Quotes About Resemblance

There has not been a day since his sudden and mysterious vanishing that I have not been searching for him, looking in the most unlikely places. Everything and everyone, existence itself, has become an evocation, a possibility for resemblance. Perhaps this is what is meant by that brief and now almost archaic word: elegy

It is from the progeny of this parent cell that we all take our looks we still share genes around, and the resemblance of the enzymes of grasses to those of whales is in fact a family resemblance.

I'm proud of what I look like. I'm proud that I look like my mom.

People say I look like a vampire. I don't know whether to take that as a compliment or not.

Emma could be the offspring of the same father. At

as she peered distrustfully over the rail of my crib, she saw my face—and blood intervened. Desdemona's worried expression hovered above my (similarly) perplexed one. Her mournful eyes gazed down at my (equally) large black orbs. Everything about us was the same. And so she picked me up and I did what grandchildren are supposed to do: I erased the years between us. I gave Desdemona back her original skin.

face and figure from my dad's mother, Grandma Sadie, who was tall

When you work on a character, you form in your mind an image of what he ought to look like. Then you go and find one who resembles him.

In 'Hardflip,' you have a relationship where the father and son haven't seen each other in 18 years, but they find they're very alike: pigheaded, stubborn, passionate. It's a wonderful story of how you can't get away from how similar you and your children are.

Arguments, like children, should be like the subject that begets them.

It was a source of constant disappointment to Catherine Morland that her life did not more closely resemble her books. Or rather, that the books in which she found its likeness were so unexciting.

He looks like an American. In fact, he behaves like one. When he tried to pick up the first kid he knocked down, he smashed into several others, it snowballed, chaos ensued. My brother very much resembled America today in pretty much all things.

All men come to resemble their fathers. That isn't a tragedy, but you need a hell of a sense of humour to handle it.

Though sooner or later all husbands resemble Drenka's Matija, do they not?

It was true Advils looked just like little brown M&M's. Motrin, in the right light, were SweetTarts. A band of MAO inhibitor called Nardil looked just like the tiny round Red Hots we'd all eaten as children.

You look like some cousin of mine." The latter would work only if you were Asian, but even then it's a little creepy, the implication being "the cousin I have always wanted to undress and ejaculate on.

It occurred to me then that my mother was a better actor than I ever hoped to be. Acting is different that posing or pretending. When done with precision, it bears a striking resemblance to lying. Stripped of the costumes and grand gestures, it presents itself as as an unquestionable truth.

I feel like her personality lives through me. How she was and how she acted lives through me. I smile when people say, 'Your mom used to do that; you're thinking just like your mom.'

I think me and Mr. Dolph Lundgren look kind of alike.

I really do not have a favorite amongst Trump surrogates. They all look the same to me. They really all sound eerily alike.

I'm no different than anyone else.

Swathing in this way their natural charms, this costume gave them a vague resemblance to Egyptian hermae; though from these blocks of muslin rose enchanting little heads of tender melancholy. They felt themselves the objects of pity, and inwardly resented it. What woman, however innocent, does not desire to excite envy?

The elder, Mademoiselle Virginie, was the very image of her mother. Madame Guillaume, daughter of the Sieur Chevrel, sat so upright in the stool behind her desk, that more than once she had heard some wag bet that she was a stuffed figure.

The trimness of this head spoiled the resemblance I had remarked in the Count to the wonderful monk described by Lewis after Schedoni in the Confessional of the Black Penitents (The Italian), a superior creation, as it seems to me, to The Monk.