Amber Quotes - Page 7

• Oh, I forgot to tell you," Cookie said. "Amber wants your dad to get a teriyaki machine so she can sing for all the lonely barflies." "I'm a good singer, mom." Only a twelve-year-old could make the word mom sound blasphemous. I leaned into Cookie, "Does she know its not called--?" "No," she whispered. "Are you gonna tell her?" "No. It's much funnier this way.

  Darynda Jones

  Mom, Lonely, Dad

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• We knew it would rain, for the poplars showed
  The white of their leaves, the amber grain
  Shrunk in the wind,-and the lightning now
  Is tangled in tremulous skeins of rain.

  Thomas Bailey Aldrich

  Rain, Wind, Rivers

  Thomas Bailey ALDRICH (1859). “The Ballad of Babie Bell, and Other Poems”, p.24

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• Language is the amber in which a thousand precious and subtle thoughts have been safely embedded and preserved. It has arrested ten thousand lightning flashes of genius, which, unless thus fixed and arrested, might have been as bright, but would have also been as quickly passing and perishing, as the lightning.

  Richard Chenevix Trench

  Communication, Lightning, Genius

  Richard Chenevix Trench (1867). “On the Study of Words Lectures Addressed (originally) to the Pupils at the Diocesan Training-school, Winchester by Richard Chenevix Trench”, p.24

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• Once there were brook trout in the streams in the mountains. You could see them standing in the amber current where the white edges of their fins wimpled softly in the flow. They smelled of moss in your hand. Polished and muscular and torsional. On their backs were vermiculate patterns that were maps of the world in its becoming. Maps and mazes. Of a thing which could not be put back. Not be made right again. In the deep glens where they lived all things were older than man and they hummed of mystery.

  Cormac McCarthy

  Men, Hands, White

  Cormac McCarthy (2007). “The Road”, p.241, Vintage

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• Fill with mingled cream and amber, I will drain that glass again. Such hilarious visions clamber Through the chamber of my brain — Quaintest thoughts — queerest fancies Come to life and fade away; What care I how time advances? I am drinking ale today.

  Edgar Allan Poe

  Food, Drinking, Beer

  Edgar Allan Poe (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Edgar Allan Poe (Illustrated)”, p.229, Delphi Classics

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• If I say your voice is an amber waterfall in which I yearn to burn each day, if you eat my mouth like a mystical rose with powers of healing and damnation, If I confess that your body is the only civilization I long to experience… would it mean that we are close to knowing something about love?

  Aberjhani

  Love, Relationship, Romantic

  Aberjhani (2014). “Journey through the Power of the Rainbow: Quotations from a Life Made Out of Poetry”, p.18, Lulu.com

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• If any man has drunk a little too deeply from the cup of physical pleasure; if he has spent too much time at his desk that should have been spent asleep; if his fine spirits have become temporarily dulled; if he finds the air too damp, the minutes too slow, and the atmosphere too heavy to withstand; if he is obsessed by a fixed idea which bars him from any freedom of thought: if he is any of these poor creatures, we say, let him be given a good pint of amber-flavored chocolate... and marvels will be performed.

  Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin

  Food, Men, Air

  Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin (2009). “The Physiology of Taste: or Meditations on Transcendental Gastronomy”, p.121, Vintage

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• Cold air rises from the ground as the sun goes down.  The eye-burning clarity of the light intensifies. The southern rim of the sky glows to a deeper blue, to pale violet, to purple, then thins to grey.  Slowly the wind falls, and the still air begins to freeze.  The solid eastern ridge is black; it has a bloom on it like the dust on the skin of a grape.  The west flares briefly.  The long, cold amber of the afterglow casts clear black lunar shadows.  There is an animal mystery in the light that sets upon the fields like a frozen muscle that will flex and wake at sunrise.

  J. A. Baker

  Fall, Eye, Animal

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• So she sat on the porch and watched the moon rise. Soon its amber fluid was drenching the earth, and quenching the thirst of the day.

  Zora Neale Hurston

  Moon, Earth, Fluid

  Zora Neale Hurston (1937). “Their Eyes Were Watching God”, p.120, University of Illinois Press

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• Like flies in amber, like corpses frozen in in ice, that which according to the laws of nature should pass away is by the miracle of ink on paper, preserved. It is a kind of magic. As one tends the graves of the dead, so I tend the books. And every day I open a volume or two, read a few lines or pages, allow the voices of the forgotten dead to resonate inside my head.

  Diane Setterfield

  Book, Ice, Law

  Diane Setterfield (2011). “The Thirteenth Tale”, p.24, Hachette UK

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• Unlike most readers in Antiquity who read their books aloud, we have developed the convention of reading silently. This lets us read more widely but often less well, especially when what we are reading-such as the plays of Shakespeare and Holy Scripture-is a body of oral material that has been, almost but not quite accidentally, captured in a book like a fly in amber.

  Jaroslav Pelikan

  Book, Reading, Play

  Jaroslav Pelikan (2006). “Whose Bible Is It?: A Short History of the Scriptures”, p.16, Penguin

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