Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Firmament. 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 Firmament Quotes And Sayings by 91 Authors including T.h. White,Siri Hustvedt,T. S. Eliot,Oliver Goldsmith,Herman Melville for you to enjoy and share.
He knew suddenly that nobody, living upon the remotest, most barren crag in the ocean, could complain of a dull landscape so long as he would lift his eyes. In the sky there was a new landscape every minute, in every pool of the sea rocks, a new world.
The fictive is an emormous territory it turns out, its boundaries vague, and there is little certainty about where it begins and ends.
Paint me the bold anfractuous rocks Faced by the snarled and yelping seas.
As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form, Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm,- Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread, Eternal sunshine settles on its head.
All deep, earnest thinking is but the intrepid effort of the soul to keep the open independence of her sea
A caldera, it's called - a sort of mountain in reverse. A mountain that's had its very heart removed.
Lo! on a narrow neck of land,
'Twixt two unbounded seas, I stand.
Secure, insensible.
Sand-strewn caverns, cool and deep, Where the winds are all asleep; Where the spent lights quiver and gleam; Where the salt weed sways in the stream.
Despair snuffs the sun from the firmament.
That pit of blackness that lies beneath us, everywhere ... the firmest substance of human happiness is but a thin crust spread over it, with just reality enough to bear up the illusive stage-scenery amid which we tread. It needs no earthquake to open the chasm.
Bright morning comes; the bloody-fingered dawn with zealous light sets seas of air ablaze and bends to earth another false beginning. My eyes open like cornflowers, stick, crusted with their own stale dew, then take that light.
His mind has the clearness of the deep sea, the patience of its rocks, the force of its billows.
I have seen the sea lashed into fury and tossed into spray, and its grandeur moves the soul of the dullest man; but I remember that it is not the billows, but the calm level of the sea from which all heights and depths are measured.
I looked up from that churning amphitheater to the view beyond it.
The great, gray eye of the sky looked back at me, its mist-shrouded sun focusing
all the white and silent distances that poured from every point of the compass, hill after pale hill, to stall at my feet.
Yonder cloud That rises upward always higher, And onward drags a laboring breast, And topples round the dreary west, A looming bastion fringed with fire.
Axiom: you are a sea. Your eye- lids curve over chaos My hands where they touch you, create small inhabited islands soon you will be all earth: a known land, a country.
Quoth the Ocean, Dawn! O fairest, clearest, Touch me with thy golden fingers bland; For I have no smile till thou appearest For the lovely land.
The sun, coming hard around the world: the island rises from the sea, sinks, rises, holds.
The splendors of the firmament of time
May be eclipsed, but are extinguished not;
Like stars to their appointed height they climb
And death is a low mist which cannot blot
The brightness it may veil.
For now I stand as one upon a rock environed with a wilderness of sea, who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave, expecting ever when some envious surge will in his brinish bowels swallow him.
The young world was without a spring: it knew nothing beyond rock and water. There was the colour of open skies and of sunrise and sunset. The only sounds came from the movement of water, whether of rain or streams or waves, from thunder, and from wind sweeping across rock.
Nevertheless there are certain peaks, canons, and clear meadow spaces which are above all compassing of words, and have a certain fame as of the nobly great to whom we give no familiar names.
Look to the East, where up the lucid sky; the morning climbs! The day shall yet be fair.
The most peerless piece of earth, I think, that e' er the sun shone bright on.
The atmosphere beneath is languorous, and is so tinged with azure that what artists call the middle distance partakes also of that hue, while the horizon beyond is of the deepest ultramarine.
What shall we call this undetermin'd state,
This narrow isthmus 'twixt two boundless oceans,
That whence we came, and that to which we tend?
Glimpses do ye seem to see of that mortally intolerable truth; that all deep, earnest thinking is but the intrepid effort of the soul to keep the open independence of her sea; while the wildest winds of heaven and earth conspire to cast her on the treacherous, slavish shore.
A great sorrow, like a mariner's quadrant, brings the sun at noon down to the horizon, and we learn where we are on the sea of life.
To the east, the night grew a faggot of luminous grey, then seashell opalescence that dimmed the stars. There came the long, bell-tolling movement of dawn striking across a broken horizon.
