The more sand that has escaped from the hourglass of our life, the clearer we should see through it.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
We all have hourglass figures; your sand just settles in different places.
Every so often, we all gaze into the abyss. It's a depressing fact of life that eventually the clock expires; eventually the sand in the hourglass runs out. It's the leaving behind of everything that matters to us that hurts the most.
While it is well enough to leave footprints on the sands of time, it is even more important to make sure they point in a commendable direction.
And when we draw lines in the sand with regard to certain basic things that are vital to our interest and to the interest of democracy and our friends around the world, we have to be willing to back that up.
And all around is the desert; a corner of the mournful kingdom of sand.
Have you ever walked along a shoreline, only to have your footprints washed away? That's what Alzheimer's is like. The waves erase the marks we leave behind, all the sand castles. Some days are better than others.
If you're soft and fuzzy, like our little characters, you become the skinny kid on the beach, and people in this business don't mind kicking sand in your face.
The farther reason looks the greater is the haze in which it loses itself.
The gap between the committed and the indifferent is a Sahara whose faint trails, followed by the mind's eye only, fade out in sand.
On sand, you can never be sure of anything. An ordinary shot can take a wicked deflection at the last moment.