Apparition Quotes

Authors: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
Categories: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
i-often-see-through-things-right-to-apparition-itself
the-heavenly-apparition-appears
my-father-is-apparition-my-mother-is-semiconscious-jessica-warman
the-operation-consciousness-has-created-apparition-called-me-mooji
youve-got-to-feel-little-nervous-when-you-first-meet-spielberg-the-guys-apparition
anything-could-happen-in-company-woman-whose-usual-status-is-apparition-margot-mccuaig
a-politician-who-has-no-compassion-is-nothing-but-evil-apparition-he-is-just-ghost-not-real-man-mehmet-murat-ildan
since-everything-is-but-apparition-having-nothing-to-do-with-good-bad-acceptance-rejection-one-may-well-burst-out-in-laughter-longchenpa
she-artist-writer-doesnt-wait-for-inspiration-she-acts-in-anticipation-its-apparition-steven-pressfield
america-is-haunted-by-apparition-steeped-in-slavery-i-wanted-to-remind-everyone-that-yo-weve-got-to-handle-this
like-vanishing-dew-passing-apparition-sudden-flash-lightning-already-gone-thus-should-one-regard-ones-self-ikkyu
richard-pilbrows-lighting-can-turn-coin-into-asteroid-idea-into-apparition-jack-kroll
on-night-halloween-i-have-never-seen-any-evil-apparition-fearsome-ghost-but-politicians-on-tv-they-are-real-goblins-specters-mehmet-murat-ildan
thus-in-single-phrase-i-can-define-great-illusion-concerning-love-in-this-world-it-is-effort-to-join-reality-with-apparition-yukio-mishima
umlaut-snaps-around-we-cut-to-blond-apparition-in-her-early-twenties-clearly-descended-from-olympus-by-way-hugh-hefners-mansion-woody-allen
youth-is-but-painted-shell-within-which-continually-growing-lives-that-wondrous-thing-spirit-man-biding-its-moment-apparition-earlier-in-some-lew-wallace
our-emf-meter-was-jumping-off-charts-we-found-her-alarm-clock-was-causing-crazy-electromagnetic-fields-around-it-we-spent-2299-on-nice-digital-clock-jason-hawes
It all comes back. Perhaps it is difficult to see the value in having one's self back in that kind of mood, but I do see it; I think we are well advised to keep on nodding terms with the people we used to be, whether we find them attractive company or not. Otherwise they turn up unannounced and surprise us, come hammering on the mind's door at 4 a.m. of a bad night and demand to know who deserted them, who betrayed them, who is going to make amends. We forget all too soon the things we thought we could never forget. We forget the loves and the betrayals alike, forget what we whispered and what we screamed, forget who we were. I have already lost touch with a couple of people I used to be; one of them, a seventeen-year-old, presents little threat, although it would be of some interest to me to know again what it feels like to sit on a river levee drinking vodka-and-orange-juice and listening to Les Paul and Mary Ford and their echoes sing "How High the Moon" on the car radio. (You see I still have the scenes, but I no longer perceive myself among those present, no longer could ever improvise the dialogue.) The other one, a twenty-three-year-old, bothers me more. She was always a good deal of trouble, and I suspect she will reappear when I least want to see her, skirts too long, shy to the point of aggravation, always the injured party, full of recriminations and little hurts and stories I do not want to hear again, at once saddening me and angering me with her vulnerability and ignorance, an apparition all the more insistent for being so long banished. It is a good idea, then, to keep in touch, and I suppose that keeping in touch is what notebooks are all about. And we are all on our own when it comes to keeping those lines open to ourselves: your notebook will never help me, nor mine you.

Joan Didion
it-all-comes-back-perhaps-it-is-difficult-to-see-value-in-having-ones-self-back-in-that-kind-mood-but-i-do-see-it-i-think-we-are-well-advised-to-keep-on-nodding-terms-with-people
What are the dead, anyway, but waves and energy? Light shining from a dead star? That, by the way, is a phrase of Julian's. I remember it from a lecture of his on the Iliad, when Patroklos appears to Achilles in a dream. There is a very moving passage where Achilles overjoyed at the sight of the apparition - tries to throw his arms around the ghost of his old friend, and it vanishes. The dead appear to us in dreams, said Julian, because that's the only way they can make us see them; what we see is only a projection, beamed from a great distance, light shining at us from a dead star... Which reminds me, by the way, of a dream I had a couple of weeks ago. I found myself in a strange deserted city - an old city, like London - underpopulated by war or disease. It was night; the streets were dark, bombed-out, abandoned. For a long time, I wandered aimlessly - past ruined parks, blasted statuary, vacant lots overgrown with weeds and collapsed apartment houses with rusted girders poking out of their sides like ribs. But here and there, interspersed among the desolate shells of the heavy old public buildings, I began to see new buildings, too, which were connected by futuristic walkways lit from beneath. Long, cool perspectives of modern architecture, rising phosphorescent and eerie from the rubble. I went inside one of these new buildings. It was like a laboratory, maybe, or a museum. My footsteps echoed on the tile floors.There was a cluster of men, all smoking pipes, gathered around an exhibit in a glass case that gleamed in the dim light and lit their faces ghoulishly from below. I drew nearer. In the case was a machine revolving slowly on a turntable, a machine with metal parts that slid in and out and collapsed in upon themselves to form new images. An Inca temple... click click click... the Pyramids... the Parthenon. History passing beneath my very eyes, changing every moment. 'I thought I'd find you here, ' said a voice at my elbow. It was Henry. His gaze was steady and impassive in the dim light. Above his ear, beneath the wire stem of his spectacles, I could just make out the powder burn and the dark hole in his right temple. I was glad to see him, though not exactly surprised. 'You know, ' I said to him, 'everybody is saying that you're dead.' He stared down at the machine. The Colosseum... click click click... the Pantheon. 'I'm not dead, ' he said. 'I'm only having a bit of trouble with my passport.' 'What?' He cleared his throat. 'My movements are restricted, ' he said. 'I no longer have the ability to travel as freely as I would like.' Hagia Sophia. St. Mark's, in Venice. 'What is this place?' I asked him. 'That information is classified, I'm afraid.' 1 looked around curiously. It seemed that I was the only visitor. 'Is it open to the public?' I said. 'Not generally, no.' I looked at him. There was so much I wanted to ask him, so much I wanted to say; but somehow I knew there wasn't time and even if there was, that it was all, somehow, beside the point. 'Are you happy here?' I said at last. He considered this for a moment. 'Not particularly, ' he said. 'But you're not very happy where you are, either.' St. Basil's, in Moscow. Chartres. Salisbury and Amiens. He glanced at his watch. 'I hope you'll excuse me, ' he said, 'but I'm late for an appointment.' He turned from me and walked away. I watched his back receding down the long, gleaming hall.

Donna Tartt
what-are-dead-anyway-but-waves-energy-light-shining-from-dead-star-that-by-way-is-phrase-julians-i-remember-it-from-lecture-his-on-iliad-when-patroklos-appears-to-achilles-in-dre
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