Depth Quotes - Page 27

• Back in the autumn I had awakened to a growing darkness and cacophony, as if something in the depths were crying out. A whole chorus of voices. Orphaned voices. They seemed to speak for all the unlived parts of me, and they came with a force and dazzle that I couldn't contain. They seemed to explode the boundaries of my existence. I know now that they were the clamor of a new self struggling to be born.

  Sue Monk Kidd

  Struggle, Autumn, Self

  Sue Monk Kidd (2016). “When the Heart Waits: Spiritual Direction for Life's Sacred Questions”, p.8, Harper Collins

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• I yearn to be a woman of more depth, but I'm not so fond of the path I'd need to follow to get there.

  Jen Lancaster

  Needs, Path

  Jen Lancaster (2007). “Bright Lights, Big Ass: A Self-Indulgent, Surly, Ex-Sorority Girl's Guide to Why it Often Sucks in the City, or Who are These Idiots and Why Do They All Live Next Door to Me?”, p.227, Penguin

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• Good Demeter mothering keeps a child in the heat and passion of life which immortalize and establish soulfulness. Mothering involves not only physical survival and achievement—Demeter's grain and fruit—it is also concerned with guiding a child to his or her unknown depths and the mystery of fate.

  Thomas Moore

  Children, Passion, Fate

  Thomas Moore (1992). “Care of the soul: a guide for cultivating depth and sacredness in everyday life”, Harpercollins

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• He found it so easy and so pleasant to cry that he didn’t try to stop for a while, until he realized he was forcing his sobs a little, exaggerating their depth with unnecessary shudders. … The whole point of crying is to quit before you coined it up. The whole point of grief itself was to cut it out while it was still honest, while it still meant something. Because the thing was so easily corrupted

  Richard Yates

  Grief, Cutting, Trying

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• Outside the trees dragged their leaves like nets through the depths of the air; the sound of water was in the room and through the waves came the voices of birds singing.

  Virginia Woolf

  Air, Voice, Water

  Virginia Woolf (2007). “Selected Works of Virginia Woolf”, p.216, Wordsworth Editions

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• no one talks more passionately about his rights than he who in the depths of his soul doubts whether he has any

  Friedrich Nietzsche

  Rights, Soul, Doubt

  Friedrich Nietzsche, R. J. Hollingdale (1996). “Nietzsche: Human, All Too Human: A Book for Free Spirits”, p.191, Cambridge University Press

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• One day when I was able to get up, I decided to look at myself in the mirror on the opposite wall. I had not seen myself since the ghetto. From the depths of the mirror, a corpse was contemplating me. The look in his eyes as he gazed at me has never left me.

  Elie Wiesel

  Wall, Ghetto, Eye

  Elie Wiesel (2012). “Night”, p.139, Macmillan

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• From the depths of the mirror, a corpse gazed back at me. The look in his eyes, as they stared into mine, has never left me.

  Elie Wiesel

  Eye, Night, Mirrors

  Elie Wiesel, Harry J. Cargas (1993). “Telling the tale: a tribute to Elie Wiesel on the occasion of his 65th birthday : essays, reflections, and poems”, Time Being Press

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• Let yourself go. Pull out from the depths those thoughts that you do not understand, and spread them out in the sunlight and know the meaning of them.

  E. M. Forster

  Inspirational, Life, Beautiful

  E.M. Forster (2012). “A Room with a View”, p.21, Courier Corporation

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• Books, which we mistake for consolation, only add depth to our sorrow.

  Orhan Pamuk

  Mistake, Book, Sorrow

  Orhan Pamuk (2002). “My Name is Red”, Vintage

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• Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high, where knowledge is free. Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls. Where words come out from the depth of truth, where tireless striving stretches its arms toward perfection. Where the clear stream of reason has not lost it's way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit. Where the mind is led forward by thee into ever widening thought and action. In to that heaven of freedom, my father, LET MY COUNTRY AWAKE!

  Rabindranath Tagore

  Country, Wall, Father

  Rabindranath Tagore (2014). “Gitanjali: Collection of Tagore Poems”, p.39, editionNEXT.com

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• In the depths of every heart there is a tomb and a dungeon, though the lights, the music, and the revelry above may cause us to forget their existence.

  Nathaniel Hawthorne

  Heart, Light, May

  1851 Twice- Told Tales,'The Haunted Mind'.

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• I am talking about ultimate deceit. I am talking about unparalleled treachery. Bottomless lies. Depths that are seen that are previously unimaginable. Darkness and shattering despair that could break bones. Paranoia and horror that could stop the heart cold. All inflicted on one's self by one's self. The soul turns schizophrenic and goes hopelessly insane.

  Henry Rollins

  Lying, Heart, Self

  Henry Rollins (1992). “Art to choke hearts ; & Pissing in the gene pool: collected writing 1985-1987”, 2 13 61

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• In their choice of lovers both the male and the female reveal their essential nature. The type of human being we prefer reveals the contours of our heart. Love is an impulse which springs from the most profound depths of our beings, and upon reaching the visible surface of life carries with it an alluvium of shells and seaweed from the inner abyss. A skilled naturalist, by filing these materials, can reconstruct the oceanic depths from which they have been uprooted.

