Quotes About Horizon

The sun has drowned itself in the sea, said Lucy-Ann at last, as it disappeared.

Memory marks the horizon of our consciousness, imagination its zenith.

Like birds of passage, the instincts drift the soul adventurously beyond the horizon of sensible things, as if intent on convoying it to the mother country from whence it had flown.

All'orizzonte, le stelle erano visibili in una scia chiara contro il lucido nero e le nubi afose, all'apparenza morbide, e l'acqua nera del fiume erano un rilievo nero sul letto di luce che giocava nell'acqua, lasciando che il mondo intero, il loro mondo, divenisse un capolavoro in bianco e nero.

If you're afraid of inflation, I think - and if you can bring yourself to have a long horizon - and when I say long, I mean ten to 20 years, not the usual ten to 20 weeks - that locking up resources in the ground is a terrific idea.

The West has always been the epicentre of possibility. One of the ways we forge against mortality is to head west. It's to do with catching the sun before it slips behind the horizon.

Late afternoon on the West Coast ends with the sky doing all its brilliant stuff.

If you stand over on the edge of the west coast of Ireland and look west, you are looking at something you can't see, only imagine. You know America is there, and you can imagine it being there. But you're also looking into infinity, because you can see nothing.

The point of mythology or myth is to point to the horizon and to point back to ourselves: This is who we are; this is where we came from; and this is where we're going. And a lot of Western society over the last hundred years - the last 50 years really - has lost that. We have become rather aimless and wandering.

The horizon is a little bit blocked with Didier Deschamps as manager. I respect his choices, but the French national team doesn't make me happy any more.

The first hour of accomplished love is perhaps the only passage in a man's life with which he is perfectly satisfied. It is the only reality that does not disappoint the dream of expectation. There is no region of speculation beyond it--its horizon bounds the world.

On a windswept hill by a billowing sea, my destiny sits and waits for me.

Storms rumble beyond the horizon, and the fires of heaven purge the earth. There is no salvation without destruction, no hope this side of death.

In war, you say a prayer for your dead and ride on, because there is always another fight over the next horizon. —al'Lan Mandragoran

With his coming are the dread fires born again. The hills burn, and the land turns sere. The tides of men run out, and the hours dwindle. The wall is pierced, and the veil of parting raised. Storms rumble beyond the horizon, and the fires of heaven purge the earth. There is no salvation without destruction, no hope this side of death. -fragment from The Prophecies of the Drqagon believed translated by N'Delia Basolaine First Maid and Swordfast to Raidhen of Hol Cuchone (circa 400 AB)

No, lad, it no be the treasure that makes for seeing the world. If you find yourself a fistful of gold, or some dead king's jewels, all well and good, but it be the strangeness you see that pulls you to the next horizon.

The unstained tower breaks and bends knee to the forgotten sign. The seas rage, and stormclouds gather unseen. Beyond the horizon, hidden fires swell, and serpents nestle in the bosom. What was exalted is cast down; what was cast down is raised up. Order burns to clear his path.

When you have mountains in the distance or even hills, you have space.

The wind was off shore, and only broke the sea's surface in to long, silvery ripples, and sent sheeny shadows flying out across it, from every point and headland, like transparent wings. The dusk was hanging a curtain of violet gloom over the sand-dunes and the headlands where gulls were huddling. The sky was faintly filmed over with scarfs of silken vapor. Cloud fleets rode at anchor along the horizons. An evening star was watching over the bar.

Sail beyond the sunset and the baths Of all the western stars until you die

Certainly on the vast windy plain, there was plenty of nothing to be looked at.

Her blue eyes capture the distance. -Sonya Cheuse

The incurable optimism of the farmer who throws his seed on the ground every spring, betting it and his time against the elements, seemed inextricably to blend with the creed of her pioneer forefathers that it is better farther on-- only instead of farther on in space, it was farther on in time, over the horizon of the years ahead instead of the far horizon of the west.

Kansas City Sunday, August 22, 1915 The country is flat and I can see as far as my eyes will let me.