Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Abruptness. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Abruptness Quotes And Sayings by 96 Authors including Henri Cartier-Bresson,Ann Voskamp,Kate Morton,Giuseppe Garibaldi,Anna Quindlen for you to enjoy and share.
There is nothing in this world that does not have a decisive moment.
Without expectations, what can topple the surprising wonder of the moment?
There were moments in which a person reached a crossroads, when something happened, out of the blue, to change the course of life's events.
A bold onset is half the battle.
Sometimes change came all at once, with a sound like a fire taking hold of dry wood and paper, with a roar that rose around you so you couldn't hear yourself think. And then, when the roar died down, even when the fires were damped, everything was different.
Everything suddenly seems displaced, subtle gradations erase borders, but it's more forceful than that.
Departure should be sudden.
A brief rustling that broke off short, as if startled at itself, then deadly silence, that agonising, watchful hush, fraught with its own betrayal, that stretched each minute to an excruciating eternity.
See for me, it's immediate. Silence is so freaking loud.' This seemed either deep or deeply oxymoronic. I wasn't sure which.
Nothing is sudden in nature: whereas the slightest storms are forecasted several days in advance, the destruction of the world must have been announced several years beforehand by heat waves, by winds, by meteorites, in short, by an infinity of phenomena.
In all my wild mountaineering, I have enjoyed only one avalanche ride; and the start was so sudden, and the end came so soon, I thought but little of the danger that goes with this sort of travel, though one thinks fast at such times.
Quick now, here, now, always, as if we are in a condition of complete simplicity ...
There is this strangeness of a life story having no shape - or more accurately, nothing but its present - until it has its ending; and then suddenly the whole trajectory is visible.
A gust of wind doesn't suddenly bang a door open. A clock doesn't chime. The phone doesn't ring. Yet in the next instant the stillness breaks as if it is crystal.
The air shuddered with the beginning of absence.
Now and again we would happen to step out of the familiar universe into a sudden sharp shock of sweetly scented air, sudden as spilled perfume, piercing as crystal, dark and sweet as the sound of oboes.
For one, dazzling, infinite moment, August felt like he was standing on a precipice, the end of one world and the beginning of another, a whisper and a bang.
One minute the teacher was talking about the Civil War. And the next minute he was gone. There. Gone. No 'poof.' No flash of light. No explosion.
The world is certainty a sudden place.
One of the elements of writing that is most delightful to the engaged reader is the element of surprise. And one of the ways to surprise the reader is to set up an expectation that you then veer away from it at the last moment. A stitch in time saves the penny earned. Or something like that.
The leaving happened slowly, gradually, as these things do, and before we knew it, we were lost to each other, as if a magician had whisked a cloth off the table, leaving the dishes there, jolted. And when we looked back it was all a blur, time on fast forward, hurtling to an inevitable conclusion.
abruptly stopping. I don't care. I'm no more dangerous than Mr. Taylor. I
A volley of hailstones began abruptly, filled the woods with a frenzied percussion & ended on the sudden.
The shock of the real.
Some of life's moments mark a break in consciousness; others give rise to streams of scintillating, philosophical ideas or astonishing works of art; still others, to important meeting or profound personal upheavals.
Instantaneous interpretation hails from the Limbo that produced unsensed sensibilia, unconscious inference, incorrigible statements, negative facts and Objektive. These are ideas which philosophers force on the world to preserve some pet epistemological or metaphysical theory.
You write a scene, and it works or it doesn't. It's immediate.
His climax began gathering again, rising toward a point of no return. He didn't know if he could restrain himself this time: He was too close, too near to being overwhelmed.
She cried out, trembling exclamations.
He lost all control, his release hot, violent, and endless.
God's movement is often abrupt and unsettling rather than predictable and settling.
Nature, like a true poet, abhors abrupt transitions.
A Moment's Halt-a momentary taste
Of BEING from the Well amid the Waste-
And, Lo! the phantom Caravan has reach'd
The NOTHING it set out from. Oh, make haste!
Suddenly I'm as if cast out,
and this solitude surrounds me
as something vast and unbounded,
when my feeling, standing on the hills
of my breasts, cries out for wings
or for an end.
