Dewy 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-know-little-garden-close-set-thick-with-lily-red-rose-where-i-would-wander-if-i-might-from-dewy-dawn-to-dewy-night-and-have-one-with-me-wandering-william-morris
i-like-looking-wet-sweaty-dewy-fresh
reading-chaucer-is-like-brushing-through-dewy-grass-at-sunrise-james-russell-lowell
a-light-like-glint-water-on-dewy-grass-flashed-from-under-her-feet-as-she-danced-jrr-tolkien
going-out-late-at-night-laying-in-dewy-field-reading-kurt-vonnegut-book-by-moonlight-john-green
actually-when-im-not-filming-movie-my-beauty-approach-is-really-natural-i-prefer-bare-face-that-looks-really-healthy-dewy-eva-green
i-want-you-to-know-how-perfect-your-body-looks-after-shower-fresh-covered-in-little-drops-water-just-like-dewy-grass-after-night-rainfall-sheri-rosa
lord-above-was-there-better-sight-than-woman-flush-with-passion-her-skin-dewy-pink-her-breasts-bouncing-from-force-his-thrusts-kristen-callihan
i-have-freckles-i-dont-like-covering-up-too-much-i-like-things-dewy-natural-i-think-that-having-moisture-in-your-skin-is-really-beautiful-youthful-sometimes-thats-more-important-
pride-dewy-morning-the-swains-experienced-eye-from-thee-takes-timely-warning-nor-trusts-gorgeous-sky-john-keble
my-makeup-artist-tonya-brewer-taught-me-importance-moisturizing-daily-hydration-is-must-if-you-want-pretty-dewy-skin-which-i-love-bella-thorne
his-icy-lovecicle-pressed-against-her-dewy-portal-demanding-admittance-to-her-passion-chamber-how-did-guy-with-no-heartbeat-no-pulse-get-erection-who-cares-nine-naughty-novelists
year-she-had-run-fleetly-through-dewy-grass-under-moon-night-wine-when-dreams-condensed-out-thin-air-like-nightmilk-fantasy-stephen-king
i-am-always-keen-to-discover-something-new-but-my-advice-is-always-to-exfoliate-get-rid-those-dead-dry-cells-then-new-skin-is-ready-for-moisturising-you-find-your-inner-dewy-yout
how-beautiful-is-night-a-dewy-freshness-fills-silent-air-no-mist-obscures-nor-cloud-nor-speck-nor-stain-breaks-serene-heaven-robert-southey
i-imagine-earth-when-i-am-no-more-womens-dresses-dewy-lilacs-song-in-valley-yet-books-will-be-there-on-shelves-well-born-derived-from-people-but-czeslaw-milosz
o-earth-o-earth-return-arise-from-out-dewy-grass-night-is-worn-and-morn-rises-from-slumbrous-mass-william-blake
alas-how-little-can-moment-show-of-eye-where-feeling-plays-in-ten-thousand-dewy-rays-a-face-oer-which-thousand-shadows-go-william-wordsworth
ethereal-minstrel-pilgrim-sky-dost-thou-despise-earth-where-cares-abound-or-while-wings-aspire-are-heart-eye-both-with-thy-nest-upon-dewy-ground-william-wordsworth
i-love-dior-products-they-have-this-capture-totale-one-essential-skin-boosting-super-serum-that-gives-you-fresh-glowing-dewy-skin
by-cool-siloams-shady-rill-how-sweet-lily-grows-how-sweet-breath-beneath-hill-of-sharons-dewy-rose-richard-heber
from-morn-to-noon-he-fell-from-noon-to-dewy-eve-summers-day-with-setting-sun-dropped-from-zenith-like-falling-star-john-milton
just-like-love-is-yonder-rose-heavenly-fragrance-round-it-throws-yet-tears-its-dewy-leaves-disclose-and-in-midst-briars-it-blows-just-like-love-percy-smythe
beside-brook-on-umbered-meadow-where-yellow-ferntufts-fleck-faded-ground-with-folded-lids-beneath-their-palmy-shadow-the-gentian-nods-in-dewy-sarah-helen-whitman
fast-fading-violets-coverd-up-in-leaves-and-midmays-eldest-child-the-coming-muskrose-full-dewy-wine-the-murmurous-haunt-flies-on-summer-eves-john-keats
the-cool-peace-dewy-sweetness-night-filled-me-with-mood-hope-not-hope-on-any-definite-point-but-general-sense-encouragement-heartease-charlotte-bronte
old-april-wanes-her-last-dewy-morn-her-deathbed-steeps-in-tears-to-hail-may-new-blooming-blossoms-neath-sun-are-born-and-all-poor-aprils-charms-are-john-clare
