Quotes About Elusiveness

If a thinker throws off too many unsystematic and rich insights, there is no place to grab onto his thought. The thing he is trying to illuminate seems as elusive as before.

Machida always has his elusiveness and whatnot and Shogun has the tools to beat him.

What, they had asked Meyer, did he do for a living? "Business," he replied. "What kind of business?" came the question. "My business," came his answer, and Lansky absolutely declined to elaborate further.

when writing a biography, you can't trust certainties. Just as you're about to pounce on something that will condemn you to a tidy answer, pooooofff! It vanishes.

And always, I could see that, despite his weakness for her or because of it, he seemed uncatchable, as if he might slip away at any moment.

She had achieved the elusiveness that gives hidden significance to the least significant remarks.

She had achieved the elusiveness that gives hidden significance to the least significant remarks. "Is it like you felt toward me in Paris?" "I feel comfortable and happy when I'm with you. In Paris it was different. But you never know how you once felt. Do you?

Through all he said, even through his appalling sentimentality, I was reminded of something—an elusive rhythm, a fragment of lost words, that I had heard somewhere a long time ago. For a moment a phrase tried to take shape in my mouth and my lips parted like a dumb man's, as though there was more struggling upon them than a wisp of startled air. But they made no sound, and what I had almost remembered was uncommunicable forever.

Who is Fox?, I asked. Policeman Fox is the third of us, said the Sergeant, but we never see him or hear tell of him at because he is always on his beat and never off it and he signs the book in the middle of the night when even a badger is asleep. He is as mad as a hare, he never interrogates the public and he is always taking notes.

Since he was seldom seen, people often wondered about his whereabouts.

This legal legerdemain again frustrated lawmakers who felt that the combine was so vast, slippery, and elusive that it could never be tamed or held accountable.

I'm trying to find someone who doesn't want to be found. That can be as hard as looking for a shadow.

I think while I was passed out, I dreamed about my mom's gingerbread cookies. Maybe the guy who knocked on the glass was eatin' one." "Mm," said Peace-not-War. "Well. That's helpful. We'll put an APB out on the Gingerbread Man. I'm not hopeful it'll do us much good, though. Word on the street is you can't catch him.

I never wish to be easily defined. I'd rather float over other people's minds as something strictly fluid and non-perceivable, more like a transparent, paradoxically, iridescent creature rather than an actual person.

I think one of the primary themes in my work is the paradox of memory, at once fundamental to our sense of who we are and yet elusive, ever-changing, fragmentary. One way to look at this is to say that, therefore, we ourselves are elusive, ever-changing and fragmentary to ourselves.

Su situación, sin duda extraña, es la de un filósofo sin filosofía. Creador de un inagotable teatro de pensamientos, Platón parece estar siempre ligeramente retirado, de modo que es imposible fijarlo, y muy capaz de escapar de todo intento de inmovilizarlo. Sin embargo, tales intentos nunca faltaron. A lo largo de los siglos, nunca se ha dejado de fabricar el «platonismo» ni de combatirlo. Y sin embargo, el platonismo no es algo que podamos encontrar en Platón.

Paul, Paul, this is the claim you never made, the fervor you never showed. You were so cool and light, so elusive, and I never felt you encircling me and claiming possession. Rango is saying all the words I wanted to hear you say. You never came close to me, even while taking me. You took me as men take foreign women in distant countries whose language they cannot speak. You took me in silence and strangeness.

Ask whomever you will but you'll never find out where I'm lodging

Life is sometimes like a cat, the more you chase it the faster it runs.

I take it for granted that she has found a way to disappear, to leave not so much as a hair anywhere in this world.

Women are hard to keep track of, most of them. They slip into other names, and sink without a trace.

Theirs is the mystery of continuous creation and all that providence implies: the uncertainty of vision, the horror of the fixed, the dissolution of the present, the intricacy of beauty, the pressure of fecundity, the elusiveness of the free, and the flawed nature of perfection.

The creatures I seek do not want to be seen.

you are not what you seem - you're a Sylph - you leave and the air retains your image - you haunt me...