Stand here by my side and turn, I pray, On the lake below thy gentle eyes; The clouds hang over it, heavy… — William C. Bryant Copy Share Image
Webs are made mostly of spaces. They break easily. They barely exist. They belong to the category of half-things: mist, smoke, shrouds,… — Alice Oswald Copy Share Image
October arrives in a swirl of fragrant blue leaf smoke, the sweetness of slightly frosted MacIntosh apples, and little hard acorns falling.… — Jean Hersey Copy Share Image
The one and only formative power given to man Is thought. By his thinking he not only makes character, but body and… — Anthony Ashley-Cooper, 7th Earl of Shaftesbury Copy Share Image
And so, through all the thick mists of the dim doubts in my mind, divine intuitions now and then shoot, enkindling my… — Herman Melville Copy Share Image
As the end of the century approaches, all our culture is like the culture of flies at the beginning of winter. Having… — Jean Baudrillard Copy Share Image
I certainly don't sit down and plan a book out before I write it. There's a phrase I use called "The Valley… — Terry Pratchett Copy Share Image
The hidden village was something we found when we went to research in China we climbed a mountain in the Sichuan province… — Jennifer Yuh Nelson Copy Share Image
Infinite toil would not enable you to sweep away a mist; but by ascending a little, you may often look over it… — Arthur Helps Copy Share Image
Repeat after me, there are the living and the dead, there are day-folk and night-folk, there are ghouls and mist-walkers, there are… — Neil Gaiman Copy Share Image
Fifty years from now Britain will still be the country of long shadows on county grounds, warm beer, invincible green suburbs, dog… — John Major Copy Share Image
Night doesn't fall in Rome; it rises from the city's heart, from the gloomy little alleys and courtyards where the sun never… — Caroline Llewellyn Copy Share Image
And beyond the timeless meadows and emerald pastures, the rabbit holes and moss-covered oak and rowan trees and the "slippy sloppy" houses… — Susan Branch Copy Share Image
It was cold and windy, scarcely the day to take a walk on that long beach Everything was withdrawn as far as… — Elizabeth Bishop Copy Share Image
Courage~ What makes the flag on the mast to wave? What makes the elephant charge his tusk in the misty mist, or… — L. Frank Baum Copy Share Image
To stand at the edge of the sea, to sense the ebb and flow of the tides, to feel the breath of… — Rachel Carson Copy Share Image
I love to watch the fine mist of the night come on, The windows and the stars illumined, one by one, The… — Charles Baudelaire Copy Share Image
In the far, far future, essentially all matter will have returned to energy. But because of the enormous expansion of space, this… — Brian Greene Copy Share Image
Thus departed Hiawatha, Hiawatha the Beloved, In the glory of the sunset, In the purple mists of evening, To the regions of… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
My curiosity, alas, is not the kind that can be satisfied by objective knowledge. Plato said that opinion is worthless and that… — Hayden Carruth Copy Share Image
It's a funny thing about bogs. You can fill them with rocks and sand and old logs and make a little fenced-in… — Tove Jansson Copy Share Image
Sit back picture yourself swooping up a shell of purple with foam crests of crystal drops soft nigh they fall unto the… — Robert Hunter Copy Share Image
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit… — John Keats Copy Share Image
Didn't you tie the mittens on her feet (Wednesday Evening's) extra special nice? Yes--she is an extra special nice pigeon. She cries… — Carl Sandburg Copy Share Image
Out of the silver heat mirage he ran. The sky burned, and under him the paving was a black mirror reflecting sun-fire.… — James Tabor Copy Share Image
Life has, indeed, many ills, but the mind that views every object in its most cheering aspect, and every doubtful dispensation as… — Lydia Sigourney Copy Share Image
Before the world was made, when it was only darkness and mist and waters, God was well aware of Lake Wobegon, my… — Garrison Keillor Copy Share Image
“Tendrils of mist slithered over the forest floor, around the base of trees. Xander noticed that some of it had climbed the… — Robert Liparulo Copy Share Image
Y is for YGGDRASIL. The legendary Nordic ash tree with its three roots extending into the lands of mortals, giants, and Niflheim,… — Harlan Ellison Copy Share Image
How sad, ye Gods, how sad the world is at evening, how mysterious the mists over the swamps! You will know it… — Mikhail Bulgakov Copy Share Image
Listening to the doves in Alfred, Georgia, and having neither the right nor the permission to enjoy it because in that place… — Toni Morrison Copy Share Image
There is nothing more poetic and terrible than the skyscrapers' battle with the heavens that cover them. Snow, rain, and mist highlight,… — Federico Garcia Lorca Copy Share Image
How innocent were these Trees, that in Mist-green May, blown by a prospering breeze, Stood garlanded and gay; Who now in sundown… — Siegfried Sassoon Copy Share Image
I headed for this white mountain, but was caught in the wind and the mist . . . I followed the cliff… — Louis Bleriot Copy Share Image
We desperately need seers who can see through the mist- Christian leaders with prophetic vision. Unless they come soon it will be… — Aiden Wilson Tozer Copy Share Image
Clambering up the Cold Mountain path, The Cold Mountain trail goes on and on: The long gorge choked with scree and boulders,… — Gary Snyder Copy Share Image
There is an unseen sweetness in the stomach’s emptiness. We are lutes. When the sound box is filled, no music can come… — Rumi Copy Share Image
Sawbeaked epitome of bodiless Idea, tossed by gusts of ether, dive Through abstract mists and raid the sea of fact Eat rich… — Philip Jose Farmer Copy Share Image
Like the ocean is your god-self; It remains for ever undefiled. And like the ether it lifts but the winged. Even like… — Khalil Gibran Copy Share Image
... a gaggle of old ladies is glued to the window at the end of the hall like children or jailbirds. They're… — Sara Gruen Copy Share Image
