A Quote by Rosita Forbes

The red sands of Marrakesh, sprawling at the foot of the Atlas like a wounded Leviathan. — © Rosita Forbes
The red sands of Marrakesh, sprawling at the foot of the Atlas like a wounded Leviathan.
Looking at the world through the sunset in your eyes, traveling the train through clear Moroccan skies. Ducks and pigs and chickens call, animal carpet wall to wall, American ladies five-foot tall in blue. Sweeping cobwebs from the edges of my mind, had to get away to see what we could find. Hope the days that lie ahead, bring us back to where they've led, listen not to what's been said to you. Wouldn't you know we're riding on the Marrakesh Express? Wouldn't you know we're riding on the Marrakesh Express, they're taking me to Marrakesh. All aboard the train, all aboard the train...
What is Atlas Obscura? So, it was a small digital media company. It's an atlas, it's literally like, an atlas of places, wonderful, unusual places.
Red like blood White like bone Red like solitude White like silence Red like the beastly instinct White like a god's heart Red like thawing hatred White like a frozen, pained cry Red like the night's hungry shadows Like a sigh piercing the moon it shines white and shatters red
It is better not to sit on the grass after thirty when sprawling at all is difficult, let alone sprawling gracefully.
They [granddaughters] went to Disneyland and Alice proudly told Snow White: 'My grandmother is a famous atlas!' So that's nice - they're happy that I'm an atlas!
If I decide to make a coat red in the show, it's not just red, I think: is it communist red? Is it cherry cordial? Is it ruby red? Or is it apple red? Or the big red balloon red?
People always say it's harder to heal a wounded heart than a wounded body. Bullshit. It's exactly the opposite—a wounded body takes much longer to heal. A wounded heart is nothing but ashes of memories. But the body is everything. The body is blood and veins and cells and nerves. A wounded body is when, after leaving a man you’ve lived with for three years, you curl up on your side of the bed as if there’s still somebody beside you. That is a wounded body: a body that feels connected to someone who is no longer there.
He read it for the same reason an animal tears at a wounded foot: to hurt the pain.
The atoms of Democritus And Newton's particles of light Are sands upon the Red Sea shore, Where Israel's tents do shine so bright.
Whether we wound or are wounded, the blood that flows is red.
She stood looking carefully at the labeled portraits Ursala had put up: Little Crow, Chief of the Santees, Geronimo, last of the Apaches, and Ursala's favorite, Big Foot, dying in the snow at Wounded Knee. "Isn't that where the massacre was?" asked Ellen. "Yes. I'm going to go there when I'm grown up. To Wounded Knee." "That seems sensible," said Ellen.
I feel like I have one foot in New York, one foot in London and one foot in India. But it's important to me to invest time with family.
A lot of women don't like when they're sort of fat, but a fat foot is as beautiful as a skinny foot. Think of Greek statues. Look how many people love the foot of the baby! There is something super-charming about the baby foot.
I'm an American, and always will be. I happen to love that big, awkward, sprawling country very much - and its big, awkward, sprawling people.
Who soweth good seed shall surely reap; The year grows rich as it groweth old, And life's latest sands are its sands of gold!
When you stir your rice pudding, Septimus, the spoonful of jam spreads itself round making red trails like the picture of a meteor in my astronomical atlas. But if you stir backwards, the jam will not come together again. Indeed, the pudding does not notice and continues to turn pink just as before. Do you think this is odd?
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