Streamed Quotes
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“In a valley shaded with rhododendrons, close to the snow line, where a stream milky with meltwater splashed and where doves and linnets flew among the immense pines, lay a cave, half, hidden by the crag above and the stiff heavy leaves that clustered below.The woods were full of sound: the stream between the rocks, the wind among the needles of the pine branches, the chitter of insects and the cries of small arboreal mammals, as well as the birdsong; and from time to time a stronger gust of wind would make one of the branches of a cedar or a fir move against another and groan like a cello.It was a place of brilliant sunlight, never undappled. Shafts of lemon-gold brilliance lanced down to the forest floor between bars and pools of brown-green shade; and the light was never still, never constant, because drifting mist would often float among the treetops, filtering all the sunlight to a pearly sheen and brushing every pine cone with moisture that glistened when the mist lifted. Sometimes the wetness in the clouds condensed into tiny drops half mist and half rain, which floated downward rather than fell, making a soft rustling patter among the millions of needles.There was a narrow path beside the stream, which led from a village-little more than a cluster of herdsmen's dwellings - at the foot of the valley to a half-ruined shrine near the glacier at its head, a place where faded silken flags streamed out in the Perpetual winds from the high mountains, and offerings of barley cakes and dried tea were placed by pious villagers. An odd effect of the light, the ice, and the vapor enveloped the head of the valley in perpetual rainbows.”
Philip Pullman
“The best art is not always the most popular art, and the most popular art is never truly the best art. The best art is that which is streamed through God. And the worst art is that which is void of God. The master artist of the universe is the Creator of All Things, and his reflection is in all of us. Only the artist who is aware that he is a reflection of that greatness, and that creativity is supreme love, is a true divine artist. Even if he is not the most popular artist, he will be very popular among the stars of His universe. That is the master artist, one who uses his talents to serve as a vehicle of God. In his work, you hear God's voice and see with His eyes.”
Suzy Kassem, Rise Up and Salute the Sun: The Writings of Suzy Kassem“This causation exists as a streamed organization of constantly fluid potential. Anything that can be must first hold the streaming potential to be. It is soul. It is always potential. It is never static. It is never rigid. Its essence is all these, which means it can not be anything other and be the Primal Cause. It is never nothing. Nothing does not exist with it. It is something. It is anything. It is everything. At the same time! Just like your consciousness. Pure Unordered Potential!”
Dew Platt, The Rudeness of Soul“The sun was deaf'nin' so high up, yay, it roared an' time streamed from it.”
David Mitchell, Cloud Atlas“Oh hours of childhood,when behind each shape more than the past appearedand what streamed out before us was not the f”
Rainer Maria Rilke, The Selected Poetry of Rainer Maria Rilke“I gulped and remained silent, a tear streamed down my face as I looked away, hoping she didn’t notice.”
Emily Williams, Letters to Eloise“Tears streamed down her wrinkled face. This world that she had longed to change for the better was as bad as the one into which she had been born. "An exercise in futility," she murmured.”
Gary Inbinder, The Hanged Man: A Mystery in Fin de Siecle Paris“God, she looked like an angel from this angle as she sat in the sunlight that streamed in from a nearby open window. I was hoping with all my heart that what I was about to tell her, wouldn’t make this angel fall.”
Angela Richardson, All the Pieces“Tears streamed down my face. I was so happy I wanted to shout it from the rooftop. But at the same time I knew that that afternoon's downpour would have made the slate tiles so slippery that achieving any kind of purchase would have been impossible.”
Alan Partridge, I, Partridge: We Need to Talk About Alan“I don’t want to let you go. Not now. Not ever.” While she said this, tears streamed out of her eyes. “I’m here with you. Always,” he murmured softly against her hair. “I love you, Ahmar. I love you so much,” she whispered.”
Sara Naveed, Undying AffinityAll in One Creative & Marketing Platform to tell stories at scale
