Quotes About Distance

he should have the craft to appear absent when close at hand, and within striking distance when a long way off;

They would emerge a short distance away, sometimes three or four of them, a short lived archipelago of volcanic islands.

I can well imagine that somewhere far off, 150 miles away, a ship's watch looked up, startled, and later reported the oddest thing, that he thought he heard a cat's meow coming from three o'clock. Days

There is no medical proof that television causes brain damage - at least from over five feet away. In fact, TV is probably the least physically harmful of all the narcotics known to man.

Oh solitude, that noble peace of the mind! He loved the throng and multitude of the day: he loved people: but sometimes he suspected that he loved them as God doesat a judicious distance.

I had reached the age of six hundred and fifty miles.

Art is innovation, and its history cannot be written except from a distance sufficiently great to perceive form and form-ratio. One might answer that art today is still an incessant violation of codes. But how are those violations legible if no one code ever settles into common use, that is, starts to behave like a language or another convention-based system for getting things done; like a style, in other words? There can be no artistic innovation unless someone else is not innovating.

People used what they called a telephone because they hated being close together and they were scared of being alone.

Aku telah berusaha sekuat tenaga, tapi perjalanan masih jauh.

While a thousand memories and moments, words, the first darling, the second time Carol had met her at the store, a thousand memories of Carol's face, her voice, moments of anger and laughter flashed like the tail of a comet across her brain. And now it was pale-blue distance and space, an expanding space in which she took flight suddenly like a long arrow.

Había dos maneras de mirarla: imaginando que estaba lejos y era grande, o creyendo que era pequeña y estaba cerca.

I was now so much greater that I could no longer see myself. As great as a far-off landscape. I was far off. But perceptible in my furthest mountains and in my remotest rivers: the simultaneous present no longer scared me, and in the furthest extremity of me I could finally smile without even smiling. At last I was stretching beyond my sensibility.

I want, inside this night, life raw and bloody and full of saliva. I want this word: splendidness, splendidness is the fruit in its succulence, fruit without sadness. I want distances. My wild intuition about myself. But my main thing is always hidden. I am implicit. And when I make myself explicit I lose the humid intimacy.

I want to see birds flying or perched in trees—but far from my hands.

There were two ways of looking at it: imagining that it was far away and big, in the first place; in the second, that it was small and near. But at any rate, a stupid, hard, brown mountain. How she hated nature sometimes.

I am always remote from myself, I am unreachable to myself just as a star is unreachable to me. I contort myself to be able to touch the present time that surrounds me, but I remain remote in relation to this very instant itself. The future, God help me, is closer to me than the present instant.

All at once the exteriority of the world for the body that opens up to it, the distance of the things in front of this body, their absolute alterity, the body's folding back outside everything that it captures and yet its implication in the visible, the turning back of the visible upon itself that constitutes it as seeing and that causes it to perceive from the very foundation of being to which it adheres.

Where? On the impalpable and the invisible. Nowhere. Not even necessarily in the place where my mistress happens to be, since I sometimes love her better absent than present.

Meet me at the moon.

Our stars weren't meant for their sky. We have never known the same horizon.

The middle of the sentence had already left the beginning of the sentence lost in the distance, and the end of the sentence was slower to arrive than a school holiday.

You didn't have to travel very far out of Vientiane before the road turned to pebbles and potholes. Traveling in a truck was like falling down an endless flight of uneven steps in a coffin.

Trade as well as war has changed aspect—both are now fought at long range.

Were this world an endless pain, and by sailing eastward we could forever reach new distances, and discover sights more sweet and strange than any Cyclades or Islands of King Solomon, then there were promise in the voyage.