Quotes About Symbolism

I bet you could catch bullets," she said, and threw the stick away. "How do you do that?" "By not being human," he said. "That's why you could never trick a bear. We see tricks and deceit as plain as arms and legs. We can see in a way humans have forgotten. But you know about this; you can understand the symbol reader.

A human being with no daemon was like someone without a face, or with their ribs laid open and their heart torn out; something unnatural and uncanny that belonged to the world of nightghasts, not the waking world of sense.

Everything has a meaning, if only we could read it

May I ask a question? Without the books of symbols, how do you read it?" "I just make my mind go clear and then it's sort of like looking down into water. You got to let your eyes find the right level, because that's the only one that's in focus. Something like that," she said.

There ariseth a little cloud out of the sea, like a man's hand. • I KINGS •

For Empire is no more, and now the Lion & Wolf shall cease." —from "America: A Prophecy" by William Blake

Perhaps, she thought calmly, whatever moves the alethiometer's needle is making the Aurora glow too.

La fente, comme tracée au tire-ligne, cette superbe couture rabattue, qui s'épanouira un jour en pétales et, au fil du temps, deviendra le con de la femme, un pliage d'origami.

You can store us like shoes or ship us like lettuce. The simpleton who invented the coffin was a poetic genius and a great wit.

Nipples like pencil erasers, hard and corrective against wide shallow breasts whose broad curves I know like the Lake's own tired sweep.

For the chronically illiterate, a photo-op is worth much, much more than a thousand words.

and Miss Dietrich smiled and nodded at this and said that a girl in search of a husband should squeeze apple seeds between her fingers: if any struck the ceiling, she was sure to be happy in her quest, for apples were the fruit of love.

There were some crucial things Vera's parents were forgetting about crosses, was what Peter said. One was that Jesus was nailed to His by enemies, not by Mary and Joseph. And another, he said, was that it killed Him. Christ's cross killed Him. We've got to remember what crosses are, Peter said. They're not just decorations on steeples. They're murder weapons, he said, the same as guns, or gas chambers, or electric chairs.

Baseball is not life. It is a fiction, a metaphor. And a ballplayer is a man who agrees to uphold that metaphor as though lives were at stake.

There is certainty in a ring. The non-ending, the non-beginning. The ongoing. The way it holds on to you not because it's fastened or stretched or adhered. It holds on because it fits.

This was how we'd always played. You were Cinderella, I was a mouse. You were Alice, I was the Hatter. You were the sun, and I wasn't even the moon.

That's okay, you told me. I like them better when they're dried up. I'll keep them for years. Until our Get Rid of the Roses anniversary.

How do you commemorate a year? A paper anniversary, but we are the words written down, not the paper. If I could, I would give him a lime-green couch, a cabin by a lake, a fireworks display, an orchard of butterflies, and the certainty that I love him.

once again I think about how people use the devil as an alias for the things they fear.

The phoenix calls to me. It looks me in the eye and knows who I am. It knows that we each can be more than just one thing. It knows that we live in a perpetual state of beginning and a perpetual state of ending. I would wear that on my skin were I ever given skin of my own. I would let it send its wordless message to everyone I meet, as a way for them to get to know me a little more, to understand my flight path a little better

Why try to angle together the wall souvenirs of our new-to-New-York lives, when we could invent new hieroglyphs to represent us?

Owl love you forever

The bow tie is like the pierced eyebrow of the Republican party.

Art is the essential medium for the communication of a moral ideal.