Quotes About Ethereal

Scivolò via come un'onda, solo più bella delle altre.

only the rustle of those colours waving in the air, impenetrable, lighter than nothingness

Aš netgi negird?jau jos balso. O po valand?l?s. - Tai keista kan?ia. Švelniai. - Mirti iš ilgesio d?l kažko, ko jau niekad nepatirsi.

Cómo es el fin del mundo? -le preguntó Baldabiou. -Invisible.

night-shining, or noctilucent

the rest are secrets save for oriole which is a color in the afterlife

God is the sound when there is none.

the fragrance of a sound

Some motionless conflict in the sky

There is a heaven of disembodied voices

He walked on, quiet as the fog.

It also allows you to look as though you're not particularly from the present, future or past, either.

Outer-body-experiences are hard to describe, since all we really know are our five senses. Suffice it to say that there was a tingling sensation and a sense of the laws of gravity loosening their grip on my body, much like being an astronaut floating above the surface of my house.

There's always something that you can't pin down with words. Words fall flat all the time — look at the word dust around you.

Some of my favorite places I have been in my life exist only in dreams.

Um corpo diferente de todos, mais fino, mais alvo, cor-de-rosa, uma beleza que não se sabe — como uma riqueza inesperada, roubada, como uma vertigem... Despir Dona Lalinha será sempre um pecado. Eu teria de ter vivido para a merecer — desde a hora do meu nascimento.

Everything comes out of smoke and mist and nothingness, a mystical happening…

Sitting there, all delicate and dreamy, she looked as if someone had only given half a life to her.

He loved the soothing hour, when the last tints of light die away; when the stars, one by one, tremble through æther, and are reflected on the dark mirror of the waters; that hour, which, of all others, inspires the mind with pensive tenderness, and often elevates it to sublime contemplation.

Sunset in the ethereal waves: I cannot tell if the day is ending, or the world, or if the secret of secrets is inside me again.

You're the sinner, seeing the heavenly, Sweetest dream, before passing away…

To write incorporeal poems, almost without words. To approximate the impossible, where art disappears and the Word becomes.

Her albino hair illuminated my dreams, shining brighter than moonlight.

She herself did not seem quite real. She was pale and almost transparent, the victim I used for my own enjoyment in dreams.