Famous Quotes About Fog And Mist
Browse 27 famous quotes and sayings about Fog And Mist.
Top Quotes About Fog And Mist
1. "Qadir waded out of the water next, the chestnut mare calm under his touch, and Silus raised a disgusted eyebrow.‘There's no justice. Not only the best horseman I've met in this whole bloody country, but his bloody manhood's still dragging in the water.'The Hamian shook his head and hooked a thumb over his shoulder. ‘If you want to be truly scared, take a look at that. Why do you think I was swimming so quickly?'Both the officers looked past him, to see the impressive shape of Arminius as he waded out of the river. Silus shook his head slowly. ‘Gods below …'The German smiled complacently as he walked past them, and Silus pointed out into the fog still wreathing the riverbank. ‘Get your sword out, bugger off into the mist and get that thing covered up."
Author: Anthony Riches
2. "Life was a pleasure; he looked back at its moments, many of them as much shrouded in mist as the opposite bank of the Thames; objectively, many of them held only misery, fear, confusion; but afterwards, and even at the time, he had known an exhilaration stronger than the misery, fear, or confusion. A fragment of belief came to him from another epoch: 'Cogito ergo sum'. For him that had not been true; his truth had been, 'Senito ergo sum'. I feel so I exist. He enjoyed this fearful, miserable, confused life, and not only because it made more sense than non-life."
Author: Brian W. Aldiss
3. "If there is a God, you are, in a sense, alone with I Him. You cannot put Him off with speculations about your next door neighbours or memories of what you have read in books. What will all that chatter and hearsay count (will you even be able to remember it?) when the anaesthetic fog which we call ‘nature' or ‘the real world' fades away and the Presence in which you have always stood becomes palpable, immediate, and unavoidable?"
Author: C.S. Lewis
4. "Cambodian dust whipped up in the wind and stuck to my clothes like clay. I put a hand between my face and the sun and blinked Phnom Penn dust from my tired eyes. One idea, drink, beamed light in all directions across my dark consciousness.A slim lady walked toward me with a big smile and a bigger head. Her left hand rested on her waggling hips and her right hand rose above her head, limp-wristed, like she'd just thrown a winning ball toward a basket and was leaving her hand in the shot position. The lady walking toward me was a man. At least that much was clear, but the nature or our relationship was still a fog to me. She wore blue jeans and a white top accentuating her breasts, but her Adam's apple and cow sized hands revealed more in daylight than she could hide at night."
Author: Craig Stone
5. "Lord Peter's library was one of the most delightful bachelor rooms in London. Its scheme was black and primrose; its walls were lined with rare editions, and its chairs and Chesterfield sofa suggested the embraces of the houris. In one corner stood a black baby grand, a wood fire leaped on a wide old-fashioned hearth, and the Sèvres vases on the chimneypiece were filled with ruddy and gold chrysanthemums. To the eyes of the young man who was ushered in from the raw November fog it seemed not only rare and unattainable, but friendly and familiar, like a colourful and gilded paradise in a mediæval painting"
Author: Dorothy L. Sayers
6. "High PastureCome up--come up: in the dim vale belowThe autumn mist muffles the fading trees,But on this keen hill-pasture, though the breezeHas stretched the thwart boughs bare to meet the snow,Night is not, autumn is not--but the flowOf vast, ethereal and irradiate seas,Poured from the far world's flaming boundariesIn waxing tides of unimagined glow.And to that height illumined of the mindhe calls us still by the familiar way,Leaving the sodden tracks of life behind,Befogged in failure, chilled with love's decay--Showing us, as the night-mists upward wind,How on the heights is day and still more day."
Author: Edith Wharton
7. "Our minds, as well as our bodies, have need of the out-of-doors. Our spirits, too, need simple things, elemental things, the sun and the wind and the rain, moonlight and starlight, sunrise and mist and mossy forest trails, the perfumes of dawn and the smell of fresh-turned earth and the ancient music of wind among the trees."
