Quotes About Edges

When you're someone who likes control, this world can often resemble staring into a broken mirror. You see the sharp, ragged edges but lose sight of yourself.

There's no need for me to enter your mind, just sit at the edges and look for leakage." "Leakage?" Veran looked at his daughter. "You magicians have some interesting terms. Not particularly reassuring ones.

But no sword is simple. Every blade has two edges; he who wounds with one wounds himself with the other.

The dark edges fell back again, receded until there was only here, only now. A sunlit day, a celebration, a family. Life was like that, full of quicksilver changes. Joy appeared as unexpectedly as sunlight.

And Miss Oleander Coy had herself a blue mouth. Little stains at the edges of her raspberry lips where she put her pen when she was thinking, which was always.

Stories are like snapshots, pictures snatched out of time, with clean hard edges. But this was life, and life always begins and ends in a bloody muddle, womb to tomb, just one big mess, a can of worms left to rot in the sun.

An ideal potato gratin will contain creamy and tender potato slices, topped with a crunchy, golden crust, and browned edges underneath and all around - a quality that requires good heat transfer from the dish to its contents.

In the big factory of perfecting human souls, the Earth was kind of tumbler. The sale as the kind people use to polish rocks. All souls come here to rub the sharp edges off each other. This isn't suffering. It's erosion.

There is something that happens to the mind in moments of terror. Perhaps we figure it's the last we'll ever have and we record it for the rest of our long journey. We take perfect snapshots an album to despair over. We trim the edges and place them in plastic. We tuck the scrapbook away to take out in our ruined times.

the beauty of the world which is so soon to perish, has two edges, one of laughter, one of anguish, cutting the heart asunder.

The kitchen table was something visionary, austere; something bare, hard, not ornamental. There was no colour to it; it was all edges and angles; it was uncompromisingly plain.

In a relentlessly commercial culture, the communication of our private meanings has been vaguely corrupted around the edges by the toxic idioms of merchandising.

Life is a rough biography. Memories smooth out the edges.

I start out giving characters archetypes and parameters. Once I know the basics and have a rudimentary model, it's easier to carve unique curves and edges. It's quite easy to guess how a character is going to react if you know their background, and at a certain point, you realize you understand them personally.

Their blissfully soft texture calmed me but alerted me at the same time. I couldn't explain the gentle spark of light that dripped off the edges. And of course, the aqua trim felt way too familiar.

It appears that it is the robin's ability to see contours and edges in the landscape that provides the appropriate signal to trigger the magnetic sense. Extraordinary! As one of my colleagues said: 'You couldn't make this stuff up.

All my novels are about the ambiguities that lie beneath the sharp edges of the law.

...i breathe a reverie'd ether of beauty i drown in fantasy too deep i love on the edges of souls i sleep on the shores of night...

Possibility, infinity, beauty -- none of those words were right. [...] What he really wanted to say was: have you felt this? this phantom life streaking like a phosphorescent hound at the edges of your ruin?

Usually my ideas for work have revolved around my interest in people, especially people that live on the edges of society.

There are certain sounds that I've found work well in nearly any context. Their function is not so much musical as spatial: they define the edges of the territory of the music.

There is always constant pressure to conform. But originality only happens on the edges of reality.

out all other thoughts. My vision narrowed, darkness pushing in from the edges. My heart raced. A high-pitched ring pulsed in my ears. Searing pain infused my nose

Sorrow was like sleeping on stone, he decided. You had to settle all its bumps and sharp edges, come to terms against them, fit them around until they became bearable, and then carry your bed wherever you went.