Quotes About Golden

The people who live in a golden age usually go around complaining how yellow everything looks.

Be thou comforted,little dog;thou too in Resurrection shall have a little golden tail.

Chance. It weaves through our lives like a golden thread, sometimes knotting, tangling, and breaking along the way. Loose threads are left hanging, but the in and out, the back and forth continues, the weaving goes on. It doesn't stop.

She was radiant, her cheeks glowing with heat, her long locks shimmering in the lantern light like golden marmalade, swinging in rhythm with the zitaraes and flutes. I wished I could be her sometimes, jumping into every moment fully, her cheer covering the darkness that still lurked deep inside her.

I bite the olive again. Again the bitter salt crisp ravishes my tongue. "If this is vanity, vanity let it be." The golden moments flit by and I heed them not. For am I not comfortably seated and eating an olive! Go hang yourself, you who have never been comfortably seated and eating an olive!

She had seen, at last, her real enemy. Not the terrible old woman on the black horse; she could be terrible only because of him, the glowing ghost, the lion-maned head on the silver drachmas, directing her fate from his golden bier.

The dandelion. Where will you find another prodigal so merry or so golden or so wasteful, pouring out treasure down the sides of hills and cupping it in valleys?

Chill, sister golden hair." -Brian

And now that they have us here, under their control, they've dropped whatever act they had on earth. We're seeing them as they really are.' He dipped his glove into the water and watched as the water turned golden. The air suddenly smelled of citrus. 'Look! It's orange juice!' 'Josh, focus!' 'You sound just like Mom or Isis or whatever her name is.

It was one of those golden July afternoons stolen from spring, and they sat outside in T-shirts drinking beer.

Golden Boy said, stepping to like some sort of bulldog. He had to be Schoolmarm's brother—same grey-green eyes, same hair caught between blond and brown. The asshole didn't have the first clue how to handle a nail gun, that was clear. And from one quick look in the back room, a circular saw was beyond

A waffle is like a pancake with a syrup trap.

Autumn is the maturity of thoughtfulness, the golden sunset of life.

The heart's seasons seldom coincide with the calendar. Who among us has not been made desolate beyond all words upon some golden day when the little creatures of the air and meadow were life incarnate, from sheer joy of living? Who among us has not come home, singing, when the streets were almost impassable with snow, or met a friend with a happy, smiling face, in the midst of a pouring rain?

El rostro de Annie parecía amónico y dorado, como el de una mujer de un cuadro renacentista.

Let's reject the notion that men have exclusive rights to the sun. Must Helios, Apollo, Ra, Mithras, and the other golden boys take up every seat in the solar chariot that lights each day and coaxes forth all life? This is a miscarriage of mythology, for a woman's egg resembles nothing so much as the sun at its most electrically alive: the perfect orb, speaking in tongues of fire.

In matters of the national interest, silence is not golden; it's yellow.

I could see sunlight making exquisite patterns on the water's surface above me. Everything seemed fascinating and very slow. All around me lionfish darted like golden suns and moons in an alchemists's dream. I looked down to where a vast labyrinth of black seaweed awaited me.

Francis Wheen will release Strange Days Indeed: The Golden Age of Paranoia

The shield on his left arm was matcing red leather stretched over wood and painted with a black snake with golden eyes and tongue; around its edge another snake, this time of armoured scales, glinted in the shimmering tree light.

The over-ripe, golden autumn which had taken hold of the town tugged at our heartstrings. The nomadic life makes you sensitive to the seasons: you rely on them, even become part of the season itself, and each time they change, it seems to have to tear yourself away from a place where you have learned to live.

Needless to say, the dynamic of the resurrection and a God who cannot be buried for long is the dynamic of a child's jack-in-the-box writ large in golden cosmic letters.

Let forgiveness weave its golden thread, Healing wounds that once bled, For in its power, we transcend, And find love and peace, until the end.

Truly now is the golden age; the highest honour comes by means of gold; by gold love is procured.