Belgarath and Garion effortlessly hurdled over the driftwood and loped off into the fog. "It's going to be a wet day," Garion noted soundlessly as he ran alongside the great silver wolf. "Your fur won't melt. " "I know, but my paws get cold when they're wet. " "I'll have Durnik make you some little booties. " "That would be absolutely ridiculous, Grandfather," Garion said indignantly.
I hope,” he replies softly, “to get to know you again. If you are open to it. There is a fog around you that I would like to clear away.
Truth is a torch which gleams in the fog but does not dispel it.
You'll be bothered from time to time by storms, fog, snow. When you are, think of those who went through it before you, and say to yourself, 'What they could do, I can do. '
The girl had hoped for fog, but the gods ignored her prayers as gods so often did.
One of the things I keep reminding players is that when you're lost in a fog, you must stick together. Then you don't get lost. If there's a secret about Liverpool, that's it.
The science hangs like a gathering fog in a valley, a fog which begins nowhere and goes nowhere, an incidental, unmeaning inconvenience to passers-by.
Truth is the torch that gleams through the fog without dispelling it.
Thorns may hurt you, men desert you, sunlight turn to fog; but you're never friendless ever, if you have a dog.
The mist starts to form as we stand close to one another. It is a distant fog that rises from the horizon, and I find that I grow fearful as it approaches. It slowly creeps in, enveloping the world around us, fencing us in as if to prevent escape. Like a rolling cloud, it blankets everything, closing, until there is nothing left but the two of us.
It's a miserable life in Hollywood. You're up at five or six o'clock in the morning to be ready to start shooting at nine.
There it is, fog, atmospheric moisture still uncertain in destination, not quite weather and not altogether mood, yet partaking of both.
How many people came and stayed a certain time, Uttered light or dark speech that became part of you Like light behind windblown fog and sand Filtered and influenced by it, until no part Remains that is surely you.
Before Turner there was no fog in London.
I'm one of those writers who can't talk about what they're working on. The entire four years I was writing 'House of Sand and Fog,' my wife never saw a word of it. I just have to keep it in the womb, and then everyone can have a crack at it.
Instead of always asking yourself how to clear up your mental fog, learn to ask: "Can confusion know anything about clarity?"
Simon had drawn three pictures. In the top left corner, like a salutation, was a ghost. The middle had a big sketch of Arnold Schwarzenegger as the Terminator. The third in place of a signature, was a lightning bolt surrounded by fog. Beside the drawing, someone had scrawled in inch-high letters 10 A. M. Tori snatched it from me and turned it over. "So where's the message?" "Right there. " I pointed from picture to picture. "It says: Chloe, I'll be back, Simon.
It seems a long time since the morning mail could be called correspondence.
Water is everywhere and in all living things; we cannot be seperated from water. No water, no life. Period. Water comes in many forms - liquid, vapor, ice, snow, fog, rain, hail. But no matter the form, it's still water.
But something occurred to me as I sped through that dirty shroud of fog, something Vonnegut has been trying to explain to the rest of us for most of his life. And that is this: Despair is a form of hope. It is an acknowledgment of the distance between ourselves and our appointed happiness. At certain moments, it is reason enough to live.