Footsteps In Sand Quotes & Sayings

Anyway, I followed the pulse."
"Who was it?"
"The pulse disappeared before I got there."
"Got where?"
"Emma's house, Galen. Fresh footsteps marked the sand from the water to her house. That's why the pulse disappeared-it left the water. — Anna Banks

Yeah, I was just curious. I concentrated on my footsteps.
Yeah, well, next time you think about stepping into rock concerts you might want to bring a bodyguard.
I stopped and turned around. I brought my hands to my hips, a bit offended. What is that supposed to mean?
He dropped the end of the bat into the sand.
It means your small. — Holly Hood

Hutte was always saying that, in the end, we are all "beach men" and that "the sand"--I am quoting his own words-- keeps the traces of our footsteps only a few moment — Patrick Modiano

All the nations that ever lived have left their footsteps in the sand. The traces fade with every tide, the echoes grow faint, the images are fractured, the human material is atomized and recycled. But if we know where to look, there is always a remnant, a remainder, an irreducible residue. — Norman Davies

But the waves kept moving, with the white wake of the ship traced in them for an instant, and then smoothed over by the water. And it was as if my own footsteps were being erased behind me, the footsteps I'd made as a child on the beaches and pathways of the land I'd left, and the footsteps I'd made on this side of the ocean, since coming here; all the traces of me, smoothed over and rubbed away as if they had never been, like polishing the black tarnish from the silver, or drawing your hand across dry sand.
On the edge of sleep I thought: It's as if I never existed, because no trace of me remains, I have left no marks. And that way I cannot be followed. It is almost the same as being innocent.
And then I slept. — Margaret Atwood

Hutte, for instance, used to quote the case of a fellow he called "the beach man." This man had spent forty years of his life on beaches or by the sides of swimming pools, chatting pleasantly with summer visitors and rich idlers. He is to be seen, in his bathing costume, in the corners and backgrounds of thousands of holiday snaps, among groups of happy people, but no one knew his name and why he was there. And no one noticed when one day he vanished from the photographs. I did not dare tell Hutte, but I felt that "the beach man" was myself. Though it would not have surprised him if I had confessed it. Hutte was always saying that, in the end, we were all "beach men" and that "the sand" - I am quoting his own words - "keeps the traces of our footsteps only a few moments. — Patrick Modiano

Here I am again, walking in circles around the shore.
Lost after I found the truth,
Heart turned upside down once more.
The sound of the waves are healing,
covering what the pain is revealing.
The sand cushions my footsteps
so that they may take me,
and help me open the next door. — Renee Rentmeester