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Dew Quotes (page 4)

In you is the illusion of each day. You arrive like the dew to the cupped flowers. You undermine the horizon with your absence. Eternally in flight like the wave. Pablo Neruda
And now I'm back outside again sitting in the white plastic chair looking at the dew on the gas cap of my car. A fly wants to bit me on the ankle. The mosquitoes are all asleep. They're just not out at this hour. Only one biting fly. And a mourning dove, who blows through his thumbs to make that sound. Nicholson Baker
Stories are like spiders, with all they long legs, and stories are like spiderwebs, which man gets himself all tangled up in but which look pretty when you see them under a leaf in the morning dew, and in the elegant way that they connect to one another, each to each. Neil Gaiman
THE ROBINO Robin, sing! for the secret of eternity is in song. I wish I were as you, free from prisons and chains. I wish I were as you; a soul flying over the valleys, Sipping the light as wine is sipped from ethereal cups. I wish I were asyou, innocent, contented and happy. Ignoring the future and forgetting the past. I wish I were as you in beauty, grace and elegance. With the wind spreading my wings for adornment by the dew. I wish I were as you in beauty, a thought floating above the... Khalil Gibran
Count up the almonds, Count what was bitter and kept you waking, Count me in too: I sought your eye when you glanced up and no one would see you, I spun that secret thread Where the dew you mused on Slid down to pitchers Tended by a word that reached no one’s heart. There you first fully entered the name that is yours, you stepped to yourself on steady feet, the hammers swung free in the belfry of your silence, things overheard thrust through to you, what’s dead put it’s arm around you... Paul Celan
John Keats quote: "I see a lily on thy brow, With anguish moist and fever dew;..."
I see a lily on thy brow, With anguish moist and fever dew; And on thy cheek a fading rose. Fast withereth too. John Keats
But just let me tell you something, son, a woman's love is like the morning dew, it's just as apt to settle on a horse turd as it is on a rose. So you better just get over it. Larry McMurtry
What did the onion juice do? It did what the world and the sorrows of the world could not do: it brought forth a round, human tear. It made them cry. At last they could cry again. To cry properly, without restraint, to cry like mad. The tears flowed and washed everything away. The rain came. The dew. Oskar has a vision of floodgates opening. Of dams bursting in the spring floods. What is the name of that river that overflows every spring and the government does nothing to stop it? Gunter Grass
hither, hither, from thy home, airy sprite, i bid thee come! born of roses, fed on dew, charms and potions canst thow brew? bring me here, with elfin speed, the fragment philter witch i need; make it sweet and swift and stong, spirite amserw now my songhither i come, from my airy home, afar silver moon. take magic spell, and use it well. or its powers will vanish soon! Louisa May Alcott
These are the four that are never content: that have never been filled since the dew began-Jacala's mouth, and the glut of the kite, and the hands of the ape, and the eyes of Man. Rudyard Kipling
Khalil Gibran quote: "For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning..."
For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed. Khalil Gibran
Friedrich Nietzsche quote: "What have we in common with the rosebud, which trembles..."
What have we in common with the rosebud, which trembles because a drop of dew is lying upon it? Friedrich Nietzsche
Joyce Kilmer quote: "The fairy poet takes a sheet. Of moonbeam, silver white; His..."
The fairy poet takes a sheet. Of moonbeam, silver white; His ink is dew from daisies sweet, His pen a point of light. Joyce Kilmer
As wicked dew as e'er my mother brushed. With raven's feather from unwholesom fen. Drop on you both! A southwest blow on ye. And blister you all o'er! William Shakespeare
A perfectly healthy sentence, it is true, is extremely rare. For the most part we miss the hue and fragrance of the thought; as if we could be satisfied with the dews of the morning or evening without their colors, or the heavens without their azure. Henry David Thoreau

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