Quotes About Air

Gradually, the darkness sculpted itself into air and object, the appointments of her room materializing as smoky shapes: a skyline of perfume bottles on her dresser...

The hot stifling room had gone even more stifling, a thickness like the worst days of summer, the air hot and moist under a smothering weight of still leaves that stopped the wind from ever getting through.

Poetry is the journal of the sea animal living on land, wanting to fly the air. –

Dust flew behind me, and I crouched over the handlebars, sucking air through my mask, blinking behind my goggles.

Traveling is a brutality. It forces you to trust strangers and to lose sight of all that familiar comfort of home and friends. You are constantly off balance. Nothing is yours except the essential things: air, sleep, dreams, sea, the sky - all things tending towards the eternal or what we imagine of it.

For God is infinite, Within the body and without, Like a mirror, And the image in a mirror. As the air is everywhere, Flowing around a pot And filling it, So God is everywhere, Filling all things And flowing through them forever.

There was now a distinct manifestation of morning in the air, and presently the bleared white visage of a sunless winter day emerged like a dead-born child.

and she had altogether the air of a woman clipped and pruned by severe discipline, an under–brightness shining through from the depths which that discipline had not yet been able to reach.

But there were certain early days in Casterbridge- days of firmamental exhaustion which followed angry south-westerly tempests-when, if the sun shone, the air was like velvet.

The rain still continued, the candlelight falling upon the nearest drops and making glistening darts of them as they descended across the throng of invisible ones behind. To plunge into that medium was to plunge into water slightly diluted with air.

The very air had screams smeared on it. He flinched from the noise in this silent room.

The very air had screams smeared on it. He flinched from the noise in this silent room full of dark stains drying.

From November 1st, said Hans Frank, it would be possible for the Germans of Cracow to breathe 'good German air', to walk abroad without seeing the streets and lanes 'crawling with Jews'.

Space, like time, engenders forgetfulness; but it does so by setting us bodily free from our surroundings and giving us back our primitive, unattached state ... Time, we say, is Lethe; but change of air is a similar draught, and, if it works less thoroughly, does so more quickly.

Al igual que el tiempo, el espacio trae consigo el olvido; aunque lo hace desprendiendo a la persona humana de sus contingencias para transportarla a un estado de libertad originaria; incluso del pedante y el burgués hace, de un solo golpe, una especie de vagabundo. El tiempo, según dicen, es Lete, el olvido; pero también el aire de la distancia es un bebedizo semejante, y si bien su efecto es menos radical, cierto es que es mucho más rápido.

Time, we say, is Lethe; but change of air is a similar draught, and, if it works less thoroughly, does so more quickly.

He had had to work hard and steadily for his examination, and came home looking rather paler than a man of his blond, rosy type should do. Dr. Heidekind scolded, and insisted on a change of air; a complete change, not a stay at Norderney or Wyk on Föhr—that would not mend matters this time, he said; if they wanted his advice, it was that Hans Castorp should go for a few weeks to the high mountains before he took up his work in the yards.

Oh, this beer here is cold, cold and hop-bitter, no point coming up for air, gulp, till it's all--hahhhh.

Out of air so blue you can take it between your fingers, rug, and bring them back blue, they watch the dot slowly grow into a rusty old reconnaissance plane.

Y ¡Aquel aire! ¿Era el aire siempre así? Unas brisas tenues jugaban a perseguirse: entraban por lo alto de las ventanas y salían por las puertas. Había dos manchas de sol chiquitinas, una sobre el tintero y otra en el marco de plata de una fotografía. Unas manchitas preciosas, sobre todo la de la tapa del tintero. Era muy cálida, una cálida estrellita de plata. Sintió el impulso de besarla.

The warm humid air of New York clung to the night, unwilling to relinquish its suffocating hold. And yet to Eva, the city had an underlying hum of possibility; a constant forward motion that promised, no matter what, that change was on its way.

The dizzy rapture of starving. The power of needing nothing. By force of will I make myself the impossible sprite who lives on air, on water, on purity.

The air's okay," Jake

One need not smoke to inhale. The air in bars holds its load of tars in stale suspension. Also jails. Jails are a prison for the person who abhors smoke. But happily gorgeous thought also hangs around like that: you can walk through a mist of Brodsky and contact- exist.