#fog

A week of sweeping fogs has passed over and given me a strange sense of exile and desolation. I walk round the island nearly every day, yet I can see nothing anywhere but a mass of wet rock, a strip of surf, and then a tumult of waves. ↗

— John Millington Synge

#day #desolation #every #every day #exile

In nature, everything has a job. The job of the fog is to beautify further the existing beauties! ↗

— Mehmet Murat ildan

#beauty

I returned to the courtyard and saw that the sun had grown weaker. Beautiful and clear as it had been, the morning (as the day approached the completion of its first half) was becoming damp and misty. Heavy clouds moved from the north and were invading the top of the mountain, covering it with a light brume. It seemed to be fog, and perhaps fog was also rising from the ground, but at that altitude it was difficult to distinguish the mists that rose from below and those that come down from above. It was becoming hard to discern the bulk of the more distant buildings. ↗

— Umberto Eco

#mist #morning #seeing #beauty

Don’t let the agony, regret, or fog of yesterday blind you to the fact that each new day carries with it a plethora of opportunities to move your life into the right direction. ↗

— Steve Maraboli

#dreams #fog #goals #life #opportunities

Desire is like fog on a bathroom mirror -- its presence incites you to wipe the mirror, and see yourself clearly again. ↗

— Vera Nazarian

#fog #mirror #perception #inspirational

The fog was where I wanted to be. Halfway down the path you can’t see this house. You’d never know it was here. Or any of the other places down the avenue. I couldn’t see but a few feet ahead. I didn’t meet a soul. Everything looked and sounded unreal. Nothing was what it is. That’s what I wanted—to be alone with myself in another world where truth is untrue and life can hide from itself. Out beyond the harbor, where the road runs along the beach, I even lost the feeling of being on land. The fog and the sea seemed part of each other. It was like walking on the bottom of the sea. As if I had drowned long ago. As if I was the ghost belonging to the fog, and the fog was the ghost of the sea. It felt damned peaceful to be nothing more than a ghost within a ghost. ↗

— Eugene O'Neill

#fog #ghost #ghosts #ocean #sea

In our passage from the Cape of Good Hope the winds were mostly from the westward with very boisterous weather: but one great advantage that this season of the year has over the summer months is in being free from fogs. ↗

— William Bligh

#being #boisterous #cape #fogs #free

Even as fog continues to lie in the valleys, so does ancient sin cling to the low places, the depressions in the world consciousness. ↗

— Dewitt Bodeen

#cling #consciousness #continues #depressions #does

Also, as I lay there thinking of my vision, I could see it all again and feel the meaning with a part of me like a strange power glowing in my body; but when the part of me that talks would try to make words for the meaning, it would be like fog and get away from me. ↗

— Black Elk

#also #away #body #could #feel

Composing is like driving down a foggy road toward a house. Slowly you see more details of the house-the color of the slates and bricks, the shape of the windows. The notes are the bricks and the mortar of the house. ↗

— Benjamin Britten

#color #composing #details #down #driving