Quotes about gliding

A collection of quotes on the topic of gliding, likeness, thing, soul.

Quotes about gliding

Richard Aldington photo

“I dream of silent verses where the rhyme
Glides noiseless as an oar.”

Richard Aldington (1892–1962) English writer and poet

From At the British Museum Collected Poems, 1929

Peter Ustinov photo
Lewis Carroll photo

“All in the golden afternoon
Full leisurely we glide;
For both our oars, with little skill,
By little arms are plied,
While little hands make vain pretence
Our wanderings to guide.”

Lewis Carroll (1832–1898) English writer, logician, Anglican deacon and photographer

Source: Alice's Adventures in Wonderland & Through the Looking-Glass

Sylvia Plath photo

“I felt dumb and subdued. Every time I tried to concentrate, my mind glided off, like a skater, into a large empty space, and pirouetted there, absently.”

Sylvia Plath (1932–1963) American poet, novelist and short story writer

Source: CliffsNotes on Plath's The Bell Jar

Kathy Reichs photo
Henri Barbusse photo
Bryan Procter photo

“Touch us gently, Time!
Let us glide adown thy stream
Gently,—as we sometimes glide
Through a quiet dream.”

Bryan Procter (1787–1874) English poet

Touch us gently, Time, reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919). Compare "Time has touched me gently in his race, And left no odious furrows in my face", George Crabbe, Tales of the Hall, Book xvii., The Widow.

Friedrich Nietzsche photo
Emil M. Cioran photo
Helena Petrovna Blavatsky photo
Christopher Moore photo
Frank Herbert photo
Markus Zusak photo

“Things always seem to glide away.
They come to you, stay a moment, then leave again.”

Markus Zusak (1975) Australian author

Source: Getting the Girl

Homér photo
Herman Melville photo

“Beneath those stars is a universe of gliding monsters.”

Herman Melville (1818–1891) American novelist, short story writer, essayist, and poet
Jean-François Revel photo
Samuel Johnson photo
Lucy Larcom photo
Li Yu (Southern Tang) photo
Christopher Pitt photo
Jonah Goldberg photo
Francis Turner Palgrave photo
Georg Christoph Lichtenberg photo
Matthew Lewis (writer) photo
Letitia Elizabeth Landon photo

“My bark is on the ocean riding,
Like a spirit o'er it gliding;
Maiden, wilt thou come—and be
Queen of my fair ship and me?”

Letitia Elizabeth Landon (1802–1838) English poet and novelist

The Vow of the Peacock (1835)

Julian of Norwich photo
Letitia Elizabeth Landon photo
Philip Stanhope, 4th Earl of Chesterfield photo

“Cheerful with wisdom, with innocence gay,
And calm with your joys gently glide thro' the day.
The dews of the evening most carefully shun —
Those tears of the sky for the loss of the sun.”

Philip Stanhope, 4th Earl of Chesterfield (1694–1773) British statesman and man of letters

"Advice to a Lady in Autumn", published in A Collection of Poems in Six Volumes. By Several Hands. Vol. I. (1763), printed by J. Hughs, for R. and J. Dodsley

Scott Moir photo
H. Rider Haggard photo

“Where still the branches guarded the skin of ruddy hue, like to illumined cloud or to Iris when she ungirds her robe and glides to meet glowing Phoebus.”
Cuius adhuc rutilam servabant bracchia pellem, nubibus accensis similem aut cum veste recincta labitur ardenti Thaumantias obvia Phoebo.

Source: Argonautica, Book VIII, Lines 114–116

Tessa Virtue photo
Philip Larkin photo

“What was the rock my gliding childhood struck, / And what bright unreal path has led me here?”

Philip Larkin (1922–1985) English poet, novelist, jazz critic and librarian

Lines from an early poem, letter to J.B. Sutton, 16 April 1941

Théodore Guérin photo
David Lange photo

“Will the United States pull the rug on New Zealand? The answer is no. They might polish the lino a bit harder and hope that I execute a rather unseemly glide across it.”

