Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Mounds. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Mounds Quotes And Sayings by 96 Authors including George Mackay,Nelson Mandela,Ben H. Winters,Warren W. Wiersbe,Edgar Allan Poe for you to enjoy and share.
Hills tell old stories. Cliffs are poets with harps
After climbing a great hill, one only finds that there are many more hills to climb.
Lip. I have a sudden vivid picture of the earth as flat, a tray, covered in marbles, and someone is tilting it, and the marbles are rolling, cascading, from east to west.
The bumps are what you climb on.
I have graven it within the hills, and my vengeance upon the dust within the rock.
Up from the meadows rich with corn, Clear in the cool September morn
I wondered what I thought I was burying.
Oh, sons of earth! attempt ye still to rise. By mountains pil'd on mountains to the skies? Heav'n still with laughter the vain toil surveys, And buries madmen in the heaps they raise.
We go, in winter's biting wind, On many a short-lived winter day, With aching back but willing mind To dig and double dig the clay.
I've come down from the mountains, with an ass-full of specimens...
triangle of my mons,
The fullest and best ears of corn hang lowest toward the ground.
Big trees grow from sprouts, tall buildings rise from mounds of earth; the loftiest heights start at your feet.
Grass grows at last above all graves.
Bumps are the things we climb on.
What are men to rocks and mountains?
We'll make a bunker hill of it.
There are dark, hard, cherty silt-stones from some deep ocean trench full of rapidly accumulating Pennsylvanian guck.
What you try to bury just ends up burying you.
run up the hillside, flanked by closely clustered two-story
The grain-fields went up the hillsides. Now as we went higher there was a wind blowing the grain.
Looks like a sand pile my kids have been playing in for a long time - it's all beat up - no definition - just a lot of bumps and holes.
Lines and angles, flat and bland,
raise these volumes and make them stand.
In our spring-time every day has its hidden growths in the mind, as it has in the earth when the little folded blades are getting ready to pierce the ground.
Farms on the lower slopes of the mountain. As the eye moved from
Park hill staten island seal, rock the reel to reel we high hills deep
People eat the shit you shovel them.
I had gained the summit of a commanding ridge, and, looking round with astonishing delight, beheld the ample plains, the beauteous tracts below.
Shallow brooks murmur most, deep and silent slide away.
There will grow from straws a mighty heap.
Oblong stones sink
slow and sideways. Shaped
by the weight of waves,
dutifully vibrating nature's
lunar-bound graces,
they wash ashore only for
closed palms to forsake them.
The cheerful will
cherish them, place them
on windowsills, or on graves.
A prettiness mummified by years of chalk dust.
Hills are speedwork in disguise.
Now, go shovel some shit.
If the hill will not come to Mahomet, Mahomet will go to the hill.
Upon the highest ridge of that round hill covered with planted oaks, the shafts of the trees show in the light like the columns of a ruin.
preferably left buried in
One who can move mountains start with the little stones.
The heights charm us, but the steps do not; with the mountain in our view we love to walk the plains.
the large buckets about the
Throw your hands and pull up those in the valley to the hill. However, press your feet on the ground so hard that you don't fall into the same valley together. Some people's helping hands became their grave digging tools!
Then came the digging. Oh God, the digging.
Neat little rectangular arrangements of suffering. His
Something had been buried that was not yet dead.
Hills. We love them. We hate them. They make us strong. They make us weak. Today I
chose to embrace hills.
Hobbiton, a low but somehow cozy tunnel with rounded earthen sides
The longest hill must end in a valley.
In a fleshy tomb I am buried above ground.
Got more dirt than ball. Here we go again.
Oakmont, you've got to be playing slope.
Hill. Yes, that was it. But it is a hasty word for a thing that has stood here ever since this part of the world was shaped.
Wherever we go in the mountains, we find more than we seek.
Trust me, there are things in this mountain that will make your jaw bounce off the floor.
