Quotes About Mirror

He could look at himself in a mirror and tell himself that he was one of the most powerful and dangerous men in the world... He could feel that he was a god in disguise.

On his way back to the living room he passed a mirror in the dining room and looked in it. His face looked strange. He smiled at the face in the mirror and it grinned back. He winked at it and went on. It was not his face but it didn't make any difference.

As I lay on the bed I could see the big mirror on the other side of the room but could not see what it reflected.

Aridea quite often turned to the Mirror—' 'With the usual question, I take it,' interrupted Geralt. '"Who is the fairest of them all?" I know; all Nehalenia's Mirrors are either polite or broken.

This clockwork twin of mine halted before me, her bowels churning out a settecento minuet, and offered me the bold carnation of her smile. Click, click--she raises her arm and busily dusts my cheeks with pink, powdered chalk that makes me cough; then thrusts towards me her little mirror.

Look in the face of your beloved, For in that mirror, you will see yourself.

The 1920s could be said to have patented the idea of history as a form of instant irony, as a funhouse mirror revealing every distortion and falsity in things once held timeless and true, and it is hard to use irony on those who perfected it.

I come from a background where there would be one mirror above the basin that was used by everyone in the house. If you spent more than five minutes in front of the mirror, you would probably get a whack. My mother was so strict that if anyone complimented me for being pretty, she would not encourage that discussion.

Our fashion for us, it's an expression; first of all of life, I put all of myself in my fashion. Sometimes it's good, sometimes it's bad, but this is a mirror, an expression about Domenico and Stefano. It's not just a profession: it's a person with a lot of personality.

Sisters are always drying their hair. Locked into rooms, alone, they pose at the mirror, shoulders bare, trying this way and that their hair, or fly importunate down the stair to answer the telephone.

Her hair stood back on either side A face bereft of loveliness. It had no envy now to hide What once no man on earth could guess. It formed the thorny aureole Of hard unsanctified distress. Mary Elizabeth Coleridge The Other Side of a Mirror

We all, with unveiled face, beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from glory to glory, just as by the Spirit of the Lord. – 2 Corinthians 3:18

Donnelley was lifting his shirt away from the torn flesh in his side. He was cranked around, trying to assess the damage in the muck-spotted mirror. To Vero, he looked like an expressionist painting in which all the objects were the same color of too-vivid red: the shirt, the hands holding the shirt, the belt bassing through pant loops. At the center of it all was the thing that corrupted its surroundings with its own gruesome color - a wound.

A sickness known as hate; not a virus, not a microbe, not a germ - but a sickness nonetheless, highly contagious, deadly in its effects. Don't look for it in the Twilight Zone - look for it in a mirror. Look for it before the light goes out altogether.

My doctor told me to watch my drinking. Now I drink in front of a mirror.

In the heterosexual act, it might be said, I move out from my body towards the other, whose flesh is unknown to me; while in the homosexual act I remain locked within my body narcissistically contemplating in the other an excitement that is the mirror of my own.

In their approach to business, the two men had often mirrored each other, stressing attention to detail, ruthlessly slashing costs, and keeping dividends low.

The forces that govern our experience, electromagnetism and gravity, are blind to the distinction between left and right. No process moderated by either force can turn something such as your right hand into its mirror image. I cannot

His face became a mirror, and in it I saw a monster version of myself, unleashing my anger like black magic. In front of my children, in front of my neighbors' house. If I'd really been a witch Nathan would have been a column of dust. Not even a lizard, not even a toad. Just nothing. Nothingness

serried ranks of bottles. A mirror like this, you could see

O Time, consumer of all things! O envious age, thou destroyest all things and devourest all things with the hard teeth of the years little by little, in slow death. Helen, when she looked in her mirror and saw the withered wrinkles which old age had made in her face wept and wondered why she had twice been carried away.

I don't know if you've noticed, but our two-party system is a bowl of shit looking at itself in the mirror.

We're all looking glasses, we girls, existing only to reflect their images back to them as they'd like to be seen.

It's like that moment when, often early in the morning, perhaps in a strange house, you pass before a mirror you hadn't known would be there. You see a glimpse of someone reflected in that mirror, and a moment passes before you recognize that that person is yourself. Literature exists in moments like that.