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How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood, When fond recollection presents them to view.
We must acquaint the youth to the realities of the world... we must tell them that millions of people around the world have no access to drinking water.
Despite its growing scarcity and preciousness to life, ironically, water is also man’s most misgoverned, inefficiently allocated and profligately wasted natural resource.
Nobody wanted your dance, Nobody wanted your strange glitter, your floundering Drowning life and your effort to save yourself, Treading water, dancing the dark turmoil, Looking for something to give.
There is no room for the impurities of literature in an essay.... the essay must be pure--pure like water or pure like wine, but pure from dullness, deadness, and deposits of extraneous matter.
The water rose further and dressed Simon's coarse hair with brightness. The line of his cheek silvered and the turn of his shoulder became sculptured marble.
The garden, historically, is the place where all the senses are exploited. Not just the eye, but the ear - with water, with birds. And there is texture, too, in plants you long to touch.
His steeds to water at those springs On chaliced flowers that lies; And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes: With every thing that pretty is, My lady sweet, arise.
It's time to respect the treaties our ancestors signed and care for our land, water, and cultures so that they remain healthy for our future generations.
I think the number one advice I can give is - you just have to start it. Just get your feet in the water and do it. I learned a lot from just trying it out.
I wanted it in the way you sometimes want to jump into very cold water, even though you know it won't feel good. I wanted to go numb. To see what it felt like to be someone else.
I learned that the Holy Water better be fresh, that I need practice throwing the spheres, and that someone has to watch my back so asshats don't steal my demons.
There's something about rushing water that I can watch for hours and feel as if I need to do nothing more. It's alive in a way that's greater than any description of it.
. . . perhaps our grandsons, having never seen a wild river, will never miss the chance to set a canoe in singing waters . . . glad I shall never be young without wild country to be young in.