Quotes About Mist

Moister than an oyster, Monty.

The Himalayas make you insignificant. When you are trekking in the mountains of the Himalayas and finally you reach the top exhausted and completely wiped out; you look down and you see nothing. For hundreds of miles you see just hills, mountains and mist; when you look up from your sleeping bag at night you can see just stars.

That particular April day was strange and foggy, blurring spaces between the trees and blanketing all of Ellingham in a milky mist. Dottie decided that the weather lent itself to a mystery. Sherlock Holmes would be perfect.

To stomp about the world ignoring cultural differences is arrogant, to be sure, but perhaps there is another kind of arrogance in the presumption that we may ever really build a faultless bridge from one shore to another, or even know where the mist has ceded to landfall.

white, vaporous

He just stared at the far-off horizon, slowly dissolving in the morning mist, toward the fields of Bagumbayan, toward the still sleeping sea.

I want to honor the cats who entered the Dark Forest to save the Clans with a special title. From now on they will be known as the Lights in the Mist.

Suddenly a mist of green on the trees, as quiet as thought.

I've discovered the best skincare, MV Organic Skincare. I love their Energising 9-Oil Cleanser, Rose Hydrating Mist and Rose Soothing & Protective Moisturiser

On late evenings when quiet inhabits my garden when grass sleeps and streets are only paths for silent mist I seem to remember Smiling.

She was as faithful as a morning mist, as hard as a sword-bayonet, and that, he thought, made her a suitable reward for a soldier.

A barge of mist floated along the water, and dragonflies, iridescent blue ones, darted back and forth like they were stitching up the air.

And beyond the timeless meadows and emerald pastures, the rabbit holes and moss-covered oak and rowan trees and the slippy sloppy houses of frogs, the woodland-scented wind rushed between the leaves and blew around the gray veil that dipped below the fells, swirling up in a mist, blurring the edges of the distant forest. (View from Windermere in the Lake District)

Already, Seattle is taking hold of her. She still holds Sedona in the dry tan of her skin and in her hair, but the fine mist of the Northwest is making its way to places she didn't know were parched.

Oh, aye. A bit of mist in the air might bring the selkies out to play. The selkies are seal people, you know.

She inhaled air so damp it seemed to drench her lungs.

But it does feed a strange longing to touch a dew-dampened lawn, or feel a cool mist on one's face, or even to remember the joy of a perfect day after a week of rain.

There is nothing more poetic and terrible than the skyscrapers' battle with the heavens that cover them. Snow, rain, and mist highlight, drench, or conceal the vast towers, but those towers, hostile to mystery and blind to any sort of play, shear off the rain's tresses and shine their three thousand swords through the soft swan of the fog.

Today in my heart a vague trembling of stars, but my way is lost in the soul of the mist. Light lops my wings.

I do not know how much they see through the Mist. I doubt it would matter to them if they knew the truth. Sometimes mortals can be more horrible than monsters.

Once, a moonbeam glanced off silver, illuminating the dark silhouette of Elric, but, as if repelled by the sight of a living creature on that bleak hill, the moon once again slunk behind its cloud-shield, leaving Elric thinking deeply. Leaving Elric in the darkness he desired. Thunder rumbled over distant mountains, sounding like the laughter of far-off gods. Elric shivered, pulled his blue cloak more tightly about him, and continued to stare over the misted lowlands.

remember you must live. remember you most love. remainder you mist leaf.

I really was never any more than what I was—a folk musician who gazed into the gray mist with tear-blinded eyes and made up songs that floated in a luminous haze. Now it had blown up in my face and was hanging over me.

Winter had long since come. It was freezing cold. Torn-up sounds and forms appeared with no evident connection from the frosty mist, stood, moved, vanished. Not the sun we are accustomed to on earth, but the crimson ball of some other substitute sun hung in the forest. From it, strainedly and slowly, as in a dream or a fairy tale, rays of amber yellow light, thick as honey, spread and on their way congealed in the air and froze to the trees.