The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page.
allegory books broad-mindedness classic education imagery travel world
What is more cheerful, now, in the fall of the year, than an open-wood-fire? Do you hear those little chirps and twitters coming out of that piece of apple-wood? Those are the ghosts of the robins and blue-birds that sang upon the bough when it was in blossom last Spring. In Summer whole flocks of them come fluttering about the fruit-trees under the window: so I have singing birds all the year round.
birds happiness imagery seasons
Up then, fair phoenix bride, frustrate the sun; Thyself from thine affectionTakest warmth enough, and from thine eyeAll lesser birds will take their jollity. Up, up, fair bride, and callThy stars from out their several boxes, takeThy rubies, pearls, and diamonds forth, and makeThyself a constellation of them all; And by their blazing signifyThat a great princess falls, but doth not die. Be thou a new star, that to us portendsEnds of much wonder; and be thou those ends.
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The brain had its own food on which it battened, and the imagination, made grotesque by terror, twisted and distorted as a living thing by pain, danced like some foul puppet on a stand and grinned through moving masks.
guilt horror imagery imagination macabre supernatural
In the height of the gusts, in my high position, where the seas did not break, I found myself compelled to cling tightly to the rail to escape being blown away. My face was stung to severe pain by the high-driving spindrift, and I had a feeling that the wind was blowing the cobwebs out of my sleep-starved brain.
imagery inspiration
For the first time she could see a man's head naked of its skull. Saw the cunning thoughts race in and out through the caves and promontories of his mind long before they darted through the tunnel of his mouth.
imagery man mind thinking thoughts woman
Shimamoto was in charge of the records. She'd take one from its jacket, place it carefully on the turntable without touching the grooves with her fingers, and, after making sure to brush the cartridge free of any dust with a tiny brush, lower the needle ever so gently onto the record. When the record was finished, she'd spray it and wipe it with a felt cloth. Finally she'd return the record to its jacket and its proper place on the shelf. Her father had taught her this procedure, and she followed his instructions with a terribly serious look on her face, her eyes narrowed, her breath held in check. Meanwhile, I was on the sofa, watching her every move. Only when the record was safely back on the shelf did she turn to me and give a little smile. And every time, this thought hit me: It wasn't a record she was handling. It was a fragile soul inside a glass bottle.
beautiful imagery music records
Here we go mother on the shipless ocean. Pity us, pity the ocean, here we go.
imagery loneliness ocean poetry sea
Their heart grew coldthey let their wings down
beauty defeat giving-in giving-up imagery poetry
]Sardisoften turning her thoughts here]you like a goddessand in your song most of all she rejoiced. But now she is conspicuous among Lydian womenas sometimes at sunsetthe rosyfingered moonsurpasses all the stars. And her lightstretches over salt seaequally and flowerdeep fields. And the beautiful dew is poured outand roses bloom and frailchervil and flowering sweetclover. But she goes back and forth rememberinggentle Atthis and in longingshe bites her tender mind
beauty imagery poetry
]sing to usthe one with violets in her lap]mostly]goes astray
I often wish I'd got on better with your father,' he said. But he never liked anyone who--our friends,' said Clarissa; and could have bitten her tongue for thus reminding Peter that he had wanted to marry her. Of course I did, thought Peter; it almost broke my heart too, he thought; and was overcome with his own grief, which rose like a moon looked at from a terrace, ghastly beautiful with light from the sunken day. I was more unhappy than I've ever been since, he thought. And as if in truth he were sitting there on the terrace he edged a little towards Clarissa; put his hand out; raised it; let it fall. There above them it hung, that moon. She too seemed to be sitting with him on the terrace, in the moonlight.
beautiful imagery marriage melancholy moon romance sadness tso-love
.. All kinds of images swim like tropical fish in the bathysphere inside my skull..
imagery images skull thoughts writing
From daybreak to sunset she turned her thoughts, like boulders, over. She set them in long lines. She rearranged their order..
imagery thoughts
[M]en, though they know full well how much women are worth and how great the benefits we bring them, nonetheless seek to destroy us out of envy for our merits. It's just like the crow, when it produces white nestlings: it is so stricken by envy, knowing how black it is itself, that it kills its own offspring out of pique.
crows dignity empowerment envy feminism gender hypocrisy imagery inequality jealousy men merits misogyny suppression ugliness women worth