Damp Quotes - Page 5

• If, Sir, I possessed the power of conveying unlimited sexual attraction through the potency of my voice, I would not be reduced to accepting a miserable pittance from the BBC for interviewing a faded female in a damp basement.

  Gilbert Harding

  Voice, Female, Interviews

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• I do have bad hair days. If I fall asleep with it slightly damp, I wake up and it'll all be piled up on top in a mess.

  Georgia May Jagger

  Fall, Hair, Wake Up

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• Work is the vessel into which we pour so much of ourselves hope and disappointment, elation and rage, satisfaction and frustration. Yet any damp display of these emotions is seen as weakness.

  Lisa Belkin

  Disappointment, Work, Frustration

  Lisa Belkin (2003). “Life's Work: Confessions of an Unbalanced Mom”, p.105, Simon and Schuster

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• Great collections of books are subject to certain accidents besides the damp, the worms, and the rats; one not less common is that of the borrowers, not to say a word of the purloiners

  Isaac D'Israeli

  Book, Rats, Common

  "Hoyt's New Cyclopedia Of Practical Quotations" by Jehiel Keeler Hoyt, p. 81, Curiosities of Literature, The Bibliomania, 1922.

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• My new city [Seattle] and its hinterland felt deceptively homely. Their similar latitude gave them the angular light and lingering evenings I was used to. Their damp marine weather, blowing in from the southwest, came in the right direction. When the mountains are hidden under a low sky, one might almost imagine oneself to be in Britain.

  Jonathan Raban

  Marine, Sky, Cities

  Jonathan Raban (2017). “Driving Home: An American Scrapbook”, p.12, Pan Macmillan

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• Unless an age too late, or cold Climate, or years, damp my intended wing.

  John Milton

  Years, Wings, Age

  'Paradise Lost' (1667) bk. 9, l. 44

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• Two voices are there: one is of the deep; It learns the storm-cloud's thunderous melody, Now roars, now murmurs with the changing sea, Now bird-like pipes, now closes soft in sleep: And one is of an old half-witted sheep Which bleats articulate monotony, And indicates that two and one are three, That grass is green, lakes damp, and mountains steep And, Wordsworth, both are thine.

  William Wordsworth

  Sleep, Two, Voice

  William Wordsworth (1954). “The prelude: with a selection from the shorter poems, the sonnets, The recluse, and The excursion, and three essays on the art of poetry”, Harcourt College Pub

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• I have seen him in the watchfires of a hundred circling camps They have builded him an altar in the evening dews and damps, I have read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps, His Day is marching on.

  Julia Ward Howe

  Marching On, Dew, Lamps

  Julia Ward Howe (1866). “Later Lyrics”, p.41

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• The damps of autumn sink into the leaves and prepare them for the necessity of their fall; and thus insensibly are we, as years close around us, detached from our tenacity of life by the gentle pressure of recorded sorrow.

  Walter Savage Landor

  Fall, Autumn, Years

  Walter Savage Landor (1853). “The Works of Walter Savage Landor”, p.318

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• We see but dimly through the mists and vapors; Amid these earthly damps What seem to us but sad, funereal tapers May be heaven's distant lamps.

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  Heaven, Lamps, May

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1871). “The Poetical Works”, p.134

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• The warriors that fought for their country, and bled, Have sunk to their rest; the damp earth is their bed; No stone tells the place where their ashes repose, Nor points out the spot from the graves of their foes. They died in their glory, surrounded by fame, And Victory's loud trump their death did proclaim; They are dead; but they live in each Patriot's breast, And their names are engraven on honor's bright crest.

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  Country, Warrior, Names

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Horace Elisha Scudder (1922). “The Complete Poetical Works of Longfellow”

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• Liberalism is dead, so dead that Democrats have all become moderate Republicans, and the heavy hand of Big Government is now limp and damp and trembly.

  Garrison Keillor

  Government, Hands, Republican

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• It is reported of the peacock that priding himself in his gay feathers he ruffles them up; but spying his black feet he soon lets fall his plumes. So he that glories in his gifts and adornings should look upon his corruptions, and that will damp his high thoughts.

