Browsing Topic Best Evanescence Quotes

Don’t try to fix me, I’m not broken.

For me, the Profumo affair symbolizes the evanescence of male government compared to women’s cosmic power.

The stairway is nota thing of gleaming strandsa radiant evanescencefor angels’ feet that only glance in their tread, and need nottouch the stone.

The light of memory, or rather the light that memory lends to things, is the palest light of all. I am not quite sure whether I am dreaming or remembering, whether I have lived my life or dreamed it. Just as dreams do, memory makes me profoundly aware of the unreality, the evanescence of the world, a fleeting image in the moving water.

A work of art is static; and its value and its weakness lie in being so: but the tuft of grass and the clouds above it belong to our own travelling brotherhood.

Beneath the gore and smoke and loam, this book is about the evanescence of life, and why some men choose to fill their brief allotment of time engaging the impossible, others in the manufacture of sorrow. In the end it is a story of the ineluctable conflict between good and evil, daylight and darkness, the White City and the Black.

I have no other pictures of the world apart from those which express evanescence, and callousness, vanity and anger, emptiness, orhideous useless hate. Everything has merely confirmed what I had seen and understood in my childhood: futile and sordid fits of rage, cries suddenly blanketed by the silence, shadows swallowed up for ever by the night.

. . . why some men choose to fill their brief allotment of time engaging the impossible, others in the manufacture of sorrow.

The slightest living thing answers a deeper need than all the works of man because it is transitory. It has an evanescence of life, or growth, or change: it passes, as we do, from one stage to another, from darkness to darkness, into a distance where we, too, vanish out of sight. A work of art is static; and its value and its weakness lie in being so: but the tuft of grass and the clouds above it belong to our own traveling brotherhood.

Writing comes into being to retain information across time and across space. Before writing, communication is evanescent and local; sounds carry a few yards and fade to oblivion. The evanescence of the spoken word went without saying. So fleeting was speech that the rare phenomenon of the echo, a sound heard once and then again, seemed a sort of magic.

The world owes its enchantment to these curious creatures and their fancies; but its multiple complicity rejects them. Thistledown spirits, tragic, heartrending in their evanescence, they must go blowing headlong to perdition.

Readers and writers are united in their need for solitude, in their pursuit of substance in a time of ever-increasing evanescence: in their reach inward, via print, for a way out of loneliness.

I take this evanescence and lubricity of all objects, which lets them slip through our fingers then when we clutch hardest, to be the most unhandsome part of our condition.

We suffer equal pain from the pertinacious adhesion of unwelcome images, as from the evanescence of those which are pleasing and useful.

Don’t be afraid of the shadows, it only means there’s a light nearby.

It might not look it but rocking in a corset is harder than you think

I’ve realized that Evanescence is who I am.

Inspiration comes in the middle of the night when you should be doing homework.

My biggest dream from the beginning – besides Evanescence – is scoring film and writing music for film.

When Evanescence took time off, I bought a big concert harp and started taking lessons like I was in high school again, which was really, really fun. I felt like I was learning again.

I am Evanescence. I am the only original member. I have basically hired the band. Evanescence has become me. It is mine and it’s exactly how I want it to be.

It’s okay to laugh at me, I only look scary.

Only imagination that towers can reproduce evanescence and render rigidity flexible.

Listening to Evanescence makes me want to break up with a girl in real time as a giant antique hourglass falls to the floor in slow motion.

Let us dream of evanescence, and linger in the beautiful foolishness of things.

Meanwhile, let us have a sip of tea. The afternoon glow is brightening the bamboos, the fountains are bubbling with delight, the soughing of the pines is heard in our kettle. Let us dream of evanescence, and linger in the beautiful foolishness of things.