Zitat des Tages über Schlucht / Canyon:
I'll fill those canyons in your soul, like a river lead you home. And I'll walk a step behind, in the shadows so you shine. Just ask, it will be done and I will prove my love, until you're sure that I'm the one.
Just about every weekend when I was growing up, we would throw rods and rifles and tents and shovels and pickaxes into the back of the truck and then head off to the side of a mountain or the bottom of a canyon. Hiking, fishing, hunting, rock-hounding: this is how my parents passed the time.
I limited myself to one shout a day. But I didn't like the sound of my voice. It sounded panicked, it sounded scared. And I knew from experience you can't hear more than 50 yards either way down a canyon.
The wonders of the Grand Canyon cannot be adequately represented in symbols of speech, nor by speech itself. The resources of the graphic art are taxed beyond their powers in attempting to portray its features. Language and illustration combined must fail.
I was raised in Topanga Canyon. It's an eclectic community up in the Santa Monica mountains. A lot of musicians lived there - Joni Mitchell, Neil Young - as well as artists and craftspeople.
In a free market and in the absence of planning, developers will flatten every hillside, fill every canyon, obliterate every endangered species, and pave over every wetland they think they can make a buck on.
Publishing a volume of verse is like dropping a rose petal down the Grand Canyon and waiting for the echo.
My business life takes a big chunk of time, but I still put exercise in my schedule. I'm up at 5 A.M. and get up and stretch and go for a run in Runyon Canyon with all five of my dogs.
I have a trainer, a really nice woman named Nina Greenberg, and she got me a training plan, and we go running in the canyons in Malibu. It's just beautiful up there, absolutely gorgeous. You see bobcats up there sometimes.
Writing a book of poetry is like dropping a rose petal down the Grand Canyon and waiting for the echo.
It's not at all naturally human to see something like the Grand Canyon as beautiful.
Every season has its peaks and valleys. What you have to try to do is eliminate the Grand Canyon.
A city should decide where it doesn't want to develop, saving at least some of the canyons and hillsides and wetlands from the bulldozer's blade.
All through the night, like the tumult of a river when it races between the cliffs of a canyon, in my sleep I could hear the steady roar of the passing army.
I am Hualapai. We are located in Northern Arizona, at the Grand Canyon. We own the Skywalk area.
I was a West Hollywood and Laurel Canyon girl for years, and it was so central that I felt like we'd moved to Portland when we came to Malibu, but now I can't imagine living anywhere else. We have the best of all worlds, hilltop living, 15 minutes from town, with the beach at the bottom of the road.
Those Laurel Canyon days were great. I have a real fondness for that era, 'til about '68. Musically, it was wonderful, and there was this great innocence, an idyllic view of the world. After that, everything got a little... edgy.
There's not a single person in Arizona today who would say the Grand Canyon was a mistake.
Do not let arguments of expediency persuade you. That is the slow road to oblivion. That is the tortured path to undoing step by step, bit by bit, as the river creates a canyon, the way of life that we love.
I don't believe that anyone can see the Grand Canyon area for themselves and not know that we have to do everything we can to protect it for future generations.
If you hear Thelonious Monk play a run that goes from the top of the piano, OK, he has opened up the Grand Canyon with that. He's the river that's carved this entire space that we call the Grand Canyon. He does that with one run. He lets you know, like, what the possibility of the sound of the piano can do.
I think what I would really most like to write about is palm trees and bougainvillea and hummingbirds. I would like to go into the desert and write about salamanders and the Grand Canyon, but history keeps rupturing my experience because politics are everywhere.
I live up Laurel Canyon, and if I want to walk with my son, I have to drive to the park, which is so insane to me.
It's like trying to describe what you feel when you're standing on the rim of the Grand Canyon or remembering your first love or the birth of your child. You have to be there to really know what it's like.
Should you shield the canyons from the windstorms you would never see the true beauty of their carvings.
Baseball, it is said, is only a game. True. And the Grand Canyon is only a hole in Arizona. Not all holes, or games, are created equal.
Maybe you weren't born with a silver spoon in your mouth, but like every American, you carry a deed to 635 million acres of public lands. That's right. Even if you don't own a house or the latest computer on the market, you own Yosemite, Yellowstone, the Grand Canyon, Golden Gate National Recreation Area, and many other natural treasures.
For years, I have been working on crossing the Grand Canyon. Actually, there is nobody who says 'no,' but since this is a project that comes from me and not a commission, I have to find the money, plan the logistics, etcetera.
I was accustomed to being in far, far riskier environments. So I thought going into that canyon was a walk in the park - there were no avalanches, it was a beautiful day and I was essentially just walking.
Seven of my novels take place in the Southwest, in the Four Corners area which has been my home since 1973. I know these mountains, rivers, mesas and canyons well, so it's been natural for me to draw on my own personal experiences here.
Laurel Canyon is kind of grotesque. It's this nature-themed place, and everybody is kind of angry.
Life is supposed to be a series of peaks and valleys. The secret is to keep the valleys from becoming Grand Canyons.
It took five days to drive to Los Angeles by myself. I listened to Abbey Road for six hours at a time and watched the desert open up before me again and again. I saw the sun set and rise at the Grand Canyon, and I sang out over the cliffs, picked up tumble weeds along the way and threw them in the back of my car.
Where I live, there's a lot of canyons. We're climbing constantly - we're like mountain goats. I'm just trying to get better at that.
Climbing K2 or floating the Grand Canyon in an inner tube; there are some things one would rather have done than do.
Am I the only one who can't seem to reconcile the grand canyon of cognitive dissonance I feel when people with much more important jobs than I have manage to score much lengthier times off?
