Derive happiness in oneself from a good day's work, from illuminating the fog that surrounds us.
Suddenly a mist fell from my eyes and I knew the way I had to take.
The past is a fog on our minds. The future? A complete dream. We can't neither guess the future, neither change the past.
. . . We love fog because it shifts old anomalies into the elements surrounding them. It gives relief from a way of seeing
One should see that all appearance is like mist and fog.
And when the fog's over and the stars and the moon come out at night it'll be a beautiful sight.
Truth is a torch which gleams in the fog but does not dispel it.
Composing is like driving down a foggy road.
Mystery magnifies danger as the fog the sun.
Santa knows Physics: Of all colors, Red Light penetrates fog best. That's why Benny the Blue-nosed reindeer never got the gig.
Emergencies have always been necessary to progress. It was darkness which produced the lamp. It was fog that produced the compass. It was hunger that drove us to exploration. And it took a depression to teach us the real value of a job.
The fog comes on little cat feet. It sits looking over the harbor and city on silent haunches and then moves on.
I believe a lot of our lives are spent asleep, and what I've been trying to do is hold on to those moments when a little spark cuts through the fog and nudges you.
It is not the clear-sighted who rule the world. Great achievements are accomplished in a blessed, warm fog.
Fear is like a giant fog. It sits on your brain and blocks everything - real feelings, true happiness, real joy. They can't get through that fog. But you lift it, and buddy, you're in for the ride of your life.
An absolute patience. Trees stand up to their knees in fog. The fog slowly flows uphill. White cobwebs, the grass leaning where deer have looked for apples. The woods from brook to where the top of the hill looks over the fog, send up not one bird. So absolute, it is no other than happiness itself, a breathing too quiet to hear.
Sometimes it is hard to see in life. If the fog rolls in we can't see anything. Most people get caught up in life that they forget the purpose of life is to be happy.
Writing is like driving at night in the fog. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.
Truth is the torch that gleams through the fog without dispelling it.
Most consequential choices involve shades of gray, and some fog is often useful in getting things done
Humans believe so many lies because we aren’t aware. We ignore the truth or we just don’t see the truth. When we are educated, we accumulate a lot of knowledge, and all that knowledge is just like a wall of fog that doesn’t allow us to perceive the truth, what really is.
Fog and smog should not be confused and are easily separated by color.
Maybe nothingness is to be without your presence, without you moving, slicing the noon like a blue flower, without you walking later through the fog and the cobbles, without the light you carry in your hand, golden, which maybe others will not see, which maybe no one knew was growing like the red beginnings of a rose. In short, without your presence: without your coming suddenly, incitingly, to know my life, gust of a rosebush, wheat of wind: since then I am because you are, since then you are, I am, we are, and through love I will be, you will be, we will be.
We can stick anything into the fog and make it look like a ghost.
Sometimes in life, a fog sets in and you don't know which way is the right direction. Every voice may tell you it's not going to happen, but God has placed a promise in your heart. Refuse to listen to those voices. Keep believing.
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