A Quote by Tanith Lee

Dawn rose from the desert and turned the river to wine. — © Tanith Lee
Dawn rose from the desert and turned the river to wine.
To wake in that desert dawn was like waking in the heart of an opal. ... See the desert on a fine morning and die - if you can!
If global warming meant temperatures rose by one or two degrees, France would become a desert, which would be no bad thing. The Scots would grow wine and make buffalo mozzarella.
To me, desert has the quality of darkness; none of the shapes you see in it are real or permanent. Like night, the desert is boundless, comfortless, and infinite. Like night, it intrigues the mind and leads it to futility. When you have flown halfway across a desert, you experience the desperation of a sleepless man waiting for dawn which only comes when the importance of its coming is lost.
Humans! They lived in a world where the grass continued to be green and the sun rose every day and flowers regularly turned into fruit, and what impressed them? Weeping statues. And wine made out of water! A mere quantum-mechanistic tunnel effect, that'd happen anyway if you were prepared to wait zillions of years. As if the turning of sunlight into wine, by means of vines and grapes and time and enzymes, wasn't a thousand times more impressive and happened all the time.
The rose is a rose, And was always a rose. But the theory now goes That the apple's a rose, And the pear is, and so's The plum, I suppose. The dear only knows What will next prove a rose. You, of course, are a rose - But were always a rose.
Every moment of this strange and lovely life from dawn to dusk, is a miracle. Somewhere, always a rose is opening its petals to the dawn. Somewhere, always, a flower is fading in the dusk.
One rose is enough for the dawn
The desert shall rejoice, and blossom as the rose.
A desert's a stupid place to put a river.
Delta Dawn, what's that flower you have on, could it be a faded rose from days gone by?
Night and day the river flows. If time is the mind of space, the River is the soul of the desert. Brave boatmen come, they go, they die, the voyage flows on forever. We are all canyoneers. We are all passengers on this little mossy ship, this delicate dory sailing round the sun that humans call the earth. Joy, shipmates, joy.
Day-colored wine, night-colored wine, wine with purple feet or wine with topaz blood, wine, starry child of earth.
I've always liked sparkling wine. Rose, too.
My real name is Amanda Rose Saccomanno, so a lot of people don't know that, but Rose is kind of special in my family as my grandma's name is Rosemary, my mom's name is Mary Rose, I'm Amanda Rose, my niece is Demi Rose.
The bad blood rose in me, just like wine.
The rose is a rose, And was always a rose. But the theory now goes That the apple's a rose.
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