Procession Quotes - Page 3

• Life set itself to new processions of seed-time and harvest, the skin newly turned to seasonal variations, the very blood humming to new altitudes.

  Mary Hunter Austin

  Blood, Skins, Variation

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• What do you think spies are: priests, saints and martyrs? They're a squalid procession of vain fools, traitors too, yes; pansies, sadists and drunkards, people who play cowboys and Indians to brighten their rotten lives.

  John le Carre

  Thinking, Cowboy, Play

  The Spy Who Came in from the Cold (1963). Sounds like some writers.

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• Music is part of the tantra, the dance of life. Before your eyes, before your awareness, is the procession of eternity.

  Frederick Lenz

  Philosophy, Eye, Awareness

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• It is the fixed that horrifies us, the fixed that assails us with the tremendous force of mindlessness. The fixed is a Mason jar,and we can't beat it open. ...The fixed is a world without fire--dead flint, dead tinder, and nowhere a spark. It is motion without direction, force without power, the aimless procession of caterpillars round the rim of a vase, and I hate it because at any moment I myself might step to that charmed and glistening thread.

  Annie Dillard

  Hate, Fire, Vases

  Annie Dillard (2011). “Pilgrim at Tinker Creek”, p.69, Hymns Ancient and Modern Ltd

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• Curses are like processions. They return to the place from which they came.

  Giovanni Ruffini

  Return, Curse

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• Chrestomanci smiled and swept out of the room like a very long procession of one person.

  Diana Wynne Jones

  Long, Rooms, Persons

  Diana Wynne Jones (2013). “The Chrestomanci Series: Entire Collection”, p.32, HarperCollins UK

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• Fever jumped aside just in time to dodge the shower of urine, and stumbled into the path of a religious procession - celebrants in robes and pointed hats whirling and clapping and chanting the name of some old-world prophet, 'Hari, Hari! Hari Potter!'

  Philip Reeve

  Religious, Names, Potters

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• I remember when my father passed away, we drove the funeral procession past the bank so he could say one last goodbye. That's how much the bank meant to my father.

  Alexi Giannoulias

  Goodbye, Father, Past

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• … Her heart remained empty once more, and the procession of days all alike began again. So they were going to follow one another, like this, in line, always identical, innumerable, bringing nothing!

  Gustave Flaubert

  Heart, Lines, Empty

  Gustave Flaubert (1949). “Gustave Flaubert's Madame Bovary”

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• She sits in her usual ample armchair, with piles of books and unopened magazines around her. She sips cautiously from the mug of weak herb tea which is now her substitute for coffee. At one time she thought that she could not live without coffee, but it turned out that it is really the warm large mug she wants in her hands, that is the aid to thought or whatever it is she practices through the procession of hours, or of days.

  Alice Munro

  Coffee, Book, Hands

  Alice Munro (2011). “New Selected Stories”, p.421, Random House

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• The Mole was bewitched, entranced, fascinated. By the side of the river he trotted as one trots, when very small, by the side of a man who holds one spellbound by exciting stories; and when tired at last, he sat on the bank, while the river still chattered on to him, a babbling procession of the best stories in the world, sent from the heart of the earth to be told at last to the insatiable sea.

  Kenneth Grahame

  Tired, Heart, Men

  Kenneth Grahame (2015). “Wind in the Willows (Illustrated): Children’s Classic with Original Illustrations”, p.5, e-artnow

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• So what does Tod look like? Whitewashed skeleton skulking around in a black cape and hood? Carrying a scythe? 'Cause I'm thinking that would cause mass panic in the hospital." ..... "Do you chase after a funeral processions in a long, dirty dress, hair trailing behind you in the wind? I shot him a mock frown. "Have you been following me again?

  Rachel Vincent

  Dirty, Thinking, Hair

  Rachel Vincent (2011). “Soul Screamers Volume One: My Soul to Lose\My Soul to Take\My Soul to Save”, p.184, Harlequin

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• The question always is, has everything been done to make the sufferings of these exceptions as small as possible? Or, in the triumph of the crowded procession, have the helpless been trampled on, instead of being gently lifted aside out of the roadway of the conqueror, whom they have no power to accompany on his march?

  Elizabeth Gaskell

  Suffering, Triumph, Done

  Elizabeth Gaskell (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Elizabeth Gaskell (Illustrated)”, p.955, Delphi Classics

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• I was sitting in my office when someone called to tell me two light planes had collided with the World Trade Centre. I turned on my television, before long there was this procession of people of all kinds, walking up the street. What I remember most was the silence of that crowd; there was no sound.

