Dew Quotes (page 3)
-
-
-
Her fine high forehead sloped gently up to where her hair, bordering it like an armorial shield, burst into lovelocks and waves and curlicues of ash blonde and gold. Her eyes were bright, big, clear, wet and shining, the colour of her cheeks was real, breaking close to the surface from the strong young pump of her heart. Her body hovered delicately on the last edge of childhood -- she was almost eighteen, nearly complete, but the dew was still on her.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
And down I went to fetch my bride: But, Alice, you were ill at ease; This dress and that by turns you tried, Too fearful that you should not please. I loved you better for your fears, I knew you could not look but well; And dews, that would have fall'n in tears, I kiss'd away before they fell.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
If you come as softly. As wind within the trees. You may hear what I hear. See what sorrow sees. If you come as lightly. As threading dew. I will take you gladly. Nor ask more of you. You may sit beside me. Silent as a breath. Only those who stay dead. Shall remember death. And if you come I will be silent. Nor speak harsh words to you. I will not ask you why, now. Or how, or what you do. We shall sit here, softly. Beneath two different years. And the rich earth between us. Shall drink our...
Audre Lorde
PUCK
How now, spirit! whither wander you?
FAIRY
Over hill, over dale,
Through bush, through brier,
Over park, over pale,
Through flood, through fire,
I do wander everywhere,
Swifter than the moon's sphere;
And I serve the fairy queen,
To dew her orbs upon the green.
The cowslips tall her pensioners be:
In their gold coats spots you see;
Those be rubies, fairy favours,
In those freckles live their savours:
I must go seek some dewdrops here
And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.
Farewell,...
William Shakespeare
In times when history still moved slowly, events were few and far between and easily committed to memory. They formed a commonly accepted BACKDROP for thrilling scenes of adventure in private life. Nowadays, history moves at a brisk clip. A historical event, though soon forgotten, sparkles the morning after with the dew of novelty. No longer a backdrop, it is now the ADVENTURE itself, an adventure enacted before the backdrop of the commonly accepted banality of private life. The...
Milan Kundera
O, that this too too solid flesh would melt. Thaw and resolve itself into a dew! Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd. His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! God! How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable, (135)Seem to me all the uses of this world! Fie on't! ah fie! 'tis an unweeded garden, That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature. Possess it merely. That it should come to this! But two months dead: nay, not so much, not two: (140)So excellent a king; that was, to this,
William Shakespeare
But words are things and a small drop of ink, Falling like a dew, upon a thought produces. That which makes thousands, perhaps millions think;'Tis strange, the shortest letter which man uses. Instead of speech, may form a lasting link. Of ages; to what straits old Time reduces. Frail man, when paper - even a rag like this -, Survives himself, his tomb and all that's his.
George Byron