Quotes About Haze

You ask if everything dissolves like this in a thin haze of memories, if in this torpid hour or the breaker's sigh every destiny's fulfilled. I'd like to say no, that the moment when you'll pass out of time is rushing toward you; maybe only those who want to become infinite, and, who knows, you can do it; I cannot.

the valley shimmered beneath a watery heat haze like a giant pool of mercury.

I was born dead, in the dead of winter, still as a stone. Blue as the smoky haze that sometimes settles on the Ozark Mountains.

The plane turned onto the runway, amid noisy billows of dry brown air, and it accelerated slowly, complacently, as if fully aware the mysteries of flight had been worked out long ago, and it lifted off calmly, and glinted in the sun, and sideslipped in the haze, and curved upward on trails of soot, setting a dark but graceful course north and east.

Beautiful in the frost and mist-covered hills above the Dnieper, the life of the City hummed and steamed like a many-layered honeycomb. All day long smoke spiralled in ribbons up to the sky from innumerable chimney-pots. A haze floated over the streets, the packed snow creaked underfoot, houses towered to five, six and even seven storeys. By day their windows were black, while at night they shone in rows against the deep, dark blue sky . . .

As he put in his studs he realized that he was enjoying life as he would probably never enjoy it again. Everything was hallowed by the haze of his own youth. He had arrived, abreast of the best in his generation at Princeton. He was in love and his love was returned.

Everything was hallowed by the haze of his own youth.

I have in me like a haze]" I have in me like a haze Which holds and which is nothing A nostalgia for nothing at all, The desire for something vague. I'm wrapped by it As by a fog, and I see The final star shining Above the stub in my ashtray. I smoked my life. How uncertain All I saw or read! All The world is a great open book That smiles at me in an unknown tongue.

I have in me like a haze Which holds and which is nothing A nostalgia for nothing at all, The desire for something vague. — Fernando Pessoa, opening lines to "[I have in me like a haze]," trans. Richard Zenith, Fernando Pessoa and Co.: Selected Poems (Grove Press, 1998)

who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism

the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism

THE DUKE Leto Atreides leaned against a parapet of the landing control tower outside Arrakeen. The night's first moon, an oblate silver coin, hung well above the southern horizon. Beneath it, the jagged cliffs of the Shield Wall shone like parched icing through a dust haze. To his left, the lights of Arrakeen glowed in the haze—yellow . . . white . . . blue.

the last few months had passed in a kind of delirium

Nilima made her hands into fists and put them on her waist. "Nirmal, you have no idea of what it takes to do anything practical," she said. "You live in a dream world—a haze of poetry and fuzzy ideas about revolution. To build something is not the same as dreaming of it. Building is always a matter of well-chosen compromises.

At school, I couldn't help but grin. At home, something ripped under my skin when I smiled, trying to pretend that everything was fine. Deadly moods lurked in a purple-white haze, smoke clinging to the curtains, turning stale overnight.

covered in trees, and dazzling waterfalls spilling into blue lakes. There are also dirt roads zigzagging in and around. But the most amazing thing about the view is that there is a haze of multicolored sparkles hovering over the mountains.

Miranda looked up at him through a haze of desire, her will consumed by a fierce crackling heat, just like the dry twigs of the old woman's fire.

Voyager's passage through Saturn's inner system exposed diverse moons with dynamic forces at work. Titan, Saturn's largest moon, whose surface remained invisible through its thick, ubiquitous haze, nonetheless teased observers with hints of a possible ocean of liquid hydrocarbons.

On the eastern horizon there's a greyish haze, lit now with a rosy, deadly glow. Strange how that colour still seems tender. He gazes at it with rapture; there is no other word for it. Rapture. The heart seized, carried away, as if by some large bird of prey. After everything that's happened, how can the world still be so beautiful? Because it is.

He's got his cigarette going. He offers her one; this time she takes it. Brief match-flare insider their cupped hands. Red finger-ends. She thinks, Any more flame and we'd see the bones. It's like X-rays. We're just a kind of haze, just coloured water. Water does what it likes. It always goes downhill.

I saw in a blue haze all the world poured flat and pale between the mountains

Such clouds of dust had risen that there was a sort of twilight around.

By all the rules of modern fiction there should have been gunsmoke mingling its acrid blue with the brown haze of corral dust. Dead men should have fallen and been trampled... Nothing of this sort happened.

Opening day, May 1, 1931, was a cool day with a slight haze, but the chill and less-than-ideal visibility did little to restrain Al Smith's exuberance for the consecration of the house.