Silting Up Quotes & Sayings

Till the time, you are enjoying the outside process, everything seems alright, but when the query arises, about why life, you search for the deeper meaning with life. — Roshan Sharma

Blindness is also this, to live in a world where all hope is gone. — Jose Saramago

Better to be wrong than be boring. — Andre Geim

This kiss had to last Park forever.
It had to get him home.
He needed to remember it when he woke up scared in the middle of the night. — Rainbow Rowell

Extraordinary what the body remembers. The bones loded with love, grief silting the arteries, fear the bowels' recurring mould. Who would have thought mere flesh and blood could hold so much of psyche's ghostly script? — Glen Duncan

I'm not mad, though," Kat said. "You lied to me, and I lied to you. We're even."
Finally he lost the grin. "When did you lie?"
She gave him a Sweet'N Low smile, as if his amusement had been poured into her. "Every time we messed around. I didn't actually enjoy myself, if you know what I mean. — Gena Showalter

Satan, the leader or dictator of devils, is the opposite, not of God, but of Michael. — C.S. Lewis

And, I think you're still the only person sharp enough to sharpen someone like me. -Tris — Veronica Roth

The likelihood that inborn differences are one contributor to social status does not mean that it is the only contributor. — Steven Pinker

Life is not inherently meaningful. We make meaning happen through the attention and care we express through our actions. — Donna Farhi

Her face is silting up, like a pond; layers are accumulating. Every once in a while, when she can afford the time, she spends a few days at a spa north of the city, drinking vegetable juice and having ultrasound treatments, in search of her original face, the one she knows is under there somewhere; she comes back feeling toned up and virtuous, and hungry. — Margaret Atwood

For years and years, even during the time of my first visit in 1962, it has been said that Calcutta was dying, that its port was silting up, its antiquated industry declining, but Calcutta hadn't died. It hadn't done much, but it had gone on; and it had begun to appear that the prophecy has been excessive. Now it occurred to me that perhaps this was what happened when cities died. They don't die with a bang; they didn't die only when they were abandoned. Perhaps, they died like this: when everybody was suffering, when transport was so hard that working people gave up jobs they needed because the fear the suffering of the travel; When no one had clean water or air; No one could go walking. Perhaps city died when they lost amenities that cities provided, the visual excitement, the heightened sense of human possibility, and became simply places where there were too many people, and people suffered. — V.S. Naipaul

She is waiting. Each spring the hard rains come and the creek rises and quickens, and more of the bank peels off, silting the water brown ad bringing to light another layer of dark earth, Decades pass. She is patient, shelled inside the blue tarp. Each spring the water laps closer, paling roots, loosening stones, scuffing and smoothing. She is waiting and one day a bit of blue appears in the bank and then more blue. The rain pauses and the sun appears but she is ready now and the bank trembles a moment and heaves the stands of tarp unfurl and she spills into the stream and is free. Bits of bone gather in an eddy, form a brief necklace. The current moves on toward the sea. — Ron Rash