On cool autumn nights, eels hurrying to the sea sometimes crawl for a mile or more across dewy meadows to reach streams that will carry them to salt water.' These are adult eels, silver eels, and this descent that slid down my mind in the fall from a long spring ascent the eels made years ago... sometimes as high as 8, 000 feet above sea level. There they lived without breeding 'for at least 8 years.' In the late summer of the year they reached maturity, they stopped eating, and their dark color vanished. They turned silver; now they are heading to the sea. Down streams to rivers, down rivers to the seas, south in the North Atlantic where they meet, they are returning to the Sargasso Sea, where, in floating sargassum weed in the deepest waters of the Atlantic, they will mate, release their eggs, and die. This, the whole story of eels at which I have just hinted, is extravagant to the extremes, and food for another kind of thought, a thought about the meaning of such wild, incomprehensible gestures. Imagine a chilly night and a meadow; balls of dew droop from the curved grass. All right: the grass at the edge of the meadow begins to tremble and sway. Here come the eels. The largest are five feet long. They stream into the meadow, sift between grasses, veer from your path. There are too many to count. All you see is a silver slither, like twisted ropes of water falling roughly... If I saw that sight, would I live? If I stumbled across it, would I ever set foot out of my door again? Or would I be seized to join that compelling rush, would I cease eating, and pale, and abandon all to start walking?

Annie Dillard
on-cool-autumn-nights-eels-hurrying-to-sea-sometimes-crawl-for-mile-more-across-dewy-meadows-to-reach-streams-that-will-carry-them-to-salt-water-these-are-adult-eels-silver-eels-
The bast, dispersing in shreds in the sunset whispered "Time has begun." The son, Adam, stripped naked, descended into the Old Testament of his native land and arrayed himself in bast; a wreath of roadside field grass he placed upon his brow, a staff, not a switch, he pulled from the ground, flourishing the birch branch like a sacred palm. On the road he stood like a guard. The dust-gray road ran into the sunset. And a crow perched there, perched and croaked, there where the celestial fire consumed the earth. There were blind men along the dust-gray road running into the twilight. Antique, crooken, they trailed along, lonely and sinister silhouettes, holding to one another and to their leader's cane. They were raising dust. One was beard-less, he kept squinting. Another, a little old man with a protruding lip, was whispering and praying. A third, covered with red hair, frowned. Their backs were bent, their heads bowed low, their arms extended to the staff. Strange it was to see this mute procession in the terrible twilight. They made their way immutable, primordial, blind. Oh, if only they could open their eyes, oh if only they were not blind! Russian Land, awake! And Adam, rude image of the returned king, lowered the birch branch to their white pupils. And on them he laid his hands, as, groaning and moaning they seated themselves in the dust and with trembling hands pushed chunks of black bread into their mouths. Their faces were ashen and menacing, lit with the pale light of deadly clouds. Lightning blazed, their blinded faces blazed. Oh, if only they opened their eyes, oh, if only they saw the light! Adam, Adam, you stand illumined by lightnings. Now you lay the gentle branch upon their faces. Adam, Adam, say, see, see! And he restores their sight. But the blind men turning their ashen faces and opening their white eyes did not see. And the wind whispered "Thou art behind the hill." From the clouds a fiery veil began to shimmer and died out. A little birch murmured, beseeching, and fell asleep. The dusk dispersed at the horizon and a bloody stump of the sunset stuck up. And spotted with brilliant coals glowing red, the bast streamed out from the sunset like a striped cloak. On the waxen image of Adam the field grass wreaths sighed fearfully giving a soft whistle and the green dewy clusters sprinkled forth fiery tears on the blind faces of the blind. He knew what he was doing, he was restoring their sight. ("Adam")

Andrei Bely
the-bast-dispersing-in-shreds-in-sunset-whispered-time-has-begun-the-son-adam-stripped-naked-descended-into-old-testament-his-native-land-arrayed-himself-in-bast-wreath-roadside-
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