  Anne Bradstreet

  Fall, Gay, Pride

  Anne Bradstreet, Adrienne Rich, Jeannine Hensley (2010). “The works of Anne Bradstreet”, Belknap Pr

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• Nor must Uncle Sam's Web-feet be forgotten. At all the watery margins they have been present. Not only on the deep sea, the broadbay, and the rapid river, but also up the narrow muddy bayou, and wherever the ground was a little damp, they have been, and made their tracks.

  Abraham Lincoln

  Uncles, Sea, Rivers

  Abraham Lincoln, Terence Ball (2013). “Lincoln: Political Writings and Speeches”, p.189, Cambridge University Press

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• We are very much what others think of us. The reception our observations meet with gives us courage to proceed, or damps our efforts.

  William Hazlitt

  Appreciation, Courage, Thinking

  William Hazlitt (1837). “Characteristics: in the manner of Rochefoucault's Maxims [by W. Hazlitt].”, p.134

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• The house smelled musty and damp, and a little sweet, as if it were haunted by the ghosts of long-dead cookies.

  Neil Gaiman

  Sweet, Long, House

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• Grass is hard and lumpy and damp, and full of dreadful black insects.

  Oscar Wilde

  Black, Grass, Insects

  Oscar Wilde, General Press (2016). “The Complete Works of Oscar Wilde: Novel, Short Stories, Poetry, Essays and Plays”, p.737, GENERAL PRESS

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• I had seen the damp lying on the outside of my little window, as if some goblin had been crying there all night, and using the window for a pocket-handkerchief.

  Charles Dickens

  Lying, Night, Pockets

  Charles Dickens (2009). “The Complete Works of Charles Dickens: Great Expectations”, p.14, Cosimo, Inc.

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• Aziraphale collected books. If he were totally honest with himself he would have to have admitted that his bookshop was simply somewhere to store them. He was not unusual in this. In order to maintain his cover as a typical second-hand book seller, he used every means short of actual physical violence to prevent customers from making a purchase. Unpleasant damp smells, glowering looks, erratic opening hours - he was incredibly good at it.

  Terry Pratchett

  Book, Mean, Hands

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• The others followed, and found themselves in a small, stuffy basement, which would have been damp, smelly, close, and dark, were it not, in fact, well-lit, which prevented it from being dark.

  Steven Brust

  Dark, Facts, Found

  Steven Brust (2008). “The Phoenix Guards”, p.28, Macmillan

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• When I wake up, my pillow’s cold and damp with tears. But tears for what? I have no idea.

  Haruki Murakami

  Ideas, Tears, Wake Up

  Haruki Murakami (2011). “Kafka On The Shore”, p.236, Random House

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• I swear if you cry, I'll kill you here and now.' Cinna just smiles. 'Had a damp morning?' 'You could wring me out.' I reply

  Suzanne Collins

  Morning, Just Smile, Cry

  Suzanne Collins (2010). “Catching Fire (The Second Book of the Hunger Games)”, p.205, Scholastic Inc.

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• Thus thought I, as by night I read Of the great army of the dead, The trenches cold and damp, The starved and frozen camp,-- The wounded from the battle-plain, In dreary hospitals of pain, The cheerless corridors, The cold and stony floors. Lo! in that house of misery A lady with a lamp I see Pass through the glimmering gloom And flit from room to room. And slow, as in a dream of bliss, The speechless sufferer turns to kiss Her shadow, as it falls Upon the darkening walls.

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  Dream, Wall, Pain

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1871). “The Poetical Works”, p.283

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• Dear Angel Juan, You used to guard my sleep like a panther biting back my pain with the edge of your teeth. You carried me into the dark dream jungle, loping past the hungry vines, crossing the shiny fish-scale river. We left my tears behind in a chiming silver pool. We left my sorrow in the muddy hollows. When I woke up you were next to me, damp and matted, your eyes hazy, trying to remember the way I clung to you, how far down we went. Was the journey too far, Angel Juan? Did we go too far?

  Francesca Lia Block

  Dream, Pain, Sleep

  Francesca Lia Block (2008). “Beautiful Boys: Missing Angel Juan and Baby Be-Bop”, p.17, Zondervan

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• and in that recurring dream, I found myself trapped in some sort of gigantic game of which I was unfamiliar with the rules; lost in a labyrinthine town of dark and damp, criss-crossing streets, ambiguous characters of uncertain authority having no idea of why I was there nor what I had to do, and where the first sign of the beginning of understanding was the wish to die.

  Franz Kafka

  Dream, Character, Dark

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