David Lange (1942–2005) New Zealand politician and 32nd Prime Minister of New Zealand

Source: Gliding on the Lino: The Wit of David Lange", compiled by David Barber, 1987.

Halldór Laxness photo
José Rizal photo

“God has made man a cosmopolite. He created seas for ships to glide on, the wind to push them, and the stars to guide them even in darkest night.”

José Rizal (1861–1896) Filipino writer, ophthalmologist, polyglot and nationalist

"Los Viajes"

“p>One translucent day I leave the city
to visit my home, the land of Champa.Here are stupas gaunt with yearning,
ancient temples ruined by time,
streams that creep alone through the dark
past peeling statues that moan of Champa.Here are dense and drooping forests
where long processions, lost souls of Champa,
march; and evening spills through thick,
fragrant leaves, mingling with the cries of moorhens.Here is the field where two great armies
were reduced to a horde of clamoring souls.
Champa blood still cascades in streams of hatred
to grinding oceans filled with Champa bones.Here too are placid images: hamlets at rest
in evening sun, Champa girls gliding homeward,
their light chatter floating
with the pink and saffron of their dresses.Here are magnificent sunbaked palaces,
temples that blaze in cerulean skies.
Here battleships dream on the glossy river, while the thunder
of sacred elephants shakes the walls.Here, in opaque light sinking through lapis lazuli,
the Champa king and his men are lost in a maze of flesh
as dancers weave, wreathe, entranced,
their bodies harmonizing with the flutes.All this I saw on my way home years ago
and still I am obsessed,
my mind stunned, sagged with sorrow
for the race of Champa.”

Chế Lan Viên (1920–1989) Vietnamese writer

"On the Way Home", in A Thousand Years of Vietnamese Poetry, ed. Nguyễn Ngọc Bích (Alfred A. Knopf, 1975), p. 167; quoted in full in Buddhism & Zen in Vietnam by Thich Thien-an (Tuttle Publishing, 1992)

John Dryden photo

“Ye realms, yet unreveal'd to human sight,
Ye gods who rule the regions of the night,
Ye gliding ghosts, permit me to relate
The mystic wonders of your silent state!”

John Dryden (1631–1700) English poet and playwright of the XVIIth century

Aeneis, Book VI, lines 374–377.
The Works of Virgil (1697)

Letitia Elizabeth Landon photo
Joseph Goebbels photo

“I put down the oars and float endlessly as if to the eternal shore. Blue light of the moon shines on my sail. My boat is gliding to a secure haven. Only silent waves break against it. Deepest silence surrounds me and my soul builds a golden bridge to a star.”

Joseph Goebbels (1897–1945) Nazi politician and Propaganda Minister

Ich lege die Ruder ein und fahre endlos, wie einem ewigen Gestade zu. Mondlicht spielt blau auf meinem Segel. Mein Nachen gleitet in einen sicheren Hafen. Nur leise schlagen die Wellen an meinen Kahn. Die tiefste Stille ist um mich, und meine Seele spannt eine goldene Brücke zu einem Stern.
Michael: a German fate in diary notes (1926)

Willem Maris photo

“The cow exists for the light that comes to glide along and over the animal - the light doesn't exist for he cow.”

Willem Maris (1844–1910) Dutch landscape painter of the Hague School (1844-1910)

version in original Dutch / origineel citaat van Willem Maris: De koe is er om het licht, dat langs en over het dier komt glijden - het licht niet om de koe.

George Canning photo

“So down thy hill, romantic Ashbourn, glides
The Derby dilly, carrying three INSIDES.”

George Canning (1770–1827) British statesman and politician

The Loves of the Triangles, line 178.
Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919)

Abraham Cowley photo
James Russell Lowell photo

“Our slender life runs rippling by, and glides
Into the silent hollow of the past;
What is there that abides
To make the next age better for the last?”

James Russell Lowell (1819–1891) American poet, critic, editor, and diplomat

St. 3.
Ode Recited at the Harvard Commemoration http://www.readbookonline.net/readOnLine/1169/ (July 21, 1865)

“Ah! Postumus! Devotion fails
The lapse of gliding years to stay,
With wrinkled age it nought avails
Nor conjures conquering Death away.”

