Quotes About Depth

All right, then, I thought: here I am in the bottom of a well.

Everybody thinks I'm this delicate little girl. But you can't tell a book by it's cover.' To which she added a momentary smile.

How can those who live in the light of day possibly comprehend the depths of night?

Like a Chinese box, the world of the novel contained smaller worlds, and inside those were yet smaller worlds. Together, these worlds made up a single universe, and the universe waited there in the book to be discovered by the reader.

She was hearing everything that went on in his heart, like a person who can trace a map with his fingertip and conjure up vivid, living scenery.

Everything in life is metaphor.... We accept irony through a device called metaphor. And through that we grow and become deeper human beings. Irony deepens a person, helps them mature. It's the entrance to salvation....

The silence lent a faint weight to the air. As though I were sitting alone, at the bottom of the sea.

The silence is so deep it hurts our ears

But if you peeled away the ornamental egos that she had built, there was only an abyss of nothingness and the intense thirst that came with it.

It was as if - this something I thought of only later, of course - she was gently peeling back one layer after another that covered a person's heart, a very sensual feeling.

No one can know everything about another person. Not even God, probably.

If we reverse the outer shell and the essence--in other words, consider the outer shell the essence and the essence only the shell--our lives might be a whole lot easier to understand.

somewhere, on some subterranean level, her darkness and his may have connected.

There was something strange about her eyes. They were mysteriously lacking in depth. They were lovely eyes, but they did not seem to be looking at anything. They were all surface, like glass eyes. But of course they were not glass eyes. They moved, and their lids blinked.

Defining that special something isn't easy, but when you gazed into her eyes, you could always find it, reflected deep down inside.

It might look simple, but it never is. It's just like a root. What's above ground is only a small part of it. But if you start pulling, it keeps coming and coming. The human mind dwells deep in darkness. Only the person himself knows the real reason, and maybe not even then.

I'm confused. Really confused. And it's a lot deeper than you think. Deeper… darker… colder. But tell me something. How could you have slept with me that time? How could you have done such a thing? Why didn't you just leave me alone?

I was always attracted not by some quantifiable, external beauty, but by something deep down, something absolute. Just as some people have a secret love for rainstorms, earthquakes, or blackouts, I liked that certain undefinable something.

In truly deep darkness, all kinds of strange things were possible.

Strangely transparent, they seemed like windows to a world beyond, but however long I peered into there depths, there was nothing I could see.

Back within those eyes there was a deep world, a world beyond time.

It was nothing but a hole, a mouth open wide. You could lean over the edge and peer down to see nothing. All I knew about the well was its frightening depth. It was deep beyond measuring, and crammed full of darkness, as if all the world's darkness had been boiled down to their ultimate density.

Hell has no true bottom.

We weren't lovers, but in a way we had opened ourselves to each other even more deeply than lovers do.