Quotes About Shadow

Beside them, anyone might as well be a shadow, a blurry reflection of a reflection.

Thus she spoke; and I longed to embrace my dead mother's ghost. Thrice I tried to clasp her image, and thrice it slipped through my hands, like a shadow, like a dream.

I sing, the wild moon wanders the sky. I dance, my shadow goes tumbling about. While we're awake, let us join in carousal; Only sweet drunkenness shall ever part us. Let us pledge a friendship no mortals know, And often hail each other at evening Far across the vast and vaporous space!

A life is a moment in season. A life is one snowfall. A life is one autumn day. A life is the delicate, rapid edge of a closing door's shadow. A life is a brief movement of arms and of legs.

Eliot poem, about the vision and the reality.' '"Between the idea and the reality/Between the motion and the act/Falls the Shadow,

I always think of that Eliot poem, about the vision and the reality. 'Between the idea and the reality / Between the motion and the act / Falls the Shadow,' he says. Listen to your stentorian teacher voice. I do feel like I'm shrinking the Shadow a bit.

I always think of that Eliot poem, about the vision and the reality.' '"Between the idea and the reality/Between the motion and the act/Falls the Shadow,

You seem to think you have a choice," Cam said. "But you have it backwards. Love chooses you. The shadow moves as the sun commands.

It's easy to look at the vampires as a metaphor for any feared or misunderstood group. It's also easy to look at them as a metaphor for a shadow organization that says one thing and has a completely different agenda on their mind, and anybody who gets in their way, they just get rid of them. Does that sound familiar?

I have been sitting watching that ever since I came back, the continuous variations of light and shadow.

She is wearing her black dress. She isn't crying, but she never did cry, anyhow. It's a bright sunny day and she's like a black shadow creeping down the empty street.

a cheerful black shadow reared up behind him as he spoke, thundering a happy challenge to my Dark Passenger, which slid forward and bellowed back.

Talk to me, I whispered to the Dark Passenger. Tell me what you have done.

But the little I did know about Chutsky indicated that he was a member in good standing of the shadow government, the deliberately nonmonitored and unconnected clan of people who worked for various alphabet agencies that were more or less affiliated with the federal government, and sometimes even with one another.

Before I could open my mouth and let out the cranky comeback that was lurking there, a massive foot clomped at the doorway, and a large dark shadow fell over the shreds of my pleasant morning. I looked around, and there, in person, was the end of all happy thoughts. Detective Hood leaned against the doorframe and gave us his very best mean smile. "Looka this," he said. "Wall-to-wall loser.

I remembered my admiration of the heron back in the swamp: so cute and fuzzy, and so very deadly. Was it possible that Crowley was not a bland doofus at all, but was actually another of Nature's great achievements, something like the heron, which looked so tame and pleasant that it got right on top of you and got its beak into you while you were still admiring the plumage? It was possible. And the more I thought about it, the more I thought it was likely, too. Crowley was my Shadow. He

Desdemona oli tottunut näkemään heidän siamilaisvarjonsa iltaisin vasten valkeaksi kalkittua talonseinää, ja aina kohdatessaan vain oman varjonsa hänestä tuntui kuin se olisi halkaistu kahtia.

I moved on and saw an odd building jutting from the castle's main structure. Three-storied and glass-domed, it cast a shadow over half of the garden, marring its beauty. No

Appearance, not reality, is what the clever dog grasps at in these clever days. We spurn the dull-brown solid earth; we build our lives and homes in the fair-seeming rainbow-land of shadow and chimera.

His mind is trying to catch the thought as a cat tries to catch a shadow.

She was elusive. She was today. She was tomorrow. She was the fanciest scent of a cactus flower, the flitting shadow of an elf owl.

She was elusive. She was today. She was tomorrow. She was the faintest scent of a cactus flower, the flitting shadow of an elf owl. We did not know what to make of her. In our minds, we tried to pin her to a cork board like a butterfly, but the pin merely went through and away she flew.

suddenly the sunlight was briefly snipped, as if a page had been turned in front of a lightbulb.

And if a moment exists only in one's perception anyway, then perhaps the rush of feeling he has now is THE MOMENT, and not merely its shadow.