Flakes Quotes - Page 2

• These transcending truths restructure our understanding of ourselves and of the universe and bring within our view resplendent reality. To be seen only by those who have eyes to see, these flakes of fire are embedded in the holy scriptures. There these tr.

  Neal A. Maxwell

  Eye, Reality, Fire

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• September fattens on vines. Roses flake from the wall. The smoke of harmless fires drifts to my eyes. This is plenty. This is more than enough.

  Geoffrey Hill

  Wall, Eye, Fire

  Geoffrey Hill (2013). “Broken Hierarchies: Poems 1952-2012”, p.44, Oxford University Press

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• Never did he once consider directing his hatred toward the hunters. Such an emotion would have destroyed him ... His subconscious knew what his min did not guess-that hating them would have consumed him, burned him up like a piece of soft coal, leaving only flakes of ash and a question mark of smoke.

  Toni Morrison

  Hate, Hatred, Leaving

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• Please drop a note to the clerk of the weather, and have a good, rousing snow-storm -- say on the twenty-second. None of your meek, gentle, nonsensical, shilly-shallying snow-storms; not the sort where the flakes float lazily down from the sky as if they didn't care whether they ever got here or not, and then melt away as soon as they touch the earth, but a regular business-like whizzing, whirring, blurring, cutting snow-storm, warranted to freeze and stay on!

  Kate Douglas Wiggin

  Cutting, Sky, Weather

  Kate Douglas Wiggin (2016). “KATE DOUGLAS WIGGIN – Ultimate Collection: 21 Novels & 130+ Short Stories, Fairy Tales and Poems for Children (Illustrated): Including Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm & Penelope Hamilton Series: Rose o' the River, A Summer in a Cañon, The Birds' Christmas Carol, Timothy's Quest, The Arabian Nights, Golden Numbers & many more”, p.1409, e-artnow

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• If one yearns to see the face of the Divine, one must break out of the aquarium, escape the fish farm, to go swim up wild cataracts, dive in deep fjords. One must explore the labyrinth of the reef, the shadows of the lily pads. How limiting, how insulting to think of God as a benevolent warden, an absentee hatchery manager who imprisons us in the 'comfort' of artificial pools, where intermediaries sprinkle our restrictive waters with sanitized flakes of processed nutriment.

  Tom Robbins

  God, Thinking, Fjords

  Tom Robbins (2003). “Skinny Legs and All”, p.195, Bantam

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• With every falling flake, a unique spark of interest falls from heaven.

  Master P

  Fall, Unique, Snow

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• They were playing old Bob Dylan, more than perfect for narrow Village streets close to Christmas and the snow whirling down in big feathery flakes, the kind of winter where you want to be walking down a city street with your arm around a girl like on the old record cover.

  Donna Tartt

  Girl, Winter, Cities

  Donna Tartt (2013). “The Goldfinch”, p.462, Hachette UK

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• I don't use the word gourmet. The word doesn't mean anything anymore. 'Gourmet' makes it sound like someone is putting sherry wine in the corn-flake casserole.

  Julia Child

  Wine, Mean, Corn Flakes

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• I buy soy sauce and flavor it five different ways: with sake, mirin, sugar, kombu and bonito flakes. I use them on lots of dishes at home.

  Masaharu Morimoto

  Home, Different, Soy Sauce

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• So I let my shame own me, kill me, wilt me away into a thousand dead flakes, knowing if I kept it all in, she would never have to learn the dirtiness that was forever inside me--the bad, the ugly, the twisted. She could go on living her life happy, just like she deserved.

  Jessica Sorensen

  Happy Life, Knowing, Forever

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• I'm almost violent about that stuff - electronic manipulation of pictures. I think it's an abomination. I reject it all. I mean, it's OK for selling corn flakes or automobiles or for taking pimples out of Elizabeth Taylor's face, but it undermines the thing that photography is about, which is about observation and not about manipulation of images.

  Elliott Erwitt

  Photography, Mean, Thinking

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• But then, Cap'n Crunch in a flake form would be suicidal madness; it would last about as long, when immersed in milk, as snowflakes sifting down into a deep fryer. No, the cereal engineers at General Mills had to find a shape that would minimize surface area, and, as some sort of compromise between the sphere that is dictated by Euclidean geometry and whatever sunken treasure related shapes that the cereal aestheticians were probably clamoring for, they came up with this hard-to-pin-down striated pillow formation.

  Neal Stephenson

  Suicidal, Cereal, Long

  "Cryptonomicon". Book by Neal Stephenson, 1999.

