Citizenship in New York is now worth no more than…

There, in the center of that silence was not eternity but the death of time and a loneliness so profound the word itself had…

— Toni Morrison

She gazed toward the marsh that grew thicker, deeper, greener with approaching summer. Mosquitoes whined in there, breeding in the dark water. Alligators slid…

— Nora Roberts

There are few places in England where you can get so much wildness and desolation of sea and sandhills, wood, green marsh and grey…

— William Henry Hudson

And I needed a rock. Something to hold onto, to stand on. Something solid. Because everything was going soft, turning into mush, into marsh,…

— Ursula K. Le Guin

Everyone loves his own country, customs, language, wife, children, not because they are the best in the world, but because they are his established…

— Johann Gottfried Herder

It cannot but affect our philosophy favorably to be reminded of these shoals of migratory fishes, of salmon, shad, alewives, marsh-bankers, and others, which…

— Henry David Thoreau

Believing is a fine thing, but placing those beliefs into execution is a test of strength. Many are those who talk like the roar…

— Khalil Gibran

Science keeps religion from sinking into the valley of crippling irrationalism and paralyzing obscurantism. Religion prevents science from falling into the marsh of obsolete…

— Martin Luther King, Jr

I was glamorous because of magicians like George Folsey, James Wong Howe, Oliver Marsh, Ray June, and all those other great cinematographers. I trusted…

— Myrna Loy

Thus I began my systematic though half-bewildered tour of Innsmouth's narrow, shadow-blighted ways. Crossing the bridge and turning toward the roar of the lower…

— H. P. Lovecraft

It was a spring without voices. On the mornings that had once throbbed with the dawn chorus of robins, catbirds, doves, jays, wrens, and…

— Rachel Carson

As the Arabs say, "The nature of rain is the same, but it makes thorns grow in the marshes and flowers in the gardens.

— Anthony de Mello

One June evening, when the orchards were pink-blossomed again, when the frogs were singing silverly sweet in the marshes about the head of the…

— Anonymous

I read a lot of ghost stories because I was writing a ghost story. I didn't think at all I was writing a horror…

— Susan Hill

From this point forth, we shall be leaving the firm foundation of fact and journeying together through the murky marshes of memory into thickets…

— Anonymous