And so I began to read,' Sorkar said. 'And at first the complete works were like a jungle, the language was quicksand. Metaphors turned beneath my feet and became biting snakes, similes fled from my grasp like frightened deer, taking all meaning with them. All was alien, and amidst the hanging, entangling creepers of this foreign grammar, all sound became a cacophany. I feared for myself, for my health and sanity, but then I thought of my purpose, of where I was and who I was, of pain and I pressed on.
Life hath quicksands, Life hath snares!
The art of walking on quicksand is still beyond me. What I learned is only how difficult this art is to master and how hard people need to struggle to learn it.
Kevin [Drew] beat me to the punch because when he first sent "Sister OK" and I'm listening to it, it took me to a place that I had not been to in a long time. It took me to a place when you're a teenager. I understand it all now, but in a moment of confusion, in a moment of trying to find some kind of solid ground in an environment that was quicksand in my life, it's that first line just kills me all the time: "Well it's just that your sister said you'd be OK. "
Shyness is a curious thing, because, like quicksand, it can strike people at any time, and also, like quicksand, it usually makes its victims look down.
So there you have it: Nature is a rotten mess. But that's only the beginning. If you take your eyes off it for one second, it will kill you. Thorns, insects, fungus, worms, birds, reptiles, wild animals, raging rivers, bottomless ravines, dry deserts, snow, quicksand, tumbleweeds, sap, and mud. Rot, poison and death. That's Nature. It's a wonder you even step outside of your cabin, I said. My bravery exceeds my good sense, he said.
This is something that I cannot get over -- that a whole line could be written by half a man, that a work could be built on the quicksand of a character.
Never get in the middle of someone else's quicksand.
Shame is quicksand on the path to soul.
I worship the quicksand he walks in.
When I was a little kid we had a sand box. It was a quicksand box. I was an only child. . . eventually.
Vanity is the quicksand of reason.
Some people fall in love and touch the sky. Some people fall in love and find quicksand. I hover somewhere in between, I swear, I can't make up my mind.
