Dimmed 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
when-stars-are-dimmed-attakwir-2
the-blooddimmed-tide-is-loosed-william-butler-yeats
and-he-dimmed-its-night-brought-out-its-daylight-naziat-29
today-the-whole-sky-is-dimmed-by-impenetrable-sadness
colleges-are-places-where-pebbles-are-polished-diamonds-are-dimmed-robert-green-ingersoll
it-is-only-in-our-darkest-hours-that-we-may-discover-true-strength-brilliant-light-within-ourselves-that-can-never-ever-be-dimmed-doe-zantamata
his-eyes-were-dimmed-with-tears-looking-humbly-up-to-heaven-he-wept-for-innocence-he-had-lost-james-joyce
rome-in-ages-dimmed-with-all-her-towers-floats-in-mist-little-cloud-at-tether-alice-meynell
was-it-case-that-colours-dimmed-as-eye-grew-elderly-or-was-it-rather-that-in-youth-your-excitement-about-world-transferred-itself-onto-everything-you-saw-made-it-brighter-julian-
in-good-company-sitting-by-you-in-this-dark-room-with-dimmed-lights-on-either-side-like-tsunami-tidal-wave-ripping-me-up-inside-the-day-after-the-end
i-care-not-how-worldly-you-may-be-there-are-times-when-all-distinctions-seem-like-dust-when-at-graves-great-you-dream-coming-country-where-your-proudest-hopes-shall-be-dimmed-for
o-cloudpale-eyelids-dreamdimmed-eyesthe-poets-labouring-all-their-daysto-build-perfect-beauty-in-rhymeare-overthrown-by-womans-gaze-william-butler-yeats
mere-anarchy-is-loosed-upon-world-blooddimmed-tide-is-loosed-everywhere-ceremony-innocence-is-drowned-william-butler-yeats
how-bittersweet-it-is-on-winters-night-to-listen-by-sputtering-smoking-fire-as-distant-memories-through-fogdimmed-light-rise-to-muffled-chime-charles-baudelaire
people-who-make-use-all-their-senses-in-trying-times-are-no-less-patriotic-than-those-whose-restraint-is-lost-whose-senses-are-dimmed-whose-brains-are-washed-this-is-also-time-fo
our-lives-pass-from-us-like-wind-whyshould-wise-men-grieve-to-know-that-they-must-diethe-judas-blossom-fades-lovely-faceof-light-is-dimmed-abolqasem-ferdowsi
love-longs-to-be-free-stranger-to-every-worldly-desire-lest-its-inner-vision-become-dimmed-lest-worldly-selfinterest-hinder-it-illfortune-cast-it-thomas-kempis
did-you-never-call-i-waited-for-your-call-these-rivers-suggestion-are-driving-me-away-the-ocean-sang-conversations-dimmed-go-build-yourself-another-rem
the-wanderer-what-is-she-like-i-was-told-she-is-melancholy-soul-she-is-like-sun-to-night-momentary-gold-a-star-when-dimmed-by-dawning-light-flicker-candle-blown-a-lonely-kite-los
love-is-mighty-power-great-complete-good-love-alone-lightens-every-burden-makes-rough-places-smooth-it-bears-every-hardship-as-though-it-were-nothing-renders-all-bitterness-sweet
LOOKING-GLASS, n. A vitreous plane upon which to display a fleeting show for man's disillusion given. The King of Manchuria had a magic looking-glass, whereon whoso looked saw, not his own image, but only that of the king. A certain courtier who had long enjoyed the king's favor and was thereby enriched beyond any other subject of the realm, said to the king: "Give me, I pray, thy wonderful mirror, so that when absent out of thine august presence I may yet do homage before thy visible shadow, prostrating myself night and morning in the glory of thy benign countenance, as which nothing has so divine splendor, O Noonday Sun of the Universe!" Please with the speech, the king commanded that the mirror be conveyed to the courtier's palace; but after, having gone thither without apprisal, he found it in an apartment where was naught but idle lumber. And the mirror was dimmed with dust and overlaced with cobwebs. This so angered him that he fisted it hard, shattering the glass, and was sorely hurt. Enraged all the more by this mischance, he commanded that the ungrateful courtier be thrown into prison, and that the glass be repaired and taken back to his own palace; and this was done. But when the king looked again on the mirror he saw not his image as before, but only the figure of a crowned ass, having a bloody bandage on one of its hinder hooves --as the artificers and all who had looked upon it had before discerned but feared to report. Taught wisdom and charity, the king restored his courtier to liberty, had the mirror set into the back of the throne and reigned many years with justice and humility; and one day when he fell asleep in death while on the throne, the whole court saw in the mirror the luminous figure of an angel, which remains to this day.