John Conington (1825–1869) British classical scholar

Book II, ode xiv
Translations, The Odes and Carmen Saeculare of Horace (1863)

Wilt Chamberlain photo

“After the first powerful plain manifesto
The black statement of pistons, without more fuss
But gliding like a queen, she leaves the station.”

Stephen Spender (1909–1995) English poet and man of letters

"The Express" (l. 1–3) in Norton Anthology of Modern Poetry (1988) edited by Richard Ellmann and Robert O’Clair

William Blake photo

“How sweet I roamed from field to field,
And tasted all the summer's pride,
Till I the prince of love beheld,
Who in the sunny beams did glide!”

William Blake (1757–1827) English Romantic poet and artist

Song (How Sweet I Roamed), st. 1
1780s, Poetical Sketches (1783)

David Thomas (born 1813) photo
W.E.B. Du Bois photo
Logan Pearsall Smith photo

“Perhaps not only in his attitude towards truth, but in his attitude towards himself, Montaigne was a precursor. Perhaps here again he was ahead of his own time, ahead of our time also, since none of us would have the courage to imitate him. It may be that some future century will vindicate this unseemly performance; in the meanwhile it will be of interest to examine the reasons which he gives us for it. He says, in the first place, that he found this study of himself, this registering of his moods and imaginations, extremely amusing; it was an exploration of an unknown region, full of the queerest chimeras and monsters, a new art of discovery, in which he had become by practice “the cunningest man alive.” It was profitable also, for most people enjoy their pleasures without knowing it; they glide over them, and fix and feed their minds on the miseries of life. But to observe and record one’s pleasant experiences and imaginations, to associate one’s mind with them, not to let them dully and unfeelingly escape us, was to make them not only more delightful but more lasting. As life grows shorter we should endeavour, he says, to make it deeper and more full. But he found moral profit also in this self-study; for how, he asked, can we correct our vices if we do not know them, how cure the diseases of our soul if we never observe their symptoms? The man who has not learned to know himself is not the master, but the slave of life: he is the “explorer without knowledge, the magistrate without jurisdiction, and when all is done, the fool of the play.””

Logan Pearsall Smith (1865–1946) British American-born writer

“Montaigne,” p. 6
Reperusals and Recollections (1936)

Henry Adams photo
Gregory Scott Paul photo
Kenneth Grahame photo
Robert E. Howard photo

“I'm not going to vote. I won't vote for a Catholic and I won't vote for a damned Republican. Maybe I've said that before. My ancestors were all Catholic and not very far back. And I have reason to hate the church.
I feel a curious kinship, though, with the Middle Ages. I have been more successful in selling tales laid in that period of time, than in any other. Truth it was an epoch for strange writers. Witches and werewolves, alchemists and necromancers, haunted the brains of those strange savage people, barbaric children that they were, and the only thing which was never believed was the truth. Those sons of the old pagan tribes were wrought upon by priest and monk, and they brought all their demons from their mythology and accepted all the demons of the new creed also, turning their old gods into devils. The slight knowledge which filtered through the monastaries from the ancient sources of decayed Greece and fallen Rome, was so distorted and perverted that by the time it reached the people, it resembled some monstrous legend. And the vague minded savages further garbed it in heathen garments. Oh, a brave time, by Satan! Any smooth rogue could swindle his way through life, as he can today, but then there was pageantry and high illusion and vanity, and the beloved tinsel of glory without which life is not worth living.
I hate the devotees of great wealth but I enjoy seeing the splendor that wealth can buy. And if I were wealthy, I'd live in a place with marble walls and marble floors, lapis lazulis ceilings and cloth-of-gold and I would have silver fountains in the courts, flinging an everlasting sheen of sparkling water in the air. Soft low music should breathe forever through the rooms and slim tigerish girls should glide through on softly falling feet, serving all the wants of me and my guests; girls with white bare limbs like molten gold and soft dreamy eyes.”