Broad based upon her people's will, And compassed by the inviolate sea.
Bianca Nazario stands at the end of the world. The firmament above is as blue as the summer skies of her childhood, mirrored in the waters of la caldera; but where the skies she remembers were bounded by mountains, here on Sky there is no horizon, only a line of white cloud.
The earth's distances invite the eye. And as the eye reaches, so must the mind stretch to meet these new horizons. I challenge anyone to stand with autumn on a hilltop and fail to see a new expanse not only around him, but in him, too.
In what rapt ether sails the world, of which the weariest will never weary?
Heart's wave could not curl and break beautifully into the foam of spirit, unless the ageless silent rock of destiny stood in its path.
Tell me once more about the eternal surf.
New constellations of truth are daily discovered in the firmament of knowledge, and new stars are daily shining forth in each constellation.
Over endless crystalline waves travelled the sparkling scent of triumph, of limitless possibilities, of strength and inspiration.
Ah, the ocean. The movement of eternity right in front of us." (61)
All night sheetlightning quaked sourceless to the west beyond the midnight thunderheads, making a bluish day of the distant desert, the mountains on the sudden skyline stark and black and livid like a land of some other order out there whose true geology was not stone but fear.
The sun rose on the flawless brimming sea into a sky all brazen-all one brightening for gods immortal and for mortal men on plowlands kind with grain.
Clear, unscaleable ahead, Rise the mountains of instead From whose cold, cascading streams None may drink except in dreams
There is an eternal landscape, a geography of the soul; we search for its outlines all our lives.
There is a seaward bulge of stratocumulus. Sun glint and littoral drift. I see blooms of plankton in a blue of such Persian richness it seems an animal rapture, a colour change to express some form of intuitive delight.
The night below. We two. Crystal of pain.
You wept over great distances.
My ache was a clutch of agonies
over your sickly heart of sand.
The sky is a tight gray sheet of Baroque prose pulled snug
Ah, not to be cut off,
not through the slightest partition
shut out from the law of the stars.
The inner
what is it?
if not the intensified sky,
hurled through with birds and deep
with the winds of homecoming.
It was the gray sea that bore you and the towering rocks, so sheer the heart in you is turned from us.
Firmness is great; persistency is greater.
Who thinks, at night, that morn will ever be? Who knows, far out upon the central sea, That anywhere is land? And yet, a shore Has set behind us, and will rise before: A past foretells a future ...
Looks out over the water, the ocean that changes and never changes. Horizons that seem like endings but only bend farther into the sky, curving into something new, beginning all over again.
Desperately knocking against the blind little world, i loosened one of its planks, opening a window to a new, wider world. There, spread out, was a profusion of geography, of atmosphere, of full empty air.
vague as a soft copper pulse of moonlight through blossoming sea coast fog.
Seas roll to waft me, suns to light me rise; My footstool earth, my canopy the skies.
Tis said, fantastic ocean doth enfold The likeness of whate'er on land is seen.
Come watch with me the shaft of fire that glows in yonder West; the fair, frail palaces, The fading Alps and archipelagoes and great cloud continents of sunset-seas.
Overhead the sky was melting, the cracked cream color rubbing off in cogs of brine.
The fields far ahead of me in endless pudding, studded here and there with what had been: homes and houses, hair and heirlooms, habits, hallways, hauntings, hope.
Like an ocean, a clarity where longing gets started.
And over my head," relates Squire Haligast, "it form'd an E-clipse, an emptiness in the Sky, with a Cloud-shap'd Line drawn all about it, wherein words might appear, and it read, - 'No King . . .
O Mariner-soul, Thy quest is but begun, There are new worlds Forever to be won.
The dewy night unrolls a heaven thickly jewelled with sparkling stars
When scattered clouds are resting on the bosoms of hills, it seems as if one might climb into the heavenly region, earth being so intermixed with sky, and gradually transformed into it.
In such a strait the wisest may well be perplexed and the boldest staggered.
Where sky and water meet,
Where the waves grow sweet,
Doubt not, Reepicheep,
To find all you seek, There is the utter East.
From this arid sphere every discourse and every poem sets forth; and every journey
through forests, battles, treasures, banquets, bedchambers, brings us back here, to the center
of an empty horizon.