Author: Edwin Way Teale
8. "I can look back and see that I've spent much of my life in a cloud of things that have tended to push "being kind" to the periphery. Things like: Anxiety. Fear. Insecurity. Ambition. The mistaken belief that enough accomplishment will rid me of all that anxiety, fear, insecurity, and ambition. The belief that if I can only accrue enough—enough accomplishment, money, fame—my neuroses will disappear. I've been in this fog certainly since, at least, my own graduation day. Over the years I've felt: Kindness, sure—but first let me finish this semester, this degree, this book; let me succeed at this job, and afford this house, and raise these kids, and then, finally, when all is accomplished, I'll get started on the kindness. Except it never all gets accomplished. It's a cycle that can go on … well, forever."
Author: George Saunders
9. "As the shabby section of the audience rose to its feet, waving its hats and food-wrappers, a rich, stale smell wafted through the auditorium. It had something of the fog on the boulevard outside, where the pavements were sticky with rain, but also something more intimate : it suggested old stew and course tobacco, the coat racks and bookshelves of a pawnshop, and damp straw mattresses impregnated with urine and patchouli. It was - as though the set designer had intended some ironical epilogue - the smell of the real Latin Quarter."
Author: Graham Robb
10. "Who in the world has not yearned for a loved one, has never said, If only he or she could come back just once, just one more time...? Despite the fact that it can never happen, never ever. Surely this is the saddest thing about our mortal world, and its sadness will go on shrouding human life like a blanket of fog until its final extinction."
Author: Ismail Kadaré
11. "Our young people think about nothing more than love affairs and pleasure. They spend more time attempting to seduce and dishonor young women than in thinking about their country's welfare. Our women, in order to take care of the house and family of God, forget their own. Our men limit their activities to vice and their heroics to shameful acts. Children wake up in a fog of routine, adolescents live out their best years without ideals, and their elders are sterile, and only serve to corrupt our young people by their example."
Author: José Rizal
12. "Russ decided the best defense was a good offense. "I'm Russell Van Alstyne, Millers Kill chrief of police." He held out his hand. She shook firm, like a guy."Clare Fergusson," she said. "I'm the new priest at Saint Alban's. That's the Episcopal Church. At the corner of Elm and Church." there was a faint testiness in her voice. Russ relaxed a fraction. A woman priest. If that didn't beat all."I know which it is. There are only four churches in town." He saw the fog creeping along the edges of his glasses again and snatched them off, fishing for a tissue in his pocket. "Can you tell me what happened, um..." What was he supposed to call her? "Mother?""I go by Reverend, Chief. Ms. is fine, too.""Oh. Sorry. I never met a woman priest before.""We're just like the men priests, except we're willing to pull over and ask directions."
Author: Julia Spencer Fleming
13. "I alone know of where my heart belongs a land not found on map or chart - it is a place of water and stone, of mist and metaphor, of shadows and music that wafts hauntingly across the wetlandsit is a place cast in deep tones of cloud, and granite, and ancient pottery shards the color of a storm-tossed sea"
Author: Kate Mullane Robertson
14. "Do you ever feel that way?""Lonely?"I search for the words. "Restless.As if you haven't really met yourself yet. As if you'd passed yourself once in the fog and your heart leapt-'Ah! There I am!I've been missing that piece!' But it happens too fast and then that part of you disappears into the fog again. And you spend the rest of your days looking for it."He nods and I think he's appeasing me. I feel stupid of having said that. It's sentimental and true and I've revealed a part of myself I shouldn't have."Do you know what I think?" he says at last."What?""Sometimes, I think you can glimpse it in another."
Author: Libba Bray
15. "Fog lifts in the valley, rising as mist through the bare-limbed trees. Far below lies the deeping combe with our village in the heart of it.My whole world for nearly a decade has been contained in that place—and now the village of Duns looks so small. I hold up my hand, form a circle with my fingers. The distant village, wreathed in mist, seems a child's plaything that I can hold in my own hand."
Author: Ned Hayes
16. "The mist starts to form as we stand close to one another. It is a distant fog that rises from the horizon, and I find that I grow fearful as it approaches. It slowly creeps in, enveloping the world around us, fencing us in as if to prevent escape. Like a rolling cloud, it blankets everything, closing, until there is nothing left but the two of us."
Author: Nicholas Sparks
17. "The sense of the missing member of the party was a fog low over the patio, changing the look and feel of everything."