  Jose Ortega y Gasset

  Spring, Heart, Love Is

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• The silence in the room had width, height, depth, mass and substance.

  Maud Hart Lovelace

  Silence, Substance, Height

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• [F]or contemporary judgment does not recognize that much depth of soul is needed to light up the picture drawn from contemptible life and elevate it into a pearl of creation.

  Nikolai Gogol

  Light, Soul, Doe

  Nikolai Gogol (2011). “Dead Souls: A Novel”, p.134, Vintage

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• Looking back, I still can't believe how unprofessional the news media was. So much spin, so few hard facts. All those digestible sound bites from an army of 'experts' all contradicting one another, all trying to seem more 'shocking' and 'in-depth' than the last one. It was all so confusing, nobody seemed to know what to do.

  Max Brooks

  Believe, Army, Media

  Max Brooks (2006). “World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War”, p.122, Broadway Books

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• Baudelaire writes: In certain almost supernatural inner states, the depth of life is entirely revealed in the spectacle, however ordinary, that we have before our eyes, and which becomes the symbol of it." Here we have a passage that designates the phenomenological direction I myself pursue. The exterior spectacle helps intimate grandeur unfold.

  Gaston Bachelard

  Eye, Writing, Ordinary

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• You're not eating anything," said Marilla sharply, eying her as if it were a serious shortcoming. Anne sighed. I can't. I'm in the depths of despair. Can you eat when you are in the depths of despair?" I've never been in the depths of despair, so I can't say," responded Marilla. Weren't you? Well, did you ever try to IMAGINE you were in the depths of despair?" No, I didn't." Then I don't think you can understand what it's like. It's very uncomfortable a feeling indeed.

  Lucy Maud Montgomery

  Thinking, Feelings, Despair

  Lucy Maud Montgomery (2016). “ANNE OF GREEN GABLES - Complete Collection: ALL 14 Books in One Volume (Anne of Green Gables, Anne of Avonlea, Anne of the Island, Rainbow Valley, The Story Girl, Chronicles of Avonlea and more): Including Letters and Autobiography of Lucy Maud Montgomery”, p.26, e-artnow

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• But words are vain; reject them all— They utter but a feeble part: Hear thou the depths from which they call, The voiceless longing of my heart.

  George MacDonald

  Heart, Voiceless, Longing

  George MacDonald (2015). “Delphi Complete Works of George MacDonald (Illustrated)”, p.46, Delphi Classics

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• It rasped her, though, to have stirring about in her this brutal monster! to hear twigs cracking and feel hooves planted down in the depths of that leaf-encumbered forest, the soul; never to be content quite, or quite secure, for at any moment the brute would be stirring, this hatred.

  Virginia Woolf

  Hatred, Soul, Monsters

  Virginia Woolf (2012). “Mrs. Dalloway - Broadview Edition”, p.12, Broadview Press

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• Most of the time it's not the Europeans who belittle us. What happens when we look at them is that we belittle ourselves. When we undertake the pilgrimage, it's not just to escape the tyranny at home but also to reach to the depths of our souls. The day arrives when the guilty must return to save those who could not find the courage to leave.

  Orhan Pamuk

  Home, Soul, Identity

  Orhan Pamuk (2011). “Snow”, p.75, Faber & Faber

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• Only Thee That I want thee, only thee---let my heart repeat without end. All desires that distract me, day and night, are false and empty to the core. As the night keeps hidden in its gloom the petition for light, even thus in the depth of my unconsciousness rings the cry ---`I want thee, only thee'. As the storm still seeks its end in peace when it strikes against peace with all its might, even thus my rebellion strikes against thy love and still its cry is ---`I want thee, only thee'.

  Rabindranath Tagore

  Heart, Night, Light

  Rabindranath Tagore (2013). “Gitanjali”, p.54, Simon and Schuster

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• A dialogue is very important. It is a form of communication in which question and answer continue till a question is left without an answer. Thus the question is suspended between the two persons involved in this answer and question. It is like a bud with untouched blossoms . . . If the question is left totally untouched by thought, it then has its own answer because the questioner and answerer, as persons, have disappeared. This is a form of dialogue in which investigation reaches a certain point of intensity and depth, which then has a quality that thought can never reach.

  Jiddu Krishnamurti

  Communication, Two, Important

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• I love all things, not because they are passionate or sweet-smelling but because, I don't know, because this ocean is yours, and mine: these buttons and wheels and little forgotten treasures, fans upon whose feathers love has scattered its blossoms, glasses, knives and scissors -- all bear the trace of someone's fingers on their handle or surface, the trace of a distant hand lost in the depths of forgetfulness.

  Pablo Neruda

  Sweet, Ocean, Glasses

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