Quotes About Brooding

Again there was silence—a silence as of consummated Evil brooding above its unnamable triumph.

Behind everything crouched the brooding, festering horror of the ancient town, and of the mouldy, unhallowed garret gable where he wrote and studied and wrestled with figures and formulae when he was not tossing on the meagre iron bed.

Once more I ventured within those brooding ruins that swelled beneath the sand like an ogre under a coverlet

The incalculable age and brooding horror of this monstrous waste began to oppress me as never before

I'd never seen so many Goths in one place. All dark clothes and brooding faces, like a gathering of small thunderclouds.

Don't you dare try to out-gloom me. I'm the only one here entitled to indulge in deep dark existential brooding.

In hatred as in love, we grow like the thing we brood upon. What we loathe, we graft into our very soul.

Moreover, he was loth to be thus disturbed in his sombre reverie.

On the other hand, if these four-Mr. Graces, the brutish Frank, the mysterious Mr. Liu, and rude little Henry-were the only company John had had for a hundred and sixty-odd years, it explained a lot about his brooding.

Men made life far too difficult when they insisted on neatly categorizing their emotions. When emotions became complicated, they brooded and struggled so mightily in an attempt to simplify them again—when, given time, everything would sort itself out and slide into its place.

I was brooding, boy. Than which there is no richer pastime. It muffles one with rotting plumes. It gives forth sullen music. It is the smell of home.

But that is not to say that there might not be someone in the world - I do not say I have seen him yet - whom I would be a little afraid to look at sometimes - for fear that he might be looking sad - or lost - or thoughtful, or - what, you know, might seem the worst of all - brooding on some private anger or hurt and so not knowing or caring if I looked at him at all.

When people get disillusioned and get insecure and content about the future, they tend to brood about what might have been.

But what ultimately made Yates the scourge of copy editors was his simple aversion to criticism; any emendation in his manuscript, be it a single semicolon, would cause dark alcoholic brooding, which would finally erupt in long, hectoring, semicoherent phone calls.

Only by resolving can a human being step into actuality, however bitter this may be to him. Inertia lacks the will to abandon the inward brooding which allows it to retain everything as as a possibility. But possibility is not yet actuality.

If we're not careful, this archetype of the dark, brooding, broken antihero gets held up on a pedestal for the wrong reasons.

Brooding on murder had turned their brains to milk.

Loneliness will sit over our roofs with brooding wings.

Barrons was powerful, broodingly good-looking, insanely wealthy, frighteningly intelligent, and had exquisite taste, not to mention a hard body that emitted some kind of constant low-level charge. Bottom line: He was the stuff of heroes. And psychotic killers.

It can happen sometimes, with those who brood on an injustice, that a taste for revenge can usefully combine with a sense of obligation.

Brooding's different,' he muttered to the empty chair across from him. 'Could be any subject, for one thing. A subject not at all cynical. Like the meddling of the gods – no, all right, not like that one. Smithing, yes. Horseshoes. Nothing cynical about horseshoes . . . I don't think. Sure. Keeping horses comfortable. So they can gallop into battle and die horribly.' He fell silent. Scowling.

No doubt he was brooding upstairs in their bedroom, or perhaps in his study, wishing to God that he'd had the sense to stay the hell away from her as her father asked of him. God knew there had been a few moments as of late when she'd thought the very same. And then she realized that she would rather be miserable with Grey than content with any other man. How pathetic and deranged was that?

She lay brooding in the dark for hours. Occasionally, she could hear a whoop or laugh from the direction of the campfire. Danielle's breathing got deeper and she slept the sleep of the dead and Gracie wished she'd gotten that snake from Dakota. She'd never hated her father before.

And it didn't help to brood over it herself: the brooding tended to devolve into corrosive anger,