sunlit pools.
We are of the going water and the gone.
We are of water in the holy land of water
And all that's to come runs in
With the thrust on the strand.”

Kate Bush (1958) British recording artist; singer, songwriter, musician and record producer

This is the portion of "Jig of Life" which was actually written as well as spoken by Kate's brother John Carder Bush.
Song lyrics, Hounds of Love (1985), The Ninth Wave
Context: Can't you see where memories are kept bright?
Tripping on the water like a laughing girl.
Time in her eyes is spawning past life,
One with the ocean and the woman unfurled,
Holding all the love that waits for you here.
Catch us now for I am your future.
A kiss on the wind and we'll make the land.
Come over here to where When lingers,
Waiting in this empty world,
Waiting for Then, when the lifespray cools.
For Now does ride in on the curl of the wave,
And you will dance with me in the sunlit pools.
We are of the going water and the gone.
We are of water in the holy land of water
And all that's to come runs in
With the thrust on the strand.

“In some sense, every magician is a weaver, merely one who works with invisible strands of the hidden light.”

Katharine Kerr (1944) American writer

Notes from the "The Pseudo-Iamblichos Scroll" in The Spirit Stone (2007)

Context: In some sense, every magician is a weaver, merely one who works with invisible strands of the hidden light. With it we weave our various forms, just as a weaver produces cloth, and then stitch them into the images we desire, just as a tailor sews cloth into a tunic or robe. If we be journeymen in our craft, forces will come to inhabit our forms, just as a person will come to buy the tunic and place it over his body. But if we have plumbed the secret recesses of our art, if we are masters of our craft, then we can both weave the forms and place our own bodies within them.

“For Now does ride in on the curl of the wave,
And you will dance with me in the sunlit pools.
We are of the going water and the gone.
We are of water in the holy land of water
And all that's to come runs in
With the thrust on the strand.”

John Carder Bush (1944) British artist; brother of Kate Bush

This portion of the track "Jig of Life" on his sister Kate's album Hounds of Love (1985) was actually written as well as spoken by JCB.
Jig of Life (1985)
Context: Can't you see where memories are kept bright?
Tripping on the water like a laughing girl.
Time in her eyes is spawning past life,
One with the ocean and the woman unfurled,
Holding all the love that waits for you here.
Catch us now for I am your future.
A kiss on the wind and we'll make the land.
Come over here to where When lingers,
Waiting in this empty world,
Waiting for Then, when the lifespray cools.
For Now does ride in on the curl of the wave,
And you will dance with me in the sunlit pools.
We are of the going water and the gone.
We are of water in the holy land of water
And all that's to come runs in
With the thrust on the strand.

Dora Russell photo

“Art that means anything in the life of a community must bear some relation to current interpretations of the mystery of the universe. Our rigid separation of the humanities and the sciences has temporarily left our art stranded or stammering and incoherent.”

Dora Russell (1894–1986) author, feminist, socialist campaigner

Source: The Right to Be Happy (1927), Ch. V, p. 235
Context: Art that means anything in the life of a community must bear some relation to current interpretations of the mystery of the universe. Our rigid separation of the humanities and the sciences has temporarily left our art stranded or stammering and incoherent. Both art and science ought to be blended in our early education of our children's emotions and powers of observation, and that harmony carried forward in later education.

George Eliot photo

“When Cain was driven from Jehovah's land
He wandered eastward, seeking some far strand
Ruled by kind gods who asked no offerings
Save pure field-fruits”

George Eliot (1819–1880) English novelist, journalist and translator

The Legend of Jubal (1869)
Context: When Cain was driven from Jehovah's land
He wandered eastward, seeking some far strand
Ruled by kind gods who asked no offerings
Save pure field-fruits, as aromatic things,
To feed the subtler sense of frames divine
That lived on fragrance for their food and [wine]]:
Wild joyous gods, who winked at faults and folly,
And could be pitiful and melancholy.
He never had a doubt that such gods were;
He looked within, and saw them mirrored there.

Willard van Orman Quine photo
Charles Stross photo

“I’m stranded in limbo, otherwise known as downtown Denver.”

Source: The Laundry Files, The Apocalypse Codex (2012), Chapter 8, “Omega Course” (p. 141)

Bill Bryson photo

“Making models was reputed to be hugely enjoyable… But when you got the kit home and opened the box the contents turned out to be of a uniform leaden gray or olive green, consisting of perhaps sixty thousand tiny parts, some no larger than a proton, all attached in some organic, inseparable way to plastic stalks like swizzle sticks. The tubes of glue by contrast were the size of large pastry tubes. No matter how gently you depressed them they would blurp out a pint or so of a clear viscous goo whose one instinct was to attach itself to some foreign object—a human finger, the living-room drapes, the fur of a passing animal—and become an infinitely long string. Any attempt to break the string resulted in the creation of more strings. Within moments you would be attached to hundreds of sagging strands, all connected to something that had nothing to do with model airplanes or World War II. The only thing the glue wouldn’t stick to, interestingly, was a piece of plastic model; then it just became a slippery lubricant that allowed any two pieces of model to glide endlessly over each other, never drying. The upshot was that after about forty minutes of intensive but troubled endeavor you and your immediate surroundings were covered in a glistening spiderweb of glue at the heart of which was a gray fuselage with one wing on upside down and a pilot accidentally but irremediably attached by his flying cap to the cockpit ceiling. Happily by this point you were so high on the glue that you didn’t give a shit about the pilot, the model, or anything else.”

Source: The Life And Times of the Thunderbolt Kid (2006), p. 81

Will Cuppy photo

“During the Cretaceous Period many of the inland seas dried up, leaving the Plesiosaurs stranded without any fish. Just about that time Mother Nature scrapped the whole Age of Reptiles and called for a new deal. And you can see what she got.”

Will Cuppy (1884–1949) American writer

Footnote: Here we see the working of another Law of Nature: No water, no fish.
The Plesiosaur
How to Become Extinct (1941)

John Kendrick Bangs photo
Dana Arnold photo
Matthew Arnold photo
Matthew Arnold photo
Isabel Allende photo

“I imagined the structure of the novel like a braid. My job was to blend three strands evenly and neatly. Each piece of the braid represented one of the stories. The characters were very different but they had something in common: they were emotionally wounded by events of their past.”

Isabel Allende (1942) Chilean writer

On her work In the Midst of Winter in “INTERVIEWS: Isabel Allende” https://bookpage.com/interviews/21986-isabel-allende-fiction#.XajuoPlKjcs in BookPage (2017 Oct 31)

Arthur C. Clarke photo
Winston S. Churchill photo
E.E. Cummings photo
Teal Swan photo