A caldera, it's called - a sort of mountain in reverse. A mountain that's had its very heart removed.
So down thy hill, romantic Ashbourn, glides The Derby dilly, carrying three INSIDES.
If the hill has its own name, then it's probably a pretty tough hill.
At Jaffa in Syria and among the Nomads in Arabia , are lakes of enormous size that yield very large masses of asphalt, which are carried off by the inhabitants thereabouts.
lying on "mattress graves.
We are anthill men upon an anthill world.
Nothing puts things in perspective as quickly as a mountain.
Every hill becomes a mountain when one has to climb up it.
Hey. Please. This is not the Midwest. All right? Michigan is the Midwest, God knows why. This is the Plains: a state of mind, right, some spiritual affliction, like the Blues.
I'll bridge these hills with graceful arches
The hills are reared, the seas are scooped in vain If learning's altar vanish from the plain.
When you are bored of the plains, the secret passages to the mountains suddenly appear out of nowhere before you!
a handful of crumpled stars
I can stick uphill ice, on my saucer
We can only climb the mountains because there's a valley that makes the mountain a mountain.
There are mountains hidden in mountains. There are mountains hidden in hiddenness. This is complete understanding.
Doctors bury their mistakes, Architects cover them with ivy
You ask of my companions. Hills, sir, and the sundown, and a dog as large as myself.
O'er the rugged mountain's brow Clara threw the twins she nursed, And remarked,'I wonder now Which will reach the bottom first?
the wildflowers said what burial.
They were obviously headstones of graves, though the graves themselves no longer existed as either mounds or depressions; the years had leveled all. Scattered here and there, more massive blocks showed where some pompous or ambitious monument had once flung its feeble defiance at oblivion.
Oh gods, stairs.
I watch the ashes swim around like dandelion puffs, making swirls where bodies and walls once stood.
Growing is a lifetime job, and we grow most when we're down in the valleys, where the fertilizer is.
You can not keep shit buried.
What has roots as nobody sees,
Is taller than trees,
Up, up it goes,
And yet never grows?
(Answer: a mountain)
Priceless diamonds often shape in worthless dirt.
row of stitches.
Mountains draw you to a deeper place in yourself
He screamed. Mmm?' inquired the gentleman. I ... I would never presume to interrupt you, sir. But the ground appears to be swallowing me up.' It is a bog,' said the gentleman, helpfully. It is certainly a most terrifying substance.
Whack 'em, stack 'em and pack 'em.
Learn to deal with the valleys and the hills will take care of themselves.
The top of one mountain is the bottom of the next.
The trees seemed to clothe the hill,
What are those humps on her chest?
Within that awful volume lies The mystery of mysteries!
A bulger of a place it is. The number of the ships beat me all hollow, and looked for all the world like a big clearing in the West, with the dead trees all standing.
As high as Heaven, as deep as Hell.
Rolling torture wagons for nature's most dignified creature.
The mown grass is growing again nearly to our knees; we will take a second crop of hay from this field, rich and green and starred with moon daisies, buttercups and the bright, blowsy heads of poppies.
How massively the mountains stand, while low to the ground the sand blows. The sand blows on and on. And then there are no mountains, none at all, the sand has kissed and whispered them away. And still, the sand blows on.
Clouds on clouds, in volumes driven, curtain round the vault of heaven.
War did not just level, it plowed the field, raising the muck and sinking the stubble.
Hope you two boys can dig. There'll be some digging to do." "Graves?" Eddie asked, not sure if he was joking or not. "Graves come later." Roland looked up at the sky, but the clouds had advanced out of the west and stolen the stars. "Just remember, it's the winners who dig them.
Standing on an open hill, I imagine muffled footsteps overhead.
Once you get over the first hill, there is always a new, higher one lurking, of course.
You have to start somewhere,' he said. 'You climb the top of the first tiny hill and from there you see the next hill.