Quotes About Ethereal

Beyond a mortal man impassion'd farAt these voluptuous accents, he arose,Ethereal, flush'd, and like a throbbing starSeen mid the sapphire heaven's deep repose;Into her dream he melted, as the rose,Blendeth its odour with the violet,—Solution sweet: meantime the frost-wind blowsLike Love's alarum pattering the sharp sleetAgainst the window-panes; St. Agnes' moon hath set.

I am a ghost. A wraith of atoms. A shadow.

The icicles wreathing On trees in festoon Swing, swayed to our breathing: They're made of the moon.

I would build a cloudy House For my thoughts to live in; When for earth too fancy-loose And too low for Heaven! Hush! I talk my dream aloud - I build it bright to see, - I build it on the moonlit cloud, To which I looked with thee.

Around me, a seemingly transfinite number of leaves chimed in a space without a wind.

A dark chuckle and the sensation of shifting earth, of a crimson eye splintering darkness, and the presence was gone as suddenly as it had come.

Maybe I was haunted, because I swear I felt a fleeting sense of contact, then, like the brush of immaterial fingers in my hair.

How did he know of this place? What is it, a shadow world, world of the half-told stories?

No mortal lights illuminated the scene: not even a few candles flickering dimly in the windows of the White Tower. There was only the ethereal moonlit glow surrounding the court of the Daoine Sidhe, who waited on fair steeds like so many ghostly riders on a procession out of Hell.

The parasite wings weighed almost nothing, but she felt them stir in the wind or with their own will.

Her tongue tasted the air and she smiled from fathomless eyes.

the ghosts of glaciers drift among those folds and folds of fir

Ghosts seem harder to please than we are; it is as though they haunted for haunting's sake -- much as we relive, brood, and smoulder over our pasts.

It was a woman--as pale and luminescent as a ghost, with swirling white hair. Ezra startled, dropping his pencil into the water. Her face snapped toward him. Her eyes were too large, clear green, and had horizontal, slit-shaped pupils, reminiscent of an octopus.

[N]ot quite birds, as they were not quite flowers, mysterious and fascinating as are all indeterminate creatures.

Fairyland...Paradise...In this place and at this time, Marguerite could know that the one was a parable of the other and both were synonyms for something that had no name.

A gentle kiss on the lips is like the breath of a fallen angel.

4. God made angels. Angels are, broadly speaking, copies of humans, whom God did not make.

A midnight breeze fluttered the aspens and shimmered through the moon-silvered willows along the creek. Clouds billowed across the sky, veiling the stars as they passed." "Her lips were like the petals of a storm-blown rose, cool and soft and yielding.

a thin white hand, a strip of poured milk in the dim light.

So, day after day, he lived in the grey phantasmal world, akin to death, that has, somehow, with most of us, made good its claim to be called life.

The northern lights rise like a kiss to the sea

The flowering sweetness of the stars

From castles of bone unknown music comes