Robert E. Howard (1906–1936) American author

From a letter to Harold Preece (received October 20, 1928)
Letters

Francis Turner Palgrave photo
George Carlin photo

“We are on a nice downward glide. I call it circling the drain … And the circles get smaller and smaller and faster and faster, if you watch the sink empty… Huish! And we'll be gone. And that's fine. I welcome it. I wish I could live 1000 years to watch it happen. From a distance — so I can see it all.”

George Carlin (1937–2008) American stand-up comedian

Archive of American Television http://www.emmytvlegends.org/interviews/people/george-carlin, from one of Carlin's final interviews (2008)
Interviews, Television Appearances

Jack London photo
Ralph Waldo Emerson photo

“Four snakes gliding up and down a hollow for no purpose that I could see — not to eat, not for love, but only gliding.”

Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803–1882) American philosopher, essayist, and poet

11 April 1834
1820s, Journals (1822–1863)

John Fante photo
Harry Chapin photo
Thomas Noon Talfourd photo
Silius Italicus photo

“When Hannibal's eyes were sated with the picture of all that valour, he saw next a marvellous sight—the sea suddenly flung upon the land with the mass of the rising deep, and no encircling shores, and the fields inundated by the invading waters. For, where Nereus rolls forth from his blue caverns and churns up the waters of Neptune from the bottom, the sea rushes forward in flood, and Ocean, opening his hidden springs, rushes on with furious waves. Then the water, as if stirred to the depths by the fierce trident, strives to cover the land with the swollen sea. But soon the water turns and glides back with ebbing tide; and then the ships, robbed of the sea, are stranded, and the sailors, lying on their benches, await the waters' return. It is the Moon that stirs this realm of wandering Cymothoe and troubles the deep; the Moon, driving her chariot through the sky, draws the sea this way and that, and Tethys follows with ebb and flow.”
Postquam oculos varia implevit virtutis imago, mira dehinc cernit: surgentis mole profundi injectum terris subitum mare nullaque circa litora et infuso stagnantis aequore campos. nam qua caeruleis Nereus evoluitur antris atque imo freta contorquet Neptunia fundo, proruptum exundat pelagus, caecosque relaxans Oceanus fontis torrentibus ingruit undis. tum uada, ceu saevo penitus permota tridenti, luctantur terris tumefactum imponere pontum. mox remeat gurges tractoque relabitur aestu, ac ratis erepto campis deserta profundo, et fusi transtris expectant aequora nautae. Cymothoes ea regna vagae pelagique labores Luna mouet, Luna, immissis per caerula bigis, fertque refertque fretum, sequiturque reciproca Tethys.

Postquam oculos varia implevit virtutis imago,
mira dehinc cernit: surgentis mole profundi
injectum terris subitum mare nullaque circa
litora et infuso stagnantis aequore campos.
nam qua caeruleis Nereus evoluitur antris
atque imo freta contorquet Neptunia fundo,
proruptum exundat pelagus, caecosque relaxans
Oceanus fontis torrentibus ingruit undis.
tum uada, ceu saevo penitus permota tridenti,
luctantur terris tumefactum imponere pontum.
mox remeat gurges tractoque relabitur aestu,
ac ratis erepto campis deserta profundo,
et fusi transtris expectant aequora nautae.
Cymothoes ea regna vagae pelagique labores
Luna mouet, Luna, immissis per caerula bigis,
fertque refertque fretum, sequiturque reciproca Tethys.
Book III, lines 45–60
Punica

Samuel Johnson photo
Andrew Marvell photo

“Casting the body's vest aside,
My soul into the boughs does glide.”

Andrew Marvell (1621–1678) English metaphysical poet and politician

The Garden (1650-1652)

Max Ernst photo
John Muir photo
Walter Scott photo

“Where lives the man that has not tried
How mirth can into folly glide,
And folly into sin!”

Walter Scott (1771–1832) Scottish historical novelist, playwright, and poet

Bridal of Triermain, canto i. Stanza 21.
Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919)

George Eliot photo
Samuel Johnson photo

“An age that melts in unperceiv'd decay,
And glides in modest innocence away.”

Samuel Johnson (1709–1784) English writer

Source: Vanity of Human Wishes (1749), Line 293

Joanna Baillie photo

“Oh, swiftly glides the bonnie boat,
Just parted from the shore,
And to the fisher's chorus-note,
Soft moves the dipping oar!”