Ambrose Bierce
lookingglass-n-a-vitreous-plane-upon-which-to-display-fleeting-show-for-mans-disillusion-given-the-king-manchuria-had-magic-lookingglass-whereon-whoso-looked-saw-not-his-own-imag
Two kisses in one kiss was all it took, a comfort, a warmth, perhaps temporary, perhaps false, but reassuring nonetheless, and mine, and theirs, ours, all three of us giggling, insane giggles and laughter with still more kisses on the way, and I remember a brief instant then, out of the blue, when I suddenly glimpsed my own father, a rare but oddly peaceful recollection, as if he actually approved of my play in the way he himself had always laughed and played, great updrafts of light, burning off distant plateaus of bistre & sage, throwing him up like an angel, high above the red earth, deep into the sparkling blank, the tender sky that never once let him down, preserving his attachment to youth, propriety and kindness, his plane almost, but never quite, outracing his whoops of joy, trailing him in his sudden turn to the wind, followed then by a near vertical climb up to the angles of the sun, and I was barely eight and still with him and yes, that was the thought that flickered madly through me, a brief instant of communion, possessing me with warmth and ageless ease, causing me to smile again and relax as if memory alone could lift the heart like the wind lifts a wing, and so I renewed my kisses with even greater enthusiasm, caressing and in turn devouring their dark lips, dark with wine and fleeting love, an ancient memory love had promised but finally never gave, until there were too many kisses to count or remember, and the memory of love proved not love at all and needed a replacement, which our bodies found, and then the giggles subsided, and the laughter dimmed, and darkness enfolded all of us and we gave away our childhood for nothing and we died and condoms littered the floor and Christina threw up in the sink and Amber chuckled a little and kissed me a little more, but in a way that told me it was time to leave.

Mark Z. Danielewski
two-kisses-in-one-kiss-was-all-it-took-comfort-warmth-perhaps-temporary-perhaps-false-but-reassuring-nonetheless-mine-theirs-ours-all-three-us-giggling-insane-giggles-laughter-wi
Could I but acquaint the world with Robert G. Ingersoll's humanity, with his ideas and his sentiments of love, patience and understanding, a renascence would automatically take place that would give life and living on this little earth of ours some semblance of what we call paradise. And this great and wonderful man had to die! I do not know the purpose of life, nor do I understand why death should come to all that is; but this I do know - that when Robert G. Ingersoll died, on July 21, 1899, then you and I, and the whole world, suffered a mortal blow. When the mighty heart, of his mighty body, that supplied the blood to his mighty brain, burst, never again was there to fall from his eloquent lips the pearls of thought that had been so wondrously formed in his brain. The mightiest voice in all the world was silenced, forever. No wonder the people wept when they heard that Ingersoll was dead. He was the greatest of the Great - the Mightiest of the Mighty. He was 'as constant as the Northern Star whose true fixed and resting quality there is no fellow in the firmament.' He was the indistinguishable star whose brilliance never dimmed. When Robert G. Ingersoll died, his death was 'the ruins of the noblest man that ever lived in the tide of time... When shall we ever see another?' When Robert G. Ingersoll died, the sky should have been rent asunder, and Nature should have gone into mourning. When this man died, Nature's masterpiece was destroyed, and hot tears of grief should have fallen from the heavens. Robert G. Ingersoll no longer belongs to his family; He no longer belongs to his friends; He no longer belongs to his country; Robert G. Ingersoll now belongs to all the world - the whole universe - He is immortal and eternal. Among the galaxies of Nature's masterpieces, none shine with a greater brilliance than the babe who was born in this house 121 years ago today, and named Robert Green Ingersoll.

