Quotes About Fevered

What is this slow blue dream of living, and this fevered death by dreaming?

Life is but a short and fevered rehearsal for a concert we cannot stay to give.

Ballet's image of perfection is fashioned amid a milieu of wracked bodies, fevered imaginations, Balkan intrigue and sulfurous hatreds where anything is likely, and dancers know it.

Reality seems valueless by comparison with the dreams of fevered imaginations; reality is therefore abandoned.

All humans make mistakes. But there is no room or allowance in the fevered world of conspiracy theorists for mistakes, human errors, anomalies, or plain incompetence, though the latter, from the highest levels on down, is endemic to our society.

It was as if that distant bed were a stage and on the linen pillows of the little stage lay that boy, his black hair parted in the middle and curling about his ears, so that he looked now in his dream, fevered state like one of those lithe androgynous creatures of a Botticelli painting; and beside him, nestled against him, her tiny white hand stark against his flesh lay Claudia, her face buried in his neck.

Perceval was fevered, and her blood-still shocked by the unblade and the amputation of her wings-was not fighting as it should.

The Imam and his priests were due to speak to the people at midnight. Feisal intended holding them spellbound and enthralled with his words, whipping them to a fevered pitch of holy frenzy in which they would lose all thought for themselves or for others and exist only for the God. In such a state the smoke of the burning bodies of butchered women and children would not stink with the foulness of murder but would be sweetest perfume and rise like incense to the heavens.

The poets say that youth is the day of the fevered blood, the hour of love, the moment of passion; and that with age comes the cooling baths of wisdom, whereby the fever is cured. The poets are wrong. I did not know love until late in my life, when I could no longer grasp it. Youth is ignorant, and its passion is abstract.

Reality seems valueless by comparison with the dreams of fevered imaginations; reality is therefore abandoned.

In America, the new post-postmodern politician is all about authenticity: the daffier you are, the 'realer' you must be. The more you have committed yourself to a ridiculous idea and fevered view, the more worthy you are of attention.

I am fevered with the sunset, I am fretful with the bay, For the wander-thirst is on me And my soul is in Cathay.

the hidden secret of love is the fevered soul

Is it too absurd? It must, it cannot be other, than the fevered conjectures of my brain, quite overpowered by the sudden loss. And so I will put down my pen, and make an end to activity, in the hope that silence may be as balm, and isolation relieve despair.

But the disease makes him ailing within and fevered without; disease makes men more physical, it leaves them nothing but body

As if we'd have sex in a cave surrounded by hordes of demons. This is reality, not your fevered imagination.

Should I wake him? Damned if I'd try. Even with that shoulder he's likely to come up out of that bed with murder in mind if we startle him. There were times when he was fevered that I thought he'd throttle me. For a man who likes children and animals, he's got a lot of violence in him. I daresay he has his reasons.

Jungle rain had no beginning or end; it grew like foliage from the sky, branching and arching to the earth, sometimes in solid thickets entangling the islands, and other times, in tendrils of blue mist curling out of coastal clouds. The jungle breathed an eternal green that fevered men until they dripped sweat the way rubbery jungle leaves dripped the monsoon rain.

Those who have been in the grip of passion will know its suffocating strength. It shuts down all the normal senses, occludes judgement, leaves one feeling weak and fevered.

Hey you — All our fevered history won't instill insight, won't turn a body conscious, won't make that look in the eyes say yes, though there is nothing to solve even as each moment is an answer.

Either the gates of hell had opened, or Tom had lost his mind; for there could be nothing like this entity outside the precincts of the damned, except in the fevered fantasies of a raving paranoid psychopath

What the bloody hell had happened, though? How had they done it—why? He felt as though he was fevered, his mind dazed with the waves of heat that throbbed over his body. And like the half-glimpsed things in fever dreams, he saw her naked flesh, pale and shimmering with sweat in the humid night, slick under John Grey's hand Ã¢â'¬Â¦ We were both fucking you!

Why did i obsess over people like this? Was it normal to fixate on strangers in this particular vivid, fevered way? I didn't think so. It was impossible to imagine some random passer-by on the street forming quite such an interest in me.

Why did I obsess over people like this? Was it normal to fixate on strangers in this particular vivid, fevered way? I didn't think so. It was impossible to imagine some random passer-by on the street forming quite such an interest in me.