Joanna Baillie (1762–1851) Scottish poet and dramatist

Song, Oh, Swiftly glides the Bonnie Boat; reported in Hoyt's New Cyclopedia Of Practical Quotations (1922), p. 74.

Francis Parkman photo
William Morris photo
Harriet Beecher Stowe photo

“… please note that Obama admits he was lying when he said he never heard Rev. Wright utter these “fierce criticisms.” Are we supposed to just glide right past that?”

Charles Foster Johnson (1953) American musician

March 14, 2008 http://littlegreenfootballs.com/article/29321_Obama-_Rev_Wright_is_An_Occasionally_Fierce_Critic_of_American_Domestic_and_Foreign_Policy&only

Mona Charen photo
Tom Petty photo

“I wanna glide down over Mulholland.
I wanna write her name in the sky.
Gonna free fall out into nothing.
Gonna leave this world for a while.”

Tom Petty (1950–2017) American musician

Free Fallin
Lyrics, Full Moon Fever (1989)

Neil Young photo

“Where the eagle glides ascending
There's an ancient river bending
Through the timeless gorge of changes
Where sleeplessness awaits.”

Neil Young (1945) Canadian singer-songwriter

Thrasher
Song lyrics, Rust Never Sleeps (1978)

Bob Dylan photo

“Of war and peace the truth just twist, its curfew gull it glides.”

Bob Dylan (1941) American singer-songwriter, musician, author, and artist

Song lyrics, Bringing It All Back Home (1965), Gates of Eden

George Gordon Byron photo
Ray Kurzweil photo
John Ogilby photo

“His active Soul a thousand waies divides,
And swift through all imaginations glides.”

John Ogilby (1600–1676) Scottish academic

The Works of Publius Virgilius Maro (2nd ed. 1654), Virgil's Æneis

Virgil photo

“Ye realms, yet unrevealed to human sight,
Ye gods who rule the regions of the night,
Ye gliding ghosts, permit me to relate
The mystic wonders of your silent state!”

Di, quibus imperium est animarum, umbraeque silentes, Et Chaos, et Phlegethon, loca nocte tacentia late, Sit mihi fas audita loqui: sit numine vestro Pandere res alta terra et caligine mersas.

Source: Aeneid (29–19 BC), Book VI, Lines 264–267 (tr. John Dryden)

Giacomo Casanova photo

“The reader of these Memoirs will discover that I never had any fixed aim before my eyes, and that my system, if it can be called a system, has been to glide away unconcernedly on the stream of life, trusting to the wind wherever it led.”

Giacomo Casanova (1725–1798) Italian adventurer and author from the Republic of Venice

Memoirs of J. Casanova de Seingalt (1894)
Context: The reader of these Memoirs will discover that I never had any fixed aim before my eyes, and that my system, if it can be called a system, has been to glide away unconcernedly on the stream of life, trusting to the wind wherever it led. How many changes arise from such an independent mode of life!

Joel Barlow photo

“I sing the sweets I know, the charms I feel,
My morning incense, and my evening meal,
The sweets of Hasty-Pudding. Come, dear bowl,
Glide o'er my palate, and inspire my soul.”

Joel Barlow (1754–1812) American diplomat

Canto 1: st. 1, lines 1–10
The Hasty-Pudding (1793)
Context: Despise it not, ye Bards to terror steel'd,
Who hurl'd your thunders round the epic field;
Nor ye who strain your midnight throats to sing
Joys that the vineyard and the still-house bring;
Or on some distant fair your notes employ,
And speak of raptures that you ne'er enjoy.
I sing the sweets I know, the charms I feel,
My morning incense, and my evening meal,
The sweets of Hasty-Pudding. Come, dear bowl,
Glide o'er my palate, and inspire my soul.

Wilbur Wright photo

“We figured that Lilienthal in five years of time had spent only about five hours in actual gliding through the air. The wonder was not that he had done so little, but that he had accomplished so much.”