Joseph Lewis
could-i-but-acquaint-world-with-robert-g-ingersolls-humanity-with-his-ideas-his-sentiments-love-patience-understanding-renascence-would-automatically-take-place-that-would-give-l
Paine suffered then, as now he suffers not so much because of what he wrote as from the misinterpretations of others... He disbelieved the ancient myths and miracles taught by established creeds. But the attacks on those creeds - or on persons devoted to them - have served to darken his memory, casting a shadow across the closing years of his life. When Theodore Roosevelt termed Tom Paine a 'dirty little atheist' he surely spoke from lack of understanding. It was a stricture, an inaccurate charge of the sort that has dimmed the greatness of this eminent American. But the true measure of his stature will yet be appreciated. The torch which he handed on will not be extinguished. If Paine had ceased his writings with 'The Rights of Man' he would have been hailed today as one of the two or three outstanding figures of the Revolution. But 'The Age of Reason' cost him glory at the hands of his countrymen - a greater loss to them than to Tom Paine. I was always interested in Paine the inventor. He conceived and designed the iron bridge and the hollow candle; the principle of the modern central draught burner. The man had a sort of universal genius. He was interested in a diversity of things; but his special creed, his first thought, was liberty. Traducers have said that he spent his last days drinking in pothouses. They have pictured him as a wicked old man coming to a sorry end. But I am persuaded that Paine must have looked with magnanimity and sorrow on the attacks of his countrymen. That those attacks have continued down to our day, with scarcely any abatement, is an indication of how strong prejudice, when once aroused, may become. It has been a custom in some quarters to hold up Paine as an example of everything bad. The memory of Tom Paine will outlive all this. No man who helped to lay the foundations of our liberty - who stepped forth as the champion of so difficult a cause - can be permanently obscured by such attacks. Tom Paine should be read by his countrymen. I commend his fame to their hands. {The Philosophy of Paine, June 7, 1925}

Thomas A. Edison
paine-suffered-then-as-now-he-suffers-not-much-because-what-he-wrote-as-from-misinterpretations-others-he-disbelieved-ancient-myths-miracles-taught-by-established-creeds-but-atta
I WANT her though, to take the same from me. She touches me as if I were herself, her own. She has not realized yet, that fearful thing, that I am the other, she thinks we are all of one piece. It is painfully untrue. I want her to touch me at last, ah, on the root and quick of my darkness and perish on me, as I have perished on her. Then, we shall be two and distinct, we shall have each our separate being. And that will be pure existence, real liberty. Till then, we are confused, a mixture, unresolved, unextricated one from the other. It is in pure, unutterable resolvedness, distinction of being, that one is free, not in mixing, merging, not in similarity. When she has put her hand on my secret, darkest sources, the darkest outgoings, when it has struck home to her, like a death, "this is _him!_" she has no part in it, no part whatever, it is the terrible _other_, when she knows the fearful _other flesh_, ah, dark- ness unfathomable and fearful, contiguous and concrete, when she is slain against me, and lies in a heap like one outside the house, when she passes away as I have passed away being pressed up against the _other_, then I shall be glad, I shall not be confused with her, I shall be cleared, distinct, single as if burnished in silver, having no adherence, no adhesion anywhere, one clear, burnished, isolated being, unique, and she also, pure, isolated, complete, two of us, unutterably distinguished, and in unutterable conjunction. Then we shall be free, freer than angels, ah, perfect. VIII AFTER that, there will only remain that all men detach themselves and become unique, that we are all detached, moving in freedom more than the angels, conditioned only by our own pure single being, having no laws but the laws of our own being. Every human being will then be like a flower, untrammelled. Every movement will be direct. Only to be will be such delight, we cover our faces when we think of it lest our faces betray us to some untimely fiend. Every man himself, and therefore, a surpassing singleness of mankind. The blazing tiger will spring upon the deer, un-dimmed, the hen will nestle over her chickens, we shall love, we shall hate, but it will be like music, sheer utterance, issuing straight out of the unknown, the lightning and the rainbow appearing in us unbidden, unchecked, like ambassadors. We shall not look before and after. We shall _be_, _now_. We shall know in full. We, the mystic NOW. (From the poem the Manifesto)

D.H. Lawrence
i-want-her-though-to-take-same-from-me-she-touches-me-as-if-i-were-herself-her-own-she-has-not-realized-yet-that-fearful-thing-that-i-am-other-she-thinks-we-are-all-one-piece-it-