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• We tilt our heads back and open wide. The snow drifts into our zombie mouths crawling with grease and curses and tobacco flakes and cavities and boyfriend/girlfriend juice, the stain of lies. For one moment we are not failed tests and broken condoms and cheating on essays; we are crayons and lunch boxes and swinging so high our sneakers punch holes in the clouds. For one breath everything feels better. Then it melts. The bus drivers rev their engines and the ice cloud shatters. Everyone shuffles forward. They don't know what just happened. They can't remember.

  Laurie Halse Anderson

  Cheating, Girlfriend, Lying

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• So all night long the storm roared on: The morning broke without a sun; In tiny spherule traced with lines Of Nature’s geometric signs, In starry flake, and pellicle, All day the hoary meteor fell; And, when the second morning shone, We looked upon a world unknown, On nothing we could call our own. Around the glistening wonder bent The blue walls of the firmament, No cloud above, no earth below,— A universe of sky and snow!

  John Greenleaf Whittier

  Morning, Wall, Night

  John Greenleaf Whittier (2012). “Poems of Nature, Poems Subjective and Reminiscent and Religious Poems, Complete Volume II., the Works of Whittier”, p.87, tredition

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• Once I spoke the language of the flowers, Once I understood each word the caterpillar said, Once I smiled in secret at the gossip of the starlings, And shared a conversation with the housefly in my bed. Once I heard and answered all the questions of the crickets, And joined the crying of each falling dying flake of snow, Once I spoke the language of the flowers. . . . How did it go? How did it go?

  Shel Silverstein

  Flower, Fall, Snow

  Shel Silverstein, “Forgotten Language”

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• Peering down into the water where the morning sun fashioned wheels of light, coronets fanwise in which lay trapped each twig, each grain of sediment, long flakes and blades of light in the dusty water sliding away like optic strobes where motes sifted and spun.

  Cormac McCarthy

  Morning, Light, Long

  Cormac McCarthy (2010). “Suttree”, p.7, Pan Macmillan

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• What she really loved was to hang over the edge and watch the bow of the ship slice through the waves. She loved it especially when the waves were high and the ship rose and fell, or when it was snowing and the flakes stung her face.

  Kristin Cashore

  Inspirational, Funny, Ocean

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• If she possessed any memory whatsoever of the days when she'd been whole, her shattered recollections were scattered across the darkscape of her mind in fragments so minuscule that she could no more easily piece them together than she could gather from the beach all the tiny chips of broken seashells, worn to polished flakes by ages of relentless tides, and reassemble them into their original architectures.

  Dean Koontz

  Beach, Memories, Broken

  Dean Koontz (2007). “One Door Away from Heaven: A Novel”, p.145, Bantam

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• Night falls fast. Today is in the past. Blown from the dark hill hither to my door Three flakes, then four Arrive, then many more.

  Edna St. Vincent Millay

  Fall, Dark, Past

  Edna St. Vincent Millay (2003). “Edna St. Vincent Millay: Selected Poems”, p.201, Library of America

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• I gave three quiet cheers for Minnesota. In Seattle a dusty inch of anything white and chilly means the city lapses into full-on panic mode, as if each falling flake crashes to earth with its own individual baggie of used hypodermic needles. It’s ridiculous.

  Cherie Priest

  Cheer, Fall, Mean

  Cherie Priest (2011). “Bloodshot”, p.116, Spectra

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• Nature's silence is its one remark, and every flake of world is a chip off that old mute and immutable block.

  Annie Dillard

  Block, Silence, World

  Annie Dillard (2016). “Teaching a Stone to Talk: Expeditions and Encounters”, p.65, Canongate Books

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• This was Dante's. Crazy was what we had for breakfast when we ran out of Corn Flakes

  Karen Chance

  Crazy, Corn Flakes, Breakfast

  Karen Chance (2011). “Hunt the Moon: A Cassie Palmer Novel”, p.283, Penguin

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• With a changing key, you unlock the house where the snow of what’s silenced drifts. Just like the blood that bursts from Your eye or mouth or ear, so your key changes. Changing your key changes the word That may drift with flakes. Just like the wind that rebuffs you, Clenched round your word is the snow.

  Paul Celan

  Eye, Keys, Blood

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• She suffers according to the digits of my hate. I hear the filaments of alabaster. I would lie down with them and lift my madness off like a wig. I would lie outside in a room of wool and let the snow cover me. Paris white or flake white or argentine, all in the washbasin of my mouth, calling “Oh.” I am empty. I am witless. Death is here. There is no other settlement.

  Anne Sexton

  Hate, Lying, Paris

  Anne Sexton, “Oh”

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• We come to a lamp beside the pathway, and suddenly we stop walking, and we start to dance, and we glitter in the shafts of light, like stars, like flies, like flakes of dust.

  David Almond

  Stars, Light, Dust

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