Quotes About Contrast

The essential advantage for a poet is not to have a beautiful world with which to deal; it is to be able to see beneath both beauty and ugliness; to see the boredom, and the horror, and the glory.

Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing Memory and desire, stirring Dull roots with spring rain. Winter kept us warm, covering Earth in forgetful snow, feeding A little life with dried tubers.

There are evil neighborhoods of noise and evil neighborhoods of silence, and Eeldrop and Appleplex preferred the latter, as being the more evil. It

The moment of the rose and the moment of the yew-tree are of equal duration.

April is the cruelest month - - - - mixing memory and desire - - -

Darkness reminds us of light.

So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.

For the first time in two or three days, I heard the cry of birds—oh well, it was a crow, but even a crow's croaking sounded wonderful. There still was life. There were birds and the breeze. There were clouds in the blue sky. And we could look at them for a moment, hear them again. You have no idea how beautiful the world looks and sounds in the hours after a battle stops!

Pero... ¿Habría amor en un mundo semejante, Simón? ¿Existirían la belleza y el encanto, sin nada feo con que compararlos? ¿Qué sería un mundo sin sorpresas?

Still, it was better than being trampled by teddy bears.

The desert was bad, but nothing could compare with the horrors of a tropical rain forest.

I was becoming addicted to Bombay. There was squalor and poverty, but I had begun to realise my good fortune and would never again forget it.

Two reeds drink from the same stream. One is hollow, the other is sugarcane. —MOROCCAN PROVERB

All that beauty . . . and Daggrepont, ugliness personified, a fat, grotesque pouch of greed, avarice shining in his magnified eyes . . .

Raoul: Age and treachery! Neal: Youth and skill!

She has teeth like stars and hair like sheep fuzz

I loved him, just for a minute. I loved him and I grieved for him and my pity was part of the beauty, before the shame began.

Thinta flew safely, and I realized how much I preferred being with Hergal and feeling the blood drain out of my head with fright. Actually when I'm with Hergal I always realize how I prefer being with Thinta and not feeling the blood drain out of my head with fright.

So Coira grew now, with two distinct sides. The silent, loveless, light side, where everything was clear and plain and harsh. And the shadow side, softer and secretive, kind in its own way, philosophical, and convinced of spirit.

Every sweet thing I see reminds me of some other thing, which is bitter.

He had a hard face, tanned but sallow, wings of black hair beneath a shaved crown, and a collar of swarthy gold set with gems. But his gaze also clung on Cyrion. It like a lover's look. Or the starving lion as it beholds the deer.

The dark mouthed Cyrion. It licked him, rolled him around on its tongue. The lit taper was just a garnish to its palate, it liked the light with Cyrion, as a man might like salt with his meat.

Mercurio's profound graveness tottered on the brink of extreme uncontrolled hilarity.

When Electra stood before her, their likeness and their unlikeness, both, were disconcerting. The black hair, the slender shapely form. Yet hyacinth hair in one, dragon's blood in the other, and the one figure like a flower stem and the other figure like a bone. Their faces were unmatched. The younger, peerlessly beautiful, lowered, unreadable. The older face like a carving, with a snake behind it.