This labour of the artist to discover a means of apprehending beneath matter and experience, beneath words, something different from their appearance, is of an exactly contrary nature to the operation in which pride, passion, intelligence and habit are constantly engaged within us when we spend our lives without self-communion, accumulating as though to hide our true impressions, the terminology for practical ends which we falsely call life.
Beneath the Sacred Host, Christ is contained, the Redeemer of the world
Now I am nothing but a veil; all my body is a veil beneath which a child sleeps.
All art is at once surface and symbol. Those who go beneath the surface do so at their peril.
Give me the clear blue sky above my head, and the green turf beneath my feet, a winding road before me, and a three hours' march to dinner - and then to thinking!
Oh, treacherous night thou lendest thy ready veil to every treason, and teeming mischief's beneath thy shade.
The path is always right beneath your feet.
If growing up means it would be beneath my dignity to climb a tree, I'll never grow up, never grow up, never grow up! Not me!
one pale woman all alone, The daylight kissing her wan hair, Loitered beneath the gas lamps' flare, With lips of flame and heart of stone.
Get yourself to a vantage point of seclusion and view the world with your eyes alone. Think of the infinite spaces of the skies and the world beneath.
Masks beneath masks until suddenly the bare bloodless skull.
You have got to be loyal to people beneath you.
If you go to your death rather than do everything you might to prevent what is happening, you are merely committing suicide and trying to make yourself feel better about it. That is the act of a coward. It is beneath contempt.
Beneath this mask of selfish tranquility nothing exists except bitterness and boredom. I am one of those whom suffering has made empty and frivilous: each night in my dreams I pull the scab off a wound; each day, vacuous and habit ridden, I let it reform.
In the glass burrow beneath their feet, the flames began to rise. First the flames, and then the screams
Scar tissue has no character. It's not like skin. It doesn't show age or illness or pallor or tan. It has no pores, no hair, no wrinkles. It's like a slip cover. It shields and disguises what's beneath. That's why we grow it; we have something to hide.
He took both of my hands, twisting to face me more fully on the flattened box beneath us, and again the colors in his irises seemed to pulse with my heartbeat.
Beneath the stains of time the feeling disappears, you are someone else I am still right here.
When I say: "I'm looking at you, I can see you", that means: "I can see you because I can't see what is behind you: I see you through the frame I am drawing. I can't see inside you". If I could see you from beneath or from behind, I would be God. I can see you because my back and my sides are blind. One can't even imagine what it would be like to see inside people.
Every time I scratch apathy, I find powerlessness beneath it. Humans care, they just don't know what to do about it.