#mirror

A palindrome is a word or pattern that instead of developing in different directions it folds in on itself so that the beginning and end mirror each other, that they are the same. ↗

— Todd Solondz

#developing #different #different directions #directions #each

When I draw a character, very often as I'm doing a face, my face mirrors the expression. ↗

— Matthew Ashford

#doing #draw #expression #face #i

I keep both of my Tonys on my mantle. They're in front of a mirror so if you look at just the right angle, it looks like I have four! ↗

— Swoosie Kurtz

#both #four #front #i #just

Staring and staring into the mirror, it sees many faces within its face - the face of the child, the boy, the young man, the not-so-young man - all present still, preserved like fossils on superimposed layers, and, like fossils, dead. Their message to this live dying creature is: Look at us - we have died - what is there to be afraid of? It answers them: But that happened so gradually, so easily. I'm afraid of being rushed. ↗

— Christopher Isherwood

#dying #face #living #mirror #age

The frame of the mirror was a deep mahogany and carved with an intricate design of what appeared in the dim light to be leaves and vines. The mirror’s surface was clouded with dust and age, so much that Quinn could not even see his own reflection. On impulse, he rubbed a small circle with the back of his wrist but beneath the dust the glass was still milky and unclear. ~ "The Mirror ↗

— Cassie McCown

#christmas-lites #paranormal #short-story #the-mirror #ya

Poetry looking in the mirror sees art, and art looking in a mirror sings poetry. ↗

— Aberjhani

#art-and-the-soul #creative-genius #creativity #famous-quotes-by-famous-poets #mirrors

To whom pursuit beauty only have to see their reflection in the mirror because you are a child of god and there is no more beauty in that ↗

— Vira Luna

#childd #god #mirror #beauty

Her eyes were of different colors, the left as brown as autumn, the right as gray as Atlantic wind. Both seemed alive with questions that would never be voiced, as if no words yet existed with which to frame them. She was nineteen years old, or thereabouts; her exact age was unknown. Her face was as fresh as an apple and as delicate as blossom, but a marked depression in the bones beneath her left eye gave her features a disturbing asymmetry. Her mouth never curved into a smile. God, it seemed, had withheld that possibility, as surely as from a blind man the power of sight. He had withheld much else. Amparo was touched—by genius, by madness, by the Devil, or by a conspiracy of all these and more. She took no sacraments and appeared incapable of prayer. She had a horror of clocks and mirrors. By her own account she spoke with Angels and could hear the thoughts of animals and trees. She was passionately kind to all living things. She was a beam of starlight trapped in flesh and awaiting only the moment when it would continue on its journey into forever.” (p.33) ↗

— Tim Willocks

#apple #asymmetry #atlantic #autumn #blind-man

From mirror to mirror — this is what I happen to dream of — the totality of things, the whole, the entire universe, divine wisdom could concentrate their luminous rays into a single mirror. Or perhaps the knowledge of everything is buried in the soul, and a system of mirrors that would multiply my image would then reveal to me the soul of the universe, which is hidden in mine. ↗

— Italo Calvino

#soul #universe #dreams

The whole purpose of education is to turn mirrors into windows. ↗

— Sydney J. Harris

#into #mirrors #purpose #turn #whole