Quotes About Window

And now, at dusk, outside my window, the trees shake their heads like disco dancers in the strobe lights of nightlife long ago.

I think we'll shut that window again, if you don't mind. It is a singular thing, but I find that a concentrated atmosphere helps a concentration of thought.

Kesedihan adalah hal yang ganjil sekali; kita jadi tak berdaya di hadapannya. Seperti jendela yang membuka atas kemauannya sendiri. Ruangan menjadi dingin, dan kita tak bisa berbuat apa pun kecuali gemetar kedinginan. Namun setiap kali terbuka kembali, lebarnya sedikit berkurang, makin lama makin sempit; dan pada suatu hari kita bertanya-tanya sendiri, apa yang terjadi dengan jendela itu.

For Pythagoras as for Kepler, the two kinds of contemplation were twins; for them philosophy and religion were motivated by the same longing : to catch glimpses of eternity through the window of time.

Eszta fejében addig volt csend, amíg Ráhel meg nem érkezett. De a lány magával hozta az elrobogó vonatok hangját, és azt a fényt meg árnyékot, mely akkor éri az embert, ha az ablak mellett ül.

Somewhere the moon has fallen through a window and broken into thirty pieces of silver.

If we happened to be in rehearsal downstairs in my room and a neighbor padded across the lawn to rap gently on the window and ask us to please be more quiet, Natalie might simply lift up her skirt and mash her vagina against the window while extending her middle finger.

Dennis looked at the puppy in the window. We both did. It was the oddest thing. Normally, puppies in pet store windows sleep or pee or roll around on top of other dogs. This one ignored us its window-mates and was instead sitting with its nose pressed against the glass, looking at us with an extremely serious little expression on its face. An expression that seemed to me to be saying, I am a sacred cow. Get out your wallet.

She stood at the window, her arms spread wide, holding on to each side of the frame, it was as if she held a piece of the city.

When she had gone upstairs, he walked to a window and stood looking up at the sky. His head thrown back, he felt the pull of his throat muscles and he wondered whether the peculiar solemnity of looking at the sky comes, not from what one contemplates, but from that uplift of one's head.

Dentro un raggio di sole che entra dalla finestra, talvolta vediamo la vita nell'aria. E la chiamiamo polvere.

I put the book down and went to the window. I stared at my reflection and the trees behind it for a long time. Not thinking anything. Not hearing the record.

Glory never arrives through the front door. She sneaks in uninvited round the back or through an upstairs window while you are sleeping.

The beauty of religious mania is that it has the power to explain everything. Once God (or Satan) is accepted as the first cause of everything which happens in the mortal world, nothing is left to chance...logic can be happily tossed out the window.

Home is watching the moon rise over the open, sleeping land and having someone you can call to the window, so you can look together. Home is where you dance with others, and dancing is life.

Home is watching the moon rise over the open, sleeping land and having someone you can call to the window, so you can look together.

The sunlight pouring in the east window came through her lids and made a dark red beet soup that moved with the rhythm of her heart...

The world outside the window is beautiful only if you try to find beauty in those what you see

Busy old fool, unruly Sun, why dost thou thus through windows and through curtains call on us? Must to thy motions lovers seasons run?

Outside, the last of the light had long been extinguished. The snow was still falling. Where it caught the porch glow through the window it was bathed in a pale-gold, melancholy light. We sat there in peaceful silence, watching its hypnotic descent.

Pero Anthony O'Hare es una criatura distinta. Vuelve a limpiar la ventanilla y ve a Jennifer

You didn't take part, Benjamin?" Gunther asked, as he passed me a plate of cheese and cold meat. "My brother doesn't play games," said Paul. "He's an aesthete. He sat by the window all afternoon with a funny look on his face: probably composing a tone poem.

Romero's shirt. Spike's head was out the window, tilted up at the cloudless sky.

When I set out from the boy's attic window, my head was so full of competing plans and complex stratagems that I didn't look where I was going and flew straight into a chimney. Something symbolic in that. It's what fake freedom does for you.