Mist Unamuno Quotes

How It Seems To Me

In the vast abyss before time, self
is not, and soul commingles
with mist, and rock, and light. In time,
soul brings the misty self to be.
Then slow time hardens self to stone
while ever lightening the soul,
till soul can loose its hold of self
and both are free and can return
to vastness and dissolve in light,
the long light after time. ~ Ursula K. Le Guin

Take your materials from what is around you - if you see a dandelion, write about that; if it's misty, write about the mist. The materials for poetry are all about you in profusion. ~ Masaoka Shiki

The dawn came - not the flaming sky that promises storm, but a golden dawn of infinite promise. The birds came flying up out of the east in wedge-shaped formation, and the mist lifted in soft wreaths of sun-shot silver. Colour came back to the world. The grass glowed with a green so vivid that it seemed pulsing, like flame, from some hidden fire in the earth, the distant woods took on all the amazing deep crimsons and purples of their winter colouring, the banks were studded with their jewels of lichens and bright moss, and above the wet hedges shone with sun-shot orbs of light. ~ Elizabeth Goudge

Nothing existed in the mist but her. There were no sounds, no movement in the air. All was still and quiet. He ran his thumb over her lips. He wanted to call from the rooftops and tell her how much she meant to him, but he could only whisper. "Marry me someday. ~ Sara Butler Zalesky

Hark, I hear a robin calling!
List, the wind is from the south!
And the orchard-bloom is falling
Sweet as kisses on the mouth.
In the dreamy vale of beeches
Fair and faint is woven mist,
And the river's orient reaches
Are the palest amethyst.
Every limpid brook is singing
Of the lure of April days;
Every piney glen is ringing
With the maddest roundelays.
Come and let us seek together
Springtime lore of daffodils,
Giving to the golden weather
Greeting on the sun-warm hills. ~ Lucy Maud Montgomery

Science is a cemetery of dead ideas, even though life may issue from them. ~ Miguel De Unamuno

Science teaches us, in effect, to submit our reason to the truth and to know and judge of things as they are-that is to say, as they themselves choose to be and not as we would have them to be. ~ Miguel De Unamuno

These cables will fail eventually, these stones will fall - but not the dream of crossing the mist, the dream of connection. Now that we know it can happen, it will always be here. ~ Kij Johnson

Use harms and even destroys beauty. The noblest function of an object is to be contemplated. ~ Miguel De Unamuno

She remembers blood.
A fine mist which goes deep into her lungs, over her skin and through the air. She remembers a desert at dusk. The sky indigo blue and the fire bright, so bright that she can see everything. Near the fire, in the night, all she knows is chaos wrapped in crimson. All is death and nightmare with a single solitary dancer who smiles cruelly as he moves. He is power and darkness. He is man and beast, silver coin eyes and that face, those claws and the agony of loss.
Time stretches wide; seconds like vast eons swallow up her world. Vince is dead, his mother, his brother and her small son ripped apart and gushing as he/it moves. She is screaming, a howl of agony beyond words, primal and wordless. Still he moves, faster than air, faster than she could ever be. Blood drips from her face as she grunts, running with her lungs on fire and her last remaining hope wrapped in her arms. ~ Amanda M. Lyons

They were all growing so fast. In just a few short years they would be all young men and women ... youth tiptoe ... expectant ... a-star with its sweet wild dreams ... little ships sailing out of safe harbor to unknown ports. The boys would go away to their life work and the girls ... ah, the mist-veiled forms of beautiful brides might be seen coming down the old stairs at Ingleside. But they would still be hers for a few years yet ... hers to love and guide ... to sing the songs that so many mothers had sung ... Hers ... and Gilbert's. ~ L.M. Montgomery

And at last, in the evening, one after another the sounds die out, and the harmony falters, and silence falls. With the sunset sharpness was lost and, like mist rising, quiet rose, quiet spread, the wind settled; loosely the world shook itself down to sleep, darkly here without a light to it, save what came green suffused through leaves, or pale on the white flowers by the window. [Lily ~ Virginia Woolf

Every moment the patches of green grew bigger and the patches of snow grew smaller. Every moment more and more of the trees shook off their robes of snow. Soon, wherever you looked, instead of white shapes you saw the dark green of firs or the black prickly branches of bare oaks and beeches and elms. Then the mist turned from white to gold and presently cleared away altogether. Shafts of delicious sunlight struck down on to the forest floor and overhead you could see a blue sky between the tree tops.
Soon there were more wonderful things happening. Coming suddenly round a corner into a glade of silver birch trees Edmund saw the ground covered in all directions with little yellow flowers- celandines. The noise of water grew louder. Presently they actually crossed a stream. Beyond it they found snowdrops growing. ~ C.S. Lewis

