39 Quotes About Canyon

It’s all about perspective... From the top of the canyon, the river looks like a snake and from the bottom of the canyon, it looks like a cascading body of jewel-blue water.

If you have not touched the rocky wall of a canyon. If you have not heard a rushing river pound over cobblestones. If you have not seen a native trout rise in a crystalline pool beneath a shattering riffle, or a golden eagle spread its wings and cover you in shadow. If you have not seen the tree line recede to the top of a bare crested mountain. If you have not looked into a pair of wild eyes and seen your own reflection. Please, for the good of your soul, travel west.

It seemed everything that had ever lived and died in this world had passed through here, had left its indelible imprint.

As dawn leaks into the sky it edits out the stars like excess punctuation marks, deleting asterisks and periods, commas, and semi-colons, leaving only unhinged thoughts rotating and pivoting, and unsecured words.

The Big Dipper wheels on its bowl. In years hence it will have stopped looking like a saucepan and will resemble a sugar scoop as the earth continues to wobble and the dipper’s seven stars speed in different directions.

I sit watching until dusk, hypnotized. I think of the sea as continually sloshing back and forth, repetitive, but my psyche goes with the river- always loping downhill, purposeful, listening only to gravity.

Rim are there horizonswhere there is no horizontalwhere mountains fold space,hold distance up?embedded in a canyonour heads tilt instinctively.here earth meets sky,we can reach it; the rimdoes not shimmer and recede. we lean into diagonal lives,relieved of right angleseyes, arms, hearts drawnupward, vectored to ridgelineskeenly aware of the slantof time, its shape and substance;it is a wedge; it movesalong ray-stroked slopes;we pass into it, are passed over.

I pace the shallow sea, walking the time between, reflecting on the type of fossil I’d like to be. I guess I’d like my bones to be replaced by some vivid chert, a red ulna or radius, or maybe preserved as the track of some lug-soled creature locked in the sandstone- how did it walk, what did it eat, and did it love sunshine?

Canyon touched her shoulder. "Don't give up on Leif so easily. He's a Metcalfe. We know the right road, even if it takes us a while to travel it. And we'll find your daughter, one way or another.