His words are nothing more than mist and sunshine, impossible to hold down. — Erin Hunter Copy Share Image
The purity men love is like the mists which envelope the earth, and not like the azure ether beyond. — Henry David Thoreau Copy Share Image
We live in an age when there is a false glare on the things of time and a great mist over the… — Anonymous Copy Share Image
The English mist is always at work like a subtle painter, and London is a vast canvas prepared for the mist to… — Arthur Symons Copy Share Image
“Trees quiver in the wind, sailing on a sea of mist out of earshot.” — Dag Hammarskjöld Copy Share Image
The electron, as it leaves the atom, crystallises out of Schrödinger's mist like a genie emerging from his bottle. — Arthur Eddington Copy Share Image
We twain have met like the ships upon the sea, Who behold an hour's converse, so short, so sweet: One little hour!… — Alexander Smith Copy Share Image
There are times of great beauty on a coffee farm. When the plantation flowered in the beginning of the rains, it was… — Isak Dinesen Copy Share Image
My California sunrise, there's a real mist in the air. I think of the mountains. You can smell the farm fields. You… — Jon Pardi Copy Share Image
“Outside the plate glass the world in the mist had become a pencil drawing executed in a dozen different grays with, here… — Neil Gaiman Copy Share Image
At length corruption, like a general flood (So long by watchful ministers withstood), Shall deluge all; and avarice, creeping on, Spread like… — Alexander Pope Copy Share Image
It was in a mist the Tuatha de Danaan, the people of the gods of Dana, or as some called them, the… — Lady Gregory Copy Share Image
We plant our roots in trembling earth, we live where mountains rose and fell and prehistoric seas burned away in mist. We… — Robert R. McCammon Copy Share Image
The present is haunted by the X-present. I call this manifold of present and X-present 'nowness': a shifting, haunted region like evaporating… — Timothy Morton Copy Share Image
Danse Russe If I when my wife is sleeping and the baby and Kathleen are sleeping and the sun is a flame-white… — William Carlos Williams Copy Share Image
the way with Ireland is that no sooner do you get away from her than the golden mists begin to close about… — Katharine Tynan Copy Share Image
Thick February mists cling heavily To the dead earth and to each leafless tree, And closer down upon the hilltops draw, Dull… — Emma Lazarus Copy Share Image
Time is the guy at the amusement park who paints shirts with an airbrush. He sprays out the color in a fine… — Ian Caldwell Copy Share Image
History knocks at a thousand gates at every moment, and the gatekeeper is chance. We shout into the mist for this one… — Alexander Herzen Copy Share Image
Years after I'd seen him for the last time I found myself thinking of him unexpectedly and often. You know how certain… — Don DeLillo Copy Share Image
“Suicide is what everyone young thinks they'll do before they get old. But they hardly ever get round to it. They just… — Martin Amis Copy Share Image
It was on the first day of Beltaine, that is called now May Day, the Tuatha de Danaan came, and it was… — Lady Gregory Copy Share Image
Every human being lived behind an impenetrable wall of choking mist within which no other but he existed. Occasionally there were the… — Isaac Asimov Copy Share Image
Oxford, in those days, was still a city of aquatint. In her spacious and quiet streets men walked and spoke as they… — Evelyn Waugh Copy Share Image
Looking back through the mists of time, I recall some distinctly religious experiences in my teens--when I was only fourteen years old… — Andrew Linzey Copy Share Image
Day was breaking at Plashwater Weir Mill Lock. Stars were yet visible, but there was dull light in the east that was… — Charles Dickens Copy Share Image
How can you buy or sell the sky, the warmth of the land? The idea is strange to us. If we do… — Chief Seattle Copy Share Image
Suddenly she felt strong and happy. She was not afraid of the darkness or the fog and she knew with a singing… — Margaret Mitchell Copy Share Image
She was still under the spell of her infatuation. She had tried to forget him, realizing the inutility of remembering. But the… — Kate Chopin Copy Share Image
The dawn came - not the flaming sky that promises storm, but a golden dawn of infinite promise. The birds came flying… — Elizabeth Goudge Copy Share Image
