“Mist swirled and spun, like monochrome paints running together on a canvas. Light died in the west, and night came of age.” — Brandon Sanderson Copy Share Image
“It only seems scarey' Klaus said, as if reading his sister's thoughts, 'because of the mist.” — Lemony Snicket Copy Share Image
and i walked for hours the mist growing thick and whole the thought of disappaering like that, so simply, made me so… — Jay Asher Copy Share Image
Live free, child of the mist,- and with respect to knowledge we are allchildren of the mist. — Henry David Thoreau Copy Share Image
I always wear Victoria's Secret Romantic Fragrance Mist. I put it on after the shower, so the smell always makes me feel… — Zara McDermott Copy Share Image
“When the Dragon bent her neck to shift a wing long as a battlefold, an ashen sheen rippled over char-dark scales.” — Elizabeth Bear Copy Share Image
The harvested fields bathed in the autumn mist speak of God and his goodness far more vividly than any human lips. — Albert Schweitzer Copy Share Image
So dull and dark are the November days. The lazy mist high up the evening curled, And now the morn quite hides… — John Clare Copy Share Image
To absent friends, lost loves, old gods, and the season of mists; and may each and every one of us always give… — Neil Gaiman Copy Share Image
God is here, right now, at our side. We can see him in this mist, in the ground we're walking on, even… — Paulo Coelho Copy Share Image
By cultivating an interest in a few good books which contain the result of the toil or the quintessence of the genius… — Thomas Starr King Copy Share Image
And so, perhaps, the truth winds somewhere between the road to Glastonbury, Isle of the Priests, and the road to Avalon, lost… — Marion Zimmer Bradley Copy Share Image
There are things of which I may not speak; There are dreams that cannot die; There are thoughts that make the strong… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
“As the droplets fell harder across his back and shoulders, he could feel his body disappearing bit by bit into the mist.… — Dan Brown Copy Share Image
All day, the colors had been those of dusk, mist moving like a water creature across the great flanks of mountains possessed… — Kiran Desai Copy Share Image
For me, fantasy and speculative science fiction are the genres that feel closest to how I feel about being alive. Like, when… — Brit Marling Copy Share Image
The heart sags. My footprints forget me. I don’t think anything will ever be the same. This is the edge of the… — Richard Jackson Copy Share Image
Looking, touching, material, place and form are all inseparable from the resulting work. It is difficult to say where one stops and… — Andy Goldsworthy Copy Share Image
Grief does not expire like a candle or the beacon on a lighthouse. It simply changes temperature. It becomes a kind of… — Adam Rapp Copy Share Image
Nicholas Benedict did have an exceptional gift for knowing things (more exceptional, in fact, than most adults would have thought possible), and… — Trenton Lee Stewart Copy Share Image
The enthusiast has been compared to a man walking in a fog; everything immediately around him, or in contact with him, appears… — Charles Caleb Colton Copy Share Image
If you give your soul up to anything earthly, whether it be the wealth, or the honours, or the pleasures of this… — Anonymous Copy Share Image
Bloomberg weighed three hundred pounds. This itself was historical. I revered his weight. It was an affirmation of humanity's reckless potential; it… — Don DeLillo Copy Share Image
Much indeed to be regretted, party disputes are now carried to such a length, and truth is so enveloped in mist and… — George Washington Copy Share Image
“So of the Flanders Moss. It, too, in mist seems to roll on for miles; its heathy surface turns to long waves… — R.B. Cunninghame Graham Copy Share Image
Dappled sunlight and looked at the silver vapor swirling inside. "Mist gathered at first light on the first day of the new… — Mary Pope Osborne 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
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
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
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
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
