Quotes About Ethereal

One impression I had was how zero zero gravity is.

congress of angels.

The lovely thing about real happiness is that it is there all of a sudden, unexpected, weightless as a little summer cloud and just as radiant and intangible.

The clouds, — the only birds that never sleep.

Beauty is a mystery. You can neither eat it nor make flannel out of it.

She's got the kind of ethereal, unselfconscious beauty some young girls possess that breaks your heart. Or theirs.

The house, the stars, the desert -- what gives them their beauty is something that is invisible!

Souls will never ascend to Heaven until the sight of beauty lifts them there.

I saw the tracks of angels in the earth: the beauty of heaven walking by itself on the world.

and her skin shone luminous and impossibly pale, as if it drank light from the moon.

What does my soul look like to you?' 'I couldn't reduce it to words if I tried, but its beauty is unsurpassed.

Her beauty climbed the rolling slope, it came into the room, rustling ghost-like through the curtains.

Elly's eyes were huge and her mouth was open and she was clutching her hands over her chest. Her mouth was moving but he couldn't hear what she was saying. She looked weirdly pale, even her clothes. "Elly?" She held out her hands. As she was about to touch him, her fingers became foggy tendrils. He could see right through her, as if she had turned to mist. "Elly?" he said. He reached out for her, but she was gone.

To live is to be haunted.

I am like a gray thing, he thought. Bustling along with the currents of air that tumble me, that roll me, like a gray puffball, on and on.

In some lights they were hardly there at all, just visible as a drifting quality in the light, a rhythmic evanescence, like veils of transparency turning before a mirror.

with no more weight than a shadow.

She felt light-headed, as if part of her were somewhere else and dreaming of this, and she'd wake up soon and find everything normal.

It feels like we've stepped outside of time. Even though there is no such place.

She caught me looking at her. 'What?' she asked. 'Your lightness,' I said, hardly knowing what I was saying. 'It's disarming.

it is hard for many people to abandon the concept that human beings are angels imprisoned in earthly shells.

Night has patterns that can be read less by the living than by the dead.

In the moonlight the fine geishalike skin took on the luster of a seashell.

Now that he was near her, this sighing of the human skin took on a dreamlike quality like the spell of the mountains.