Wilbur Wright (1867–1912) American aviation pioneer

Speech to the Western Society of Engineers (18 September 1901); published in the Journal of the Western Society of Engineers (December 1901); republished with revisions by the author for the Annual Report of the Board of Regents of the Smithsonian Institution (1902)
Context: Herr Otto Lilienthal seems to have been the first man who really comprehended that balancing was the first instead of the last of the great problems in connection with human flight. He began where others left off, and thus saved the many thousands of dollars that it had theretofore been customary to spend in building and fitting expensive engines to machines which were uncontrollable when tried. He built a pair of wings of a size suitable to sustain his own weight, and made use of gravity as his motor. This motor not only cost him nothing to begin with, but it required no expensive fuel while in operation, and never had to be sent to the shop for repairs. It had one serious drawback, however, in that it always insisted on fixing the conditions under which it would work. These were, that the man should first betake himself and machine to the top of a hill and fly with a downward as well as a forward motion. Unless these conditions were complied with, gravity served no better than a balky horse — it would not work at all...
We figured that Lilienthal in five years of time had spent only about five hours in actual gliding through the air. The wonder was not that he had done so little, but that he had accomplished so much. It would not be considered at all safe for a bicycle rider to attempt to ride through a crowded city street after only five hours’ practice, spread out in bits of ten seconds each over a period of five years; yet Lilienthal with this brief practice was remarkably successful in meeting the fluctuations and eddies of wind gusts. We thought that if some method could be found by which it would be possible to practice by the hour instead of by the second there would be hope of advancing the solution of a very difficult problem.

Toni Morrison photo
J. Howard Moore photo

“In their phenomena of life the inhabitants of the earth display endless variety. They swim in the waters, soar in the skies, squeeze among the rocks, clamber among the trees, scamper over the plains, and glide among the grounds and grasses. Some are born for a summer, some for a century, and some flutter their little lives out in a day. They are black, white, blue, golden, all the colours of the spectrum. Some are wise and some are simple; some are large and some are microscopic; some live in castles and some in bluebells; some roam over continents and seas, and some doze their little day-dream away on a single dancing leaf. But they are all the children of a commion mother and the co-tenants of a common world. Why they are here in this world rather than some place else; why the world in which they find themselves is so full of the undesirable; and whether it would not have been better if the ball on which they ride and riot had been in the beginning sterilised, are problems too deep and baffling for the most of them. But since they are here, and since they are too proud or too superstitious to die, and are surrounded by such cold and wolfish immensities, what would seem more proper than for them to be kind to each other, and helpful, and dwell together as loving and forbearing members of One Great Family?”

J. Howard Moore (1862–1916)

"Conclusion", pp. 324–325
The Universal Kinship (1906), The Ethical Kinship

George Jones photo
Bill Bryson photo

“Making models was reputed to be hugely enjoyable… But when you got the kit home and opened the box the contents turned out to be of a uniform leaden gray or olive green, consisting of perhaps sixty thousand tiny parts, some no larger than a proton, all attached in some organic, inseparable way to plastic stalks like swizzle sticks. The tubes of glue by contrast were the size of large pastry tubes. No matter how gently you depressed them they would blurp out a pint or so of a clear viscous goo whose one instinct was to attach itself to some foreign object—a human finger, the living-room drapes, the fur of a passing animal—and become an infinitely long string. Any attempt to break the string resulted in the creation of more strings. Within moments you would be attached to hundreds of sagging strands, all connected to something that had nothing to do with model airplanes or World War II. The only thing the glue wouldn’t stick to, interestingly, was a piece of plastic model; then it just became a slippery lubricant that allowed any two pieces of model to glide endlessly over each other, never drying. The upshot was that after about forty minutes of intensive but troubled endeavor you and your immediate surroundings were covered in a glistening spiderweb of glue at the heart of which was a gray fuselage with one wing on upside down and a pilot accidentally but irremediably attached by his flying cap to the cockpit ceiling. Happily by this point you were so high on the glue that you didn’t give a shit about the pilot, the model, or anything else.”

Source: The Life And Times of the Thunderbolt Kid (2006), p. 81

Arun Shourie photo