Quotes About Mist

And Master Nathaniel's pleached alley was growing yellower and yellower, and on the days when a thick white mist came rolling up from the Dapple it would be the only object in his garden that was not blurred and dimmed, and would look like a pair of gigantic golden compasses with which a demiurge is measuring chaos.

Where did the dress come from?" he asked, his breath a puff of white mist in the air. "Lady Raiford." "Of course," he said sardonically. "It looks like something she would wear." He glanced into the open neck of the cloak, where the shadow of her cleavage was visible. His thumb moved high on her breast, lingering at the edge where velvet ended and soft skin began. "Except you fill it out differently.

At five in the morning the Loire is still and sumptuous with mist. The water is beautiful at that time of the day, cool and magically pale, the sandbanks rising like lost continents. The water smells of night, and here and there a spray of new sunlight makes mica shadows on the surface.

This was the problem with a walk down memory lane. It was almost always foggy, and one was likely to trip and fall.

The Christmas bells from hill to hill Answer each other in the mist.

eerie in a way it is nowhere else in the world, the flats receding and the low hills rising as if they are just fields of mist and walls of fog, illusions of shapes and dimensions, reflections of reflections, and those reflections only reflections of a dream.

She sat watching the street and its businesses melt away in the thick tides of mist, partially re-form, and melt away again, over and over, as if some celestial power had ordered the end of the world but kept having second thoughts.

The undulant road winds across hills, down into hollows where mist slithers through the darkness like a procession of spirits proceeding toward their fate. The mountains, worn low by millennia of weather, offer no steep palisades, only rolling slopes that suggest that the landscape was inspired by the female form.

Sloth kept him in bed awhile. Restlessness drove him downstairs to the tiny court behind his kitchen, where the sun made more mist. Under its warmth everything gave off ghosts. They work from the bricks, rose with a deep reluctance, disappeared.

I am a Highlander," Jamie said bleakly. He glanced once more at the far bank, where occasional glimpses of tartan showed through the mist, and then back. The shouting echoed from the fog. "And I am the sire of Americans.

She came to the ranch on one of the first pale chilly days of an autumn, hired to cook for us for a few months, and stayed on in our lives for almost three years. Her time with us is a strange season all mist and dusk and half-seen silhouettes, half-heard cries. there is nothing like it in the sortings of my memory.

Racism is a phenomenal thing; it is like a thick mist that obscures the vision and judgement of even great minds.

I jump to my feet in this dream within a dream. Although I am quite dry, I discover that the trees of the forest in which I have slept stand rooted in water. Beyond them, at the forest's edge, stretches a tarn. From the steely face of the tarn rises a mist, and there, where the mist swirls thickest, shimmering like a pale column risen from its depths, dripping tarn water and rotted rose petals, stands Gunther.

Flash fire." She turned her head as far as she could, trying to look at him. "I don't know what that means." He shifted on the branch. "First time I was on a submarine, we had a flash fire. It's a combustion explosion. A flammable mist builds up in the air, then suddenly, bam. Think super high temperatures and a rapidly moving flame front. It kills by asphyxiation. Burns up all the available oxygen. It's devastating.

Create a fog within a fog

It were the sort of mist that soaked into your flesh, into your being, so it were like you were one with it...

It is the place and time for dark deeds, for the heart grows savage; and if two enemies met in the hollow of the mist only one would go away.

Mist lies over the river like the icy breath of winter angels. Darkness gathers round... and it is beautiful.Thank you for this life, this death, whatever it is you arethat makes us finally see.

This carpet," said Abdullah, "unlike you, is of an ensorcellment so pure and excellent that it will listen only to the finest of language. It is at heart a poet among carpets." A certain smugness spread through the pile of the carpet. It held its tattered edges proudly straight and sailed sweetly forward into the golden sunlight above the mist.

By the time the words from the bank reached her, the thick white river mist had rinsed the urgency out of them. The words drifted into her ear, washed out and waterlogged, and sounded scarcely louder than the thoughts in her own head.

There was nothing to see; the mist that hung in the air made everything invisible that was more than a short distance away.

just want to take some photographs. I don't think the weather is on my side, though." "You'll get to see it properly within the hour. This mist won't last long.

The mist was almost gone. The magical shapes of the topiary had lost their charm and looked like the unkempt bushes and hedges they were.

A mist is rolling over the fields. Why is a summer mist romantic and autumn mist just sad?