Author: Nichole Bernier
18. "Sitting there on the heather, on our planetary grain, I shrank from the abysses that opened up on every side, and in the future. The silent darkness, the featureless unknown, were more dread than all the terrors that imagination had mustered. Peering, the mind could see nothing sure, nothing in all human experience to be grasped as certain, except uncertainty itself; nothing but obscurity gendered by a thick haze of theories. Man's science was a mere mist of numbers; his philosophy but a fog of words. His very perception of this rocky grain and all its wonders was but a shifting and a lying apparition. Even oneself, that seeming-central fact, was a mere phantom, so deceptive, that the most honest of men must question his own honesty, so insubstantial that he must even doubt his very existence."
Author: Olaf Stapledon
19. "..."I could see tongues of dense fog licking over the ridge in the distance, where this world ended and the next one began, cold, damp, and sunless."
Author: Ransom Riggs
20. "Annabeth turned the blade of her drakon-bone sword, which Percy had to admit made her look pretty intimidating and hot in a "Barbarian Princess" kind of way. "So I guess your Death Mist is pretty useless, then," she said. The goddess bared her broken"
Author: Rick Riordan
21. "A thin grey fog hung over the city, and the streets were very cold; for summer was in England."
Author: Rudyard Kipling
22. "Outside, the city is changing. While we have been talking of God's laws and seacrets of the earth, a cold fog has come rolling off the sea, pushing through the allys, sliding over the water, rubbing up agienst the cold stone. As I walk the street falls away behind me, the shop's blue awning lost within seconds. People move like ghosts, their voices disconnected from their bodies; as fast as they loom up they dissapear agien. The fog is so dense that by the time I have crossed toward the Merceria, I can barely see the ground under my feet or tell if the gloom is weather of the beginning of dusk."
Author: Sarah Dunant
23. "They would set their course toward it, seeing it grow bigger silently and imperceptibly, a motionless growth--and then, when they were at it, when they were about to bang their noses with a shock against its seeming solid mass, the sun would dim. Wraiths of mist suddenly moving like serpents of the air would coil about them for a second. Grey damp would be around them, and the sun, a copper penny, would fade away. The wings next to their own wings would shade into vacancy, until each bird was a lonely sound in cold annihilation, a presence after uncreation. And there they would hang in chartless nothing, seemingly without speed or left or right or top or bottom, until as suddenly as ever the copper penny glowed and the serpents writhed."
Author: T.H. White
24. "He watched her for her reaction, or possibly watched her just to watch, his eyes hooded by his lashes and his mouth impassive. A faceless man—such as the one she had dreamed of since she was a child—his identity not obscured by mist or flying sand or swirling dust, but by a mask he readily employed whenever he wished. As a shutter closed against a gale. Closed against her, no matter the impact of his words. He seemed to speak them against his will, just as he seemed to care for her against his will."
Author: V.S. Carnes
25. "There was nobody. Her words faded. So a rocket fades. Its sparks, having grazed their way into the night, surrender to it, dark descends, pours over the outlines of houses and towers; bleak hillsides soften and fall in. But though they are gone, the night is full of them; robbed of colour, blank of windows, they exist more ponderously, give out what the frank daylight fails to transmit—the trouble and suspense of things conglomerated there in the darkness; huddled together in the darkness; reft of the relief which dawn brings when, washing the walls white and grey, spotting each windowpane, lifting the mist from the fields, showing the red brown cows peacefully grazing, all is once more decked out to the eye; exists again. I am alone; I am alone!"
Author: Virginia Woolf
26. "Freedom! That was the thought that sung in her heart so that even though the future was so dim, it was iridescent like the mist over the river where the morning sun fell upon it. Freedom! Not only freedom from a bond that irked, and a companionship which depressed her; freedom, not only from the death which had threatened, but freedom from the love that had degraded her; freedom from all spiritual ties, the freedom of a disembodied spirit, and with freedom, courage , and a valiant unconcern for whatever was to come."
Author: W. Somerset Maugham
27. "Am I in earth, in heaven, or in hell?Sleeping or waking, mad or well-advised?Known unto these, and to myself disguised?I'll say as they say, and persever so,And in this mist at all adventures go."
Author: William Shakespeare
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