No poems can please long, nor live, that are written by water drinkers.

What water gives, water takes away.

Far water cannot quench near fire.

I came upon no wine, / So wonderful as thirst.

Iron may break gold, but water remains whole.

I drink for the thirst to come.

Water astonishing and difficult altogether makes a meadow and a stroke.

There is no small pleasure in sweet water.

The waters are nature’s storehouse, in which she locks up her wonders.

All water has a perfect memory and is forever trying to get back to where it was.

He knows the water best who has waded through it.

Till taught by pain, / Men really know not what good water’s worth.

Rain is grace; rain is the sky condescending to the earth; without rain there would be no life.