Quotes About Contrast

Death was in the atmosphere. Only the yellow weeds in the meadow were excited by living.

Scattered with poppies, the golden-green waves of the cornfields faded. The red sun seemed to tip one end of a pair of scales below the horizon, and simultaneously to lift an orange moon at the other. Only two days off the full, it rose behind a wood, swiftly losing its flush as it floated up, until the wheat loomed out of the twilight like a metallic and prickly sea.

The uncanny first impression was again one of private hells coexisting in public space.

How could the war have any semblance of reality when you found yourself sitting under a plane tree in a playground, in the provincial calm of an early afternoon?

I weigh more than a mountain but less than a feather.

Not everything is black and white. In fact, almost nothing is.

A peace that blacked yer eye,' I say. 'A peace that split yer lip.' He looks at me for another second and then gives a sad snort. "The words of a sage," he says, "in the voice of a hick.

Her accent's funny, different from mine, different from anyone in Prentisstown's. Her lips make different kinds of outlines for the letters, like they're swooping down on them from above, pushing them into shape, telling them what to say. In Prentisstown, everyone talks like they're sneaking up on their words, ready to club them from behind. Manchee

Rewards, my tender pigpiss.

There ain't nothing good that don't got real bad waiting to follow it.

And there's yer lesson. There ain't nothing good that don't got real bad waiting to follow it.

It was shivery and scant. Scared. Skint. But just around the edges it was still scintillant.

Oh no. He was emberant. Incarnadine. He was bright with better bright beneath, like copper-gilded gold.

Some were bitter. Some were sweet. Some were hardly anything. That was just the way of things.

So we rode in silence. It was nice just being near her. You wouldn't think a girl in bandages with a blackened eye could be beautiful, but Denna was. Lovely as the moon: not flawless, perhaps, but perfect.

You wouldn't think a girl in bandages with a blackened eye could be beautiful, but Denna was. Lovely as the moon: not flawless, perhaps, but perfect.

Then, eyes closed, she brushed the smooth side of it soft across her lips. It was a tender, thoughtful motion. It was nothing like a kiss.

Sí, es como la vida misma- replicó ella-. Nos gustan las cosas dulces, pero necesitamos las amargas.

Her skin was more luminous than the moon, her eyes wider than the sky, deeper than the water, darker than the night.

Nothing makes a man feel older than a young woman.

For all that, she lacked your fire.

Es amarga. —Así sabes que es una medicina —dije—. Si tuviera buen sabor, sería un caramelo. —Sí, es como la vida misma —replicó ella—. Nos gustan las cosas dulces, pero necesitamos las amargas.

She wasn't dressed like a student. She wore an elaborate burgundy dress with long skirts, a tight waist, and matching burgundy gloves that rose all the way to her elbows. Moving deliberately, she managed to get down off the stool without tangling her feet and made her way over to stand nest to my table. Her blond hair was artfully curled, and her lips were a deeply painted red. I couldn't help wondering what she was doing in a place like Anker's.

No. No es lo mismo la verdad que lo que desearíamos que fuera verdad.