Adoring Quotes (page 4)
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Never did I see such an affecting Scene as was the meeting of Edward and Augustus.'My Life! my Soul!' (exclaimed the former). 'My Adorable Angel!' (replied the latter) as they flew into each other's arms. It was too pathetic for the feelings of Sophia and myself -- We fainted alternately on a sofa.
Jane Austen
Any closer would unravel her mystery, the very thing which made her so truly beautiful...It was her mystery that he adored. He was in love with everything that he did not know about her... No real sexual encounter could ever match the secret one that he could nurture in his imagination... No living flesh could ever be the erotic equal of flesh kept private, untouchable and unknowable
Ben Elton
Much has been said about Robert, and more will be added. Young men will adopt his gait. Young girls will wear white dresses and mourn his curls. He will be condemned and adored. His excesses damned or romanticized. In the end, truth will be found in his work, the corporeal body of the artist. It will not fall away. Man cannot judge it. For art sings of God, and ultimately belongs to him.
Patti Smith
Automn ill and adored. You die when the hurricane blows in the roseries. When it has snowed. In the orchard trees. Poor automn Dead in whiteness and riches. Of snow and ripe fruits. Deep in the sky. The sparrow hawks cry. Over the sprites with green hair dwarfs. Who've never been loved. Inthe far tree-lines. The stags are groaning. And how I love O season how I love your rumbling. The falling fruits that no one gathers. The wind in the forest that are tumbling. All their tears in automn leaf...
Guillaume Apollinaire
One thing at a time,' said the Boy. 'You must be patient. This is a day of hope and wild revenge. Do not interrupt me. I am a courier from another world. I bring you golden words. Listen!' said the Boy. 'Where I come from there is no more fear. But there is a roaring and a bellowing and a cracking of bones. And sometimes there is silence when, lolling on your thrones, your slaves adore you.
Mervyn Peake
she imagined how in the chambers of the mind and heart of the woman who was, physically, touching her, were stood, like the treasures in the tombs of kings, tablets bearing sacred inscriptions, which if one could spell them out, would teach one everything, but they would never be offered openly, never made public. What art was there, known to love or cunning, by which one pressed through into those secret chambers? What device for becoming, like waters poured into one jar, inextricably the...
Virginia Woolf