  Tom Wolfe

  Light, Two, Long

  "The liberal elite hasn't got a clue". Interview with Ed Vulliamy, www.theguardian.com. November 1, 2004.

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• All finite things have their roots in the infinite, and if you wish to understand life at all, you cannot tear out its context. And that context, astounding even to bodily eyes, is the heaven of stars and the incredible procession of the great galaxies.

  William Macneile Dixon

  Life, Stars, Eye

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• It is greater than the stars - that moving procession of human energy; greater than the palpitating earth and the things growing thereon.

  Kate Chopin

  Stars, Moving, Energy

  Kate Chopin (2016). “The Awakening”, p.187, Xist Publishing

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• In the procession I should feel the crushing feet, the clashing discords, the ruthless hands and stifling breath. I could not hear the rhythm of the march.

  Kate Chopin

  Crush, Hands, Gnarly

  Kate Chopin (2016). “The Awakening”, p.187, Xist Publishing

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• We shed as we pick up, like travellers who must carry everything in their arms, and what we let fall will be picked up by those behind. The procession is very long and life is very short. We die on the march. but there is nothing outside the march so nothing can be lost to it.

  Tom Stoppard

  Fall, Long, Arms

  Tom Stoppard (2013). “Arcadia”, p.52, Faber & Faber

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• From being quite sure of himself and his future he becomes not at all sure. If he be an imaginative boy a door is torn open and for the first time he looks out upon the world, seeing, as though they marched in procession before him, the countless figures of men who before his time have come out of nothingness into the world, lived their lives and again disappeared into nothingness. The sadness of sophistication has come to the boy.

  Sherwood Anderson

  Sadness, Boys, Men

  Sherwood Anderson (1995). “Winesburg, Ohio”, p.145, Courier Corporation

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• A short time later, when the carpenter was taking measurements for the coffin, through the window they saw a light rain of tiny yellow flowers falling. They fell on the town all through the night in a silent storm, and they covered the roofs and blocked the doors and smothered the animals who slept outdoors. So many flowers fell from the sky that in the morning the streets were carpeted with a compact cushion and they had to clear them away with shovels and rakes so that the funeral procession could pass by.

  Gabriel Garcia Marquez

  Morning, Fall, Rain

  "One Hundred Years of Solitude". Book by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, www.nytimes.com. 1967.

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• When Heraclitus said that everything passes steadily along, he was not inciting us to make the best of the moment, an idea unseemly to his placid mind, but to pay attention to the pace of things. Each has its own rhythm: the nap of a dog, the procession of the equinoxes, the dances of Lydia, the majestically slow beat of the drums at Dodona, the swift runners at Olympia.

  Guy Davenport

  Dog, Naps, Ideas

  Guy Davenport (2013). “The Guy Davenport Reader”, p.224, Counterpoint

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• Talk—half-talk, phrases that had no need to be finished, abstractions, Chinese bells played on with cotton-tipped sticks, mock orange blossoms painted on porcelain. The muffled, close, half-talk of soft-fleshed women. The men she had embraced, and the women, all washing against the resonance of my memory. Sound within sound, scene within scene, woman within woman—like acid revealing an invisible script. One woman within another eternally, in a far-reaching procession, shattering my mind into fragments, into quarter tones which no orchestral baton can ever make whole again.

  Anais Nin

  Memories, Men, Orange

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• It may be a procession of faithful failures that enriches the soil of godly success. Faithful actions are not religious acts. They are not even necessary actions undertaken by people of faith. Faithful actions, whether they are marked by success or they end in failure, are actions that are compelled by goodness.

  Desmond Tutu

  Religious, Godly, People

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• My VIP patients often regret so many things on their deathbeds. They regret the bitterness they'll leave in people's hearts. They realize the no money, no church service, no eulogy, no funeral procession no matter how elaborate, can remove the legacy of a mean spirit.

  Abraham Verghese

  Regret, Heart, Mean

  Abraham Verghese (2012). “Cutting for Stone”, p.255, Random House India

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• Snowstorms may yet whiten fields and gardens, high winds may howl about the trees and chimneys, but the little blue heralds persistently proclaim from the orchard and the garden that the spring procession has begun to move.

  Neltje Blanchan

  Spring, Moving, Garden

  Neltje Blanchan (1922). “Bird Neighbors: An Introductory Acquaintance with One Hundred and Fifty Birds Commonly Found in the Gardens, Meadows, and Woods about Our Homes”

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