Row, row, row your boat. Gently down the stream. Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream.
Life is a stream On which we strew Petal by petal the flower of our heart.
The stream from Wisdom's well, Which God supplies, is inexhaustible.
I go now to the wilderness to be a part of it; to accept my place in the world and its place in me; to grow into reality as a tree grows into the rain, to conform to the Earth as a stream conforms to the stones of its bed. To live. To aspire. To be.
Have you ever stood where a stream spills into a river? The two become one. They laugh over the stones together, twist through the sharp canyons together, plunge down the waterfalls together. It is the same when a man and woman love one another. It is not always a pleasant thing, but when it happens, a man has little to say about it. Women, like streams, can be smooth one minute and make a man feel like he’s swimming through white water the next.
No longer dependent on 30 second spots, today's marketers need a never-ending stream of content.
We tend to think of memories as monuments we once forged and may find intact beneath the weedy growth of years. But, in a real sense, memories are tied to and describe the present. Formed in an idiosyncratic way when they happened, they're also true to the moment of recall, including how you feel, all you've experienced, and new values, passions, and vulnerability. One never steps into the same stream of consciousness twice.
We are determined here in Montgomery to work and fight until justice runs 'down like water, and righteousness like a mighty stream. '
Reduce the number of lawyers. They are like beavers - they get in the middle of the stream and dam it up.
I feel that poetry is going on all the time inside, an underground stream.
Time is but the stream I go a-fishing in.
A nothing day full of wild beauty. . . . Little fish stream by, a river in water.
The reader of these Memoirs will discover that I never had any fixed aim before my eyes, and that my system, if it can be called a system, has been to glide away unconcernedly on the stream of life, trusting to the wind wherever it led.
The one stream of poetry which is continually flowing is slang.
Impulse arrested spills over, and the flood is feeling, the flood is passion, the flood is even madness: it depends on the force of the current, the height and strength of the barrier. The unchecked stream flows smoothly down its appointed channels into a calm well being.
Don't swap horses in the middle of the stream.
The stream of Time, which is continually washing the dissoluble fabrics of other poets, passes without injury by the adamant of Shakespeare.
Maybe honesty is overvalued. What's truly priceless is picking out from a stream of falsehoods the ones you most need to hear.
Life is a stream of happy and unhappy experiences, because that leads to Soul's purification. How do you get by in the dark times? Try to give love to someone, especially then.
The river is motion, turmoil, rage. As the river flows, it wonders what it would be like to be so still, to take a breath, to rest. But the rock will always wonder what lies around the bend in the stream.