Waft 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
one-my-principal-childhood-memories-is-hearing-one-liszt-hungarian-rhapsodies-waft-throughout-house
o-stareyed-science-hast-thou-wanderd-there-to-waft-us-home-message-despair-thomas-campbell
still-i-would-have-hugged-my-mother-if-we-were-kind-family-who-hugged-if-touching-her-werent-impossible-if-her-subnightie-waft-was-not-utterly-fatally-repulsive-thats-how-much-i-
flowers-are-bright-remembrances-youth-they-waft-us-back-with-their-bland-odorous-breath-joyous-hours-that-only-young-life-knows-ere-we-have-learnt-marguerite-gardiner
i-love-that-moment-remember-when-i-love-to-waft
when-it-comes-to-generating-writing-material-teenagers-are-gold-their-world-is-narcissistic-anarchic-paranoid-hell-anxieties-stresses-about-how-they-look-how-popular-they-are-are
Ah, I believe Schacht. Only too willingly; that's to say, I think what he says is absolutely true, for the world is incomprehensibly crass, tyrannical, moody, and cruel to sickly and sensitive people. Well, Schacht will stay here for the time being. We laughed at him a bit, when he arrived, that can't be helped either, Schacht is young and after all can't be allowed to think there are special degrees, advantages, methods, and considerations for him. He has now had his first disappointment, and I'm convinced that he'll have twenty disappointments, one after the other. Life with its savage laws is in any case for certain people a succession of discouragements and terrifying bad impressions. People like Schacht are born to feel and suffer a continuous sense of aversion. He would like to admit and welcome things, but he just can't. Hardness and lack of compassion strike him with tenfold force, he just feels them more acutely. Poor Schacht. He's a child and he should be able to revel in melodies and bed himself in kind, soft, carefree things. For him there should be secret splashings and birdsong. Pale and delicate evening clouds should waft him away in the kingdom of Ah, What's Happening to Me? His hands are made for light gestures, not for work. Before him breezes should blow, and behind him sweet, friendly voices should be whispering. His eyes should be allowed to remain blissfully closed, and Schacht should be allowed to go quietly to sleep again, after being wakened in the morning in the warm, sensuous cushions. For him there is, at root, no proper activity, for every activity is for him, the way he is, improper, unnatural, and unsuitable. Compared with Schacht I'm the trueblue rawboned laborer. Ah, he'll be crushed, and one day he'll die in a hospital. or he'll perish, ruined in body and soul, inside one of our modern prisons.

Robert Walser
ah-i-believe-schacht-only-too-willingly-thats-to-say-i-think-what-he-says-is-absolutely-true-for-world-is-incomprehensibly-crass-tyrannical-moody-cruel-to-sickly-sensitive-people
All at once, something wonderful happened, although at first, it seemed perfectly ordinary. A female goldfinch suddenly hove into view. She lighted weightlessly on the head of a bankside purple thistle and began emptying the seedcase, sowing the air with down. The lighted frame of my window filled. The down rose and spread in all directions, wafting over the dam's waterfall and wavering between the tulip trunks and into the meadow. It vaulted towards the orchard in a puff; it hovered over the ripening pawpaw fruit and staggered up the steep faced terrace. It jerked, floated, rolled, veered, swayed. The thistle down faltered down toward the cottage and gusted clear to the woods; it rose and entered the shaggy arms of pecans. At last it strayed like snow, blind and sweet, into the pool of the creek upstream, and into the race of the creek over rocks down. It shuddered onto the tips of growing grasses, where it poised, light, still wracked by errant quivers. I was holding my breath. Is this where we live, I thought, in this place in this moment, with the air so light and wild? The same fixity that collapses stars and drives the mantis to devour her mate eased these creatures together before my eyes: the thick adept bill of the goldfinch, and the feathery coded down. How could anything be amiss? If I myself were lighter and frayed, I could ride these small winds, too, taking my chances, for the pleasure of being so purely played. The thistle is part of Adam's curse. 'Cursed is the ground for thy sake, in sorrow shalt thou eat of it; thorns also and thistles shall it bring forth to thee.' A terrible curse: But does the goldfinch eat thorny sorrow with the thistle or do I? If this furling air is fallen, then the fall was happy indeed. If this creekside garden is sorrow, then I seek martyrdom. I was weightless; my bones were taut skins blown with buoyant gas; it seemed that if I inhaled too deeply, my shoulders and head would waft off. Alleluia.

Annie Dillard
all-at-once-something-wonderful-happened-although-at-first-it-seemed-perfectly-ordinary-a-female-goldfinch-suddenly-hove-into-view-she-lighted-weightlessly-on-head-bankside-purpl
?Earn cash when you save a quote by clicking
EARNED Load...
LEVEL : Load...