How quickly a moment sinks into the past.
A Pause tends the existence of any definition to its end.
We only really know what is new, what suddenly introduces to our sensibility a change of tone which strikes us, that for which habit has not yet substituted its pale fac-similes.
The world was abruptly sharp and clear, too clear, and too alive. It was terrible beyond words. The
Balance was so elusive: either it was like this, too fast, or there was the heavy thing like wading through a swamp to get to the end of a sentence.
Suddenly I see (Suddenly I see)
This is what I wanna be
Suddenly I see (Suddenly I see)
Why the hell it means so much to me.
The world is so unpredictable.
Things happen suddenly, unexpectedly.
We want to feel we are in control of our own existence.
In some ways we are , in some ways we are not ...
Many books open with an author's assurance of order. One slipped into their waters with a silent paddle ... But novels commenced with hesitation or chaos. Readers were never fully in balance. A door a lock a weir opened and they rushed through, one hand holding a gunnel, the other a hat.
Change came so slowly you never noticed it creeping up on you, or far too fast for comfort, but it came.
Awkward approximations, dull stammerings which cannot convey my sense of exhilaration as I seem to burst impediments, to exceed bounds of the possible, to experience, in the ruins of the human, the birth of something utterly new.
A moment of disruption is where the conversation about disruption often begins, even though determining that moment is entirely hindsight.
Late
for the present, I suppose
accentuated each time
you see, quick enough
this fraction of earth
underfoot
that upright speech
imprints,
like the whole of being
resumes
We've hit on something like lightning strikes
Whoever thought the immediate alternates with the immediate action is not an abstract painter.
I once heard somebody express surprise that instead of following it onward one should not take a cut across Time to secure a moment which, stretching out in line with oneself, would last indefinitely.
Like a highstorm, regular in their coming, yet always unexpected.
First a warning, musical; then the hour, irrevocable. The leaden circles dissolved in the air.
The lights disappear,
The elevator shudders,
Stalls,
Quits.
All in the same nanosecond.
All that exists is darkness so thick I can't think,
And Travis so close I can't breathe.
And then, suddenly, something is over.
Let's take the instant by the forward top;
For we are old, and on our quick'st decrees
The inaudible and noiseless foot of Time
Steals ere we can effect them.
Writers and artists know that ethereal moment, when just one, fleeting something
a chill, an echo, the click of a lamp, a question - -ignites the flame of an entire work that blazes suddenly into consciousness.
It is the nature of beginning that something new is started which cannot be expected from whatever may have happened before. This character of startling unexpectedness is inherent in all beginnings.
Death, however long expected, is sudden at the last ...
By a curious perversity, the human mind refuses to behave itself on the occasions when it should be intensely dramatic. It was so now; the climber suddenly forgot his fears in a smile. The choir had chosen this precise moment to start the Nunc Dimittis.
I have been accused of being somewhat abrupt in my actions and decisions, but I never act without thought; it is simply that I think more quickly and more intelligently than most people.
A sentence starts out like a lone traveler heading into a blizzard at midnight, tilting into the wind, one arm shielding his face, the tails of his thin coat flapping behind him.
The rattling thunderbolt hath but his clap, the lightning but his flash, and as they both come in a moment, so do they both end in a minute.
The sense of endings as well as beginnings in the air is now so obvious in so many dimensions of our experience that a critical mass has been reached.
strong, stirring instant as with fascinated eyes I watched
The music passed in an instant, as the first bars of sudden music always did, over the fantastic fabrics of his mind, dissolving them painlessly and noiselessly as a sudden wave dissolves the sandbuilt turrets of children.
You never knew which split second might be the zigzag bolt dividing all that went before from the everything that comes next.
There's something about the shape that a poem takes in my mind before I write it that has to do with suddenness.
All farewells should be sudden, when forever.
Endings that are muted, but which echo longer in the memory than louder, more explosive denouements.
At the moment you are no longer an observing, reflecting being; you have ceased to be aware of yourself; you exist only in that quiet, steady thrill that is so unlike any excitement that you have ever known.
