Quotes About Shimmering

Her hair was full of lights

closed my eyes and listened. It was like music I'd heard all my life, even more than This Lullaby. All those keystrokes, all those letters, so many words. I brushed my fingers over the beads and watched as her image rippled, like it was on water, breaking apart gently and shimmering before becoming whole again.

This was that lucid and dangerous state with drinking, when everything began to shimmer; when there was meaning in the grain of the marble; when one could make the most offensive speeches.

I saw her shimmering face for an instant; she came towards me; I thought this is death again, this is death coming, the woods and the wolves coming, and no place to hide, and then my eyes closed.

Shafts of dusty light broke through the branches of the pomerac tree outside the open window. Pohpoh stared at the glittery dust particles that rose and fell in waves around Asha's head, partially silhouetting it in a halo of shimmering light.

She looked radiant in her shimmering white dress, itself a daring and unconventional choice

Summer does something to the brain, " Beth said. "It's intoxicating. Everything shimmers

Kovo looked at the boy for a long moment, misery etched in his face. Then, with a shimmering flash and a popping sound, the ape vanished.

MORE MICA THAN SAND.

Pain Waves are the sea's white daughters, And raindrops the children of rain, But why for my shimmering body Have I a mother like Pain? Night is the mother of stars, And wind the mother of foam— The world is brimming with beauty, But I must stay at home.

He would talk and talk and talk; the twilight would fill with cigarette smoke and shimmering words would tremble in the blue coils of air...

Mars tugs at the human imagination like no other planet. With a force mightier than gravity, it attracts the eye to the shimmering red presence in the clear night sky...

When she reached the house the sun had turned the morning air into a shimmering mirage of heat and dust devils. Hannah wished the rains had not finished so early. The land was already parched, stubbled with broken stalks of bleached grass.

Away off in the flaming sunshine, Cardiff Hill lifted its soft green sides through a shimmering veil of heat, tinted with the purple of distance; a few birds floated on lazy wing high in the air; no other living thing was visible but some cows, and they were asleep.

The past weaves all around this; we still duck in and out of its lost but shimmering kingdoms.

Centuries telescoped into one evanescent moment. History was wrong-footed, caught off guard. Sloughed off like an old snakeskin. Its marks, its scars, its wounds from old wars and the walking backwards days all fell away. In its absence it left an aura, a palpable shimmering that was as plain to see as the water in a river or the sun in the sky. As plain to feel as the heat on a hot day, or the tug of a fish on a taut line. So obvious that no one noticed.

The great hall was shimmering in light, sun streaming from the open windows, and ablaze with colour, the walls decorated with embroidered hangings in rich shades of gold and crimson. New rushes had been strewn about, fragrant with lavender, sweet woodruff, and balm... the air was... perfumed with honeysuckle and violet, their seductive scents luring in from the gardens butterflies as blue as the summer sky.

Not everyone is born a witch or a saint. Not everyone is born talented, or crooked, or blessed; some are born definite in no particular at all. We are a fountain of shimmering contradictions, most of us. Beautiful in the concept, if we're lucky, but frequently tedious or regrettable as we flesh ourselves out.

Love is a young green willow shimmering at the bare wood's edge

Meanwhile the castle rolled. Great walls collapsed, one into another. The colours of the tracts were horrible. The vilest green. The most hideous purple. Here the foul shimmering of rotting fungi – there a tract of books alive with mice.

The golden girl bathed in the water and the water turned gold

Laura po Kitty touží. Po její síle, po tom, jak vÄ›cnÄ›, pohodovÄ› pÃ…â"¢ijímá vÅ¡echna svá zklamání, po mihotavých r?žovozlatých svÄ›tlech její utajené osobnosti, po kÃ…â"¢ehkých naÅ¡amponovaných hlubinách jejích vlas?.

The shimmering, ever-shifting borderline, like all boundaries beckons and asks to be crossed.

It was the flashing lights, and the noise of the machines, and the loud, loud music, all seeming to refract and contract around her, her eyes widening, her hair swooshing, her slow smile shining. She seemed an actual part of the place - all fun, all joy, all shimmery skittering energy.