A Quote by Nick Faldo

When it blows here, even the seagulls walk. — © Nick Faldo
When it blows here, even the seagulls walk.

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Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black And the dark street winds and bends. Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow, And watch where the chalk-white arrows go To the place where the sidewalk ends.
We walk, and our religion is shown even to the dullest and most insensitive person in how we walk. Or to put it more accurately, living in this world means choosing, choosing to walk, and the way we choose to walk is infallibly and perfectly expressed in the walk itself. Nothing can disguise it. The walk of an ordinary man and of an enlightened man are as different as that of a snake and a giraffe.
In L.A., I see people who are always in their cars, always driving. I encourage them to walk more - walk to the post office, walk to lunch. Even if it is a 10-minute walk, it's so good for you.
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.
It blows my mind - whenever you're stuck in one place, you think this is how the world is, and then you walk out and see there's so many layers to everything.
I never in my wildest dreams thought I would get even one play at Indiana, let alone 25 years later, walk Bruin Walk, walk UCLA where Coach Wooden built his legacy.
When I see my old mates they will say, 'You're doing well, good on you!' It kind of blows their minds - it blows my mind too!
Eagles are seagulls with a good hairdo.
Seagulls . . . slim yachts of the element.
If you look at an illuminated manuscript, even today, it just blows your mind. For them, without all the clutter and inputs that we have, it must have been even more extraordinary.
I'll walk where my own nature would be leading: It vexes me to choose another guide: Where the grey flocks in ferny glens are feeding; Where the wild wind blows on the mountain-side.
When no wind blows, even the weathervane has character.
I'm a 'what if' person. I have always felt that failure was a completely underrated experience. I have taken blows. I have had high moments. But I don't think the blows have ever hardened me. My enthusiasms are still big.
Where there is a lull of truth, an institution springs up. But the truth blows right on over it, nevertheless, and at length blows it down.
If you're in part of rebel-controlled Syria, and suddenly your house blows up or a building next to you blows up, it would be convenient for rebels to say, 'It was the Americans.'
When the seagulls follow the trawler, it's because they think sardines will be thrown into the sea.
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