Furthermore, there's marshland on the other side of these hills. No one can even live near it, because the mist produces ill humors."
"Ill humors?"
"Yes.The entire place is encircled in thick forest, too." She lowered her voice. "They say there are wolves there,the size of humans."
"I like wolves," Dougal said mildly. "The larger, the better."
She blinked.
"They're great sport for hunting. And I am an avid hunter." He glanced across her, lingering at certain areas. "As you may have guessed. ~ Karen Hawkins

Life is like a mist, it appears for a while then vanishes. ~ Lailah Gifty Akita

How beautiful is night! A dewy freshness fills the silent air; No mist obscures, nor cloud, nor speck, nor stain, Breaks the serene of heaven. ~ Robert Southey

Martyrs create faith, faith does not create martyrs. ~ Miguel De Unamuno

Fifty years on from now, Britain will still be the country of long shadows on cricket grounds, warm beer, invincible green suburbs, dog lovers and pools fillers and, as George Orwell said, 'Old maids bicycling to holy communion through the morning mist' and, if we get our way, Shakespeare will still be read even in school. ~ John Major

After applying foundation and a little blush, dust your face with translucent powder, then mist skin with a rosewater spray and lay a Kleenex over for a second. It makes your face seem flawless in a way that looks as if you aren't wearing any makeup. ~ Liv Tyler

Depression feels a bit like that, it creeps in on you and settles, until you think it'll never lift, but in time it always does. That's why it's so tragic if people don't reach out to anyone when they feel low, because if they do, the mist will usually lift in the end. ~ Sita Brahmachari

Champagne's funny stuff. I'm used to whiskey. Whiskey is a slap on the back, and champagne's a heavy mist before my eyes. ~ James Stewart

The morning light pours down through the tall trees onto the open space in front of the cabin, sunbeams everywhere and mist floating like freshly minted souls. ~ Haruki Murakami

some things
happen without
hue and cry
the rustling of leaves
the mist of a dawn

letters

I keep writing

to you. ~ Colin Andersen

I cheat him, I deceive him, yet the world does not sink in sulphur-colored mists. Madness conquers. I can no longer put my mosaics together. I just cry and laugh. ~ Anais Nin

I want to get more familiar with you. I love you. I loved you when you came and sat on the bed--all that second afternoon was like warm mist--and I hear again the way you say my name--with that queer accent of yours. You arouse in me such a mixture of feelings, I don't know how to approach you. Only come to me--get closer and closer to me. It will be beautiful, I promise you. ~ Henry Miller

She began to feel sacred, scared and the voices came and went and her body became brittle, falling, drying, like cold Annihilation, like blue crystal spectrum light, sinking but white. To Nurture, Mist thought, falling cold white crystals, forming, while dying. Returning, falling sky, dying, and finally, on her cold white body, she felt...Snow. ~ J. Jason Graff

Human beliefs, like all other natural growths, elude the barrier of systems. ~ Miguel De Unamuno

Dreams, after all, are insubstantial things, like mist itself. ~ Stephen King

Suddenly pressing both hands on her heart, she fell to the ground, and the mist rose from her and melted in the air. I ran to her. But she began to writhe in such torture that I stood aghast. A moment more and her legs, hurrying from her body, sped away serpents. From her shoulders fled her arms as in terror, serpents also. Then something flew up from her like a bat, and when I looked again, she was gone. ~ George MacDonald

Poem in October"

It was my thirtieth year to heaven
Woke to my hearing from harbour and neighbour wood
And the mussel pooled and the heron
Priested shore
The morning beckon
With water praying and call of seagull and rook
And the knock of sailing boats on the net webbed wall
Myself to set foot
That second
In the still sleeping town and set forth.

My birthday began with the water-
Birds and the birds of the winged trees flying my name
Above the farms and the white horses
And I rose
In rainy autumn
And walked abroad in a shower of all my days.
High tide and the heron dived when I took the road
Over the border
And the gates
Of the town closed as the town awoke.

A springful of larks in a rolling
Cloud and the roadside bushes brimming with whistling
Blackbirds and the sun of October
Summery
On the hill's shoulder,
Here were fond climates and sweet singers suddenly
Come in the morning where I wandered and listened
To the rain wringing
Wind blow cold
In the wood faraway under me.

Pale rain over the dwindling harbour
And over the sea wet church the size of a snail
With its horns through mist and the castle
Brown as owls
But all the gardens
Of spring and summer were blooming in the tall tales
Beyond the border and under the lark full cloud.
There could ~ Dylan Thomas

Behold how this drop of seawater
has taken so many forms and names;
it has existed as mist, cloud, rain, dew, and mud,
then plant, animal, and Perfect man;
and yet it was a drop of water
from which these things appeared.
Even so this universe of reason, soul, heavens, and bodies,
was but a drop of water in its beginning and ending.

...When a wave strikes it, the world vanishes;
and when the appointed time comes to heaven and stars,
their being is lost in not being. ~ Mahmud Shabistari

There had always been something rather brutal about (..._) common sense. ~ Hope Mirrlees