Quotes About Contrast

But beneath the populace of pleasure lay the populace of work, grim, grimy, and rather terrible.

She had the ash of disillusion gritting under her teeth. Would the next move turn out the same? Always the shining doorway ahead; and then, upon approach, always the shining doorway was a gate into another ugly yard, dirty and active and dead. Always the crest of the hill gleaming ahead under heaven: and then, from the top of the hill only another sordid valley full of amorphous, squalid activity.

She had scornful grey eyes, a skin like white honey, and a full mouth with a slightly lifted upper lip, that did not know whether it was raised in scorn of all men, or out of eagerness to be kissed.

Because, after all, like so many modern men, he was finished almost before he had begun. And that forced the woman to be active.

Her face was falling loose, but her eyes were calm, and there was something strong in her that made it seem she was not old; merely her wrinkles and loose cheeks were an anachronism.

Himself, he said, was Norman, Miriam was Gothic. She bowed in consent even to that.

Isn't it beautiful? she pleaded. But he only scowled. He would rather have had it ugly just then.

But both had the remote, virgin look of modern girls, sisters of Artemis rather than of Hebe.

The Italians are called Children of the Sun. They might better be called Children of the Shadow. Their souls are dark and nocturnal.

But what do average people do? The exact opposite. If they don't like a thing, they bawl out their subordinates; if they do like it, they say nothing.

To-day the two groups of Negroes, the one in the North, the other in the South, represent these divergent ethical tendencies, the first tending toward radicalism, the other toward hypocritical compromise.

I alight at Esplanade in a smell of roasting coffee and creosote and walk up Royal Street. The lower Quarter is the best part. The ironwork on the balconies sags like rotten lace. Little French cottages hide behind high walls. Through deep sweating carriageways one catches glimpses of courtyards gone to jungle.

As a Bolling in Feliciana Parish, I became accustomed to sitting on the porch in the dark and talking of the size of the universe and the treachery of men; as a Smith on the Gulf Coast I have become accustomed to eating crabs and drinking beer under a hundred and fifty watt bulb - and one is as pleasant a way as the other in passing a summer night.

Joined together, they made a kind of centaur—half bastard, half bitch. Dottie would have laughed out loud at that.

I'd expected her house to have a phosphorescent, lava-light atmosphere, but she had mother-of-pearl Formica and café curtains with pom-poms. A little girl with rashy cheeks and big eyebrows like Nadine's sat in a playpen by the stove, chewing on an empty Saltines box.

chasm between

Women sit or move to and fro, some old, some young, The young are beautiful—but the old are more beautiful than the young

Whitman's poems present no trace of rhyme, save in a couple or so of chance instances. Parts of them, indeed, may be regarded as a warp of prose amid the weft of poetry

The young are beautiful—but the old are more beautiful than the young.

Now I am terrified at the Earth, it is that calm and patient, It grows such sweet things out of such corruptions.

The pleasures of heaven are with me, and the pains of hell are with me.

Beautiful Women Women sit or move to and fro, some old, some young,   The young are beautiful — but the old are more beautiful than the young.

Asszonyok ülnek vagy mennek – egyikÅ'jük öreg, másikuk fiatal, Szépek a fiatalok! de az öregek még szebbek!

What, in the end, makes advertisements superior to criticism? Not what the moving red neon says—but the fiery pool reflecting it in the asphalt.