The World is not enough used to this way of writing, to the moment. It knows not that in the minutiae lie often the unfoldings ofthe Story, as well as of the heart; and judges of an action undecided, as if it were absolutely decided.
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.
Abruptly he started the car and put it in gear and drove away, trying not to look back. And of course he did, and of course the porch was empty. They had gone back inside. It was as if the Overlook had swallowed them.
That earliest shock in one's life which occurs to all of us; which first makes us think.
To make a simple change of a typeface can instantly transform text which had the appearance and tone of a joyous announcement to suddenly convey that of a somber tragedy.
The nearer a conception comes towards finality, the nearer does the dynamic relation, out of which this concept has arisen, draw to a close. To know is to lose.
Somehow I have been stunned. Stand back!
Give me a little time beyond my cuffed head and slumbers
and dreams and gaping,
I discover myself on the verge of the usual mistake.
Sometimes, when there's been an accident and reality is too sudden and strange to comprehend, the surreal will take over. Action slows to a dreamlike glide, frame by frame; the motion of a hand, a sentence spoken, fills an eternity.
O gentlemen, the time of life is short!
To spend that shortness basely were too long,
If life did ride upon a dial's point,
Still ending at the arrival of an hour.
Voltage crossed the distance between Sheila and Webster. A current composed of anger and remorse and something else-the last flicker of attraction
Dramatic experience is not logical; it may be subdued to the kind of coherence that we indicate when we speak, in criticism, of form.
When the amount of change externally exceeds the amount of change internally, the end is in sight.
Sometimes a moment is so remarkable that it carves out a space in time and spins there, while the world rushes on around it. This was one such.
The pause ... where wisdom has space to appear
I knew that in the last
few minutes everything had
changed. I'd tried to hold myself apart, showing only what I wanted, doling out
bits and pieces of who I
was. But that only works for so long. Eventually, even the smallest fragments
can't help but make a
whole.
The eagerness of a listener quickens the tongue of a narrator.
Amidst the rush of worldly comings and goings, I observe how all endings become beginnings
We could not help contrasting the equanimity of Nature with the bustle and impatience of man. His words and actions presume alwaysa crisis near at hand, but she is forever silent and unpretending.
The timeless instant passed.
The well-known shrill voice startled Almayer from his dream of splendid future into the unpleasant realities of the present hour. An unpleasant voice too. He had heard it for many years, and with every year he liked it less. No matter; there would be an end to all this soon.
At length their long kiss severed, with sweet smart:And as the last slow sudden drops are shedFrom sparkling eaves when all the storm has fled,So singly flagged the pulses of each heart.
sputtered and then
The Electric Monk's day was going tremendously well and he broke into an excited gallop. That is to say that, excitedly, he spurred his horse to a gallop and, unexcitedly, his horse broke into it.
THINGS HAVE ENDS AND BEGINNINGS Cloud mountains rise over mountain range. Silence and quietness, sky bright as water, sky bright as lake water. Grace is the instinct for knowing when to stop. And where.
As people, we love pattern. But interrupted pattern is more interesting.
At times I have been rendered breathless by the impeccable chaoticism, the absolutely perfect nonsense of some spectacle taking place outside myself, or, on the other hand, some spectacle of equally senseless outrageousness taking place within me.
I have a strong propensity in me to begin this chapter very nonsensically, and I will not balk my fancy.
Accordingly I set off thus:
The panic, a voice in the distance -loud enough to hear, but quiet enough to ignore.
Continuous eloquence wearies. Grandeur must be abandoned to be appreciated. Continuity in everything is unpleasant. Cold is agreeable, that we may get warm.
The suddenness of it all. And the permanence. The lonely reality of the truth.
Everything inside of me stops - my heart, my breath. Then it all kicks up again,
hard and insistent.
It's possible to keep drawing this moment out, any moment, hammering it thinner and thinner like beaten gold, like iced chablis, whipping it, whipping it to cheap perfume, each word blown to aneurysm.
Antisappointment. Anticipation colliding head-on with the certainty of its own doom.
The author likens crisis, and particularly war, to stop motion photography in its capacity to make changes plain that are ordinarily too gradual to be seen.