...great eager mists flock to heaven laden with lore, and oceanward eyes on the rocks see only a mystic whiteness, as if the cliff's rim were the rim of all earth, and the solemn bells of buoys tolled free in the aether of faery.
It stretched forever until it met a gray-blue sky lined with pale cerise, a sky perpetually caught in the moments before sunrise.
The dew-bead Gem of earth and sky begotten.
The sea stretched to the edge of the sky, overwhelming, and liberating, and soothing all at once.
The firmament breaks up. In black eclipse Light after light goes out. One evil star, Luridly glaring through the smoke of war, As in the dream of the Apocalypse, Drags others down.
A sea to intensely blue to be looked at, and a sky of purple, set with one great flaming jewel of fire ...
Floating upward through a confusion of dreams and memory, curving like a trout through the rings of previous risings, I surface. My eyes open. I am awake.
Though Fin couldn't see it, she felt the closeness of land around her. From beyond the grey veil she could sense the oppressive weight of two great continents crowding down to the sea, each to kneel and contemplate the nearness of an ancient earthen brother.
Now from the smooth deep ocean-stream the sun
Began to climb the heavens, and with new rays
Smote the surrounding fields.
I feel as if I were nearer to the vitals of the globe, for this sandy overflow is something such a foliaceous mass as the vitals of the animal body.
A few amber clouds floated in the sky without a breath of air to move them. The horizon was of a fine golden tint, changing gradually into a pure apple-green, and from that into the deep blue of the mid-heaven.
What folly takes light through ether to each eye from every horizon.
I could see tongues of dense fog licking over the ridge in the distance, where this world ended and the next one began, cold, damp, and sunless.
Dark-heaving; boundless, endless, and sublime,
The image of Eternity,
the throne
Of the Invisible! even from out thy slime
The monsters of the deep are made; each zone
Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.
The north! the north! from out the north What founts of light are breaking forth, And streaming up these evening skies, A glorious wonder to our eyes!
Surrender the vert platonic bond tying your soul to mine craft, the sky fades a pink shadow cast.
The pale stars are gone! For the sun, their swift shepherd, To their folds them compelling, In the depths of the dawn, Hastes, in meteor-eclipsing array, and the flee Beyond his blue dwelling, As fawns flee the leopard.
The sky is the soul of all scenery. It makes the earth lovely at sunrise and splendid at sunset. In the one it breathes over the earth a crystal-like ether, in the other a liquid gold.
The region is a desert of stones, a solitude with a character of its own, an arid spot, which could only be inhabited by beings who had either attained to absolute nullity, or were gifted with some abnormal strength of soul.
The sea, the snotgreen sea, the scrotumtightening sea.
crust. It's strange, this story of mine. A tale that starts somewhere in chapter twenty and ends who knows where.
When you grow up by the sea, you spend a good deal of time looking at the horizon. You wonder what on Earth the waves might bring - and where the sea might deposit you - until one day you know you have lived between two places, the scene of arrival and the point of departure.
We may observe in some of the abrupt grounds we meet with, sections of great masses of strata, where it is as easy to read the history of the sea, as it is to read the history of Man in the archives of any nation.
Over all the sky - the sky! Far, far out of reach, studded with eternal stars.
I lived for a long time under vast porticos
That maritime suns tinted with a thousand fires,
And whose great pillars, straight and majestuous
In the evening made seem like basaltic caves.
The sun, centre and sire of light, The keystone of the world-built arch of heaven.
Above him was a clear blue sky, and the sun's vast orb quivered like a huge hollow, crimson float on the surface of that milky sea of mist.
What see you in the horizon's bruised smear
That cannot be blotted out
By your raised hand?
The sea at springtime.All day it rises and falls,yes, rises and falls.
Morning. Vast. Imprecision. Fog has covered everything in gray
absolute. This has lasted. Doubt looms over the mind. Absence
is harder to accept than death.
What of a truth that is bounded by these mountains and is falsehood to the world that lives beyond?
I am as one
Who doth attempt some lofty mountain's height,
And having gained what to the upcast eye
The summit's point appear'd, astonished sees
Its cloudy top, majestic and enlarged,
Towering aloft, as distant as before.
Now I am steel-set: I follow the call to the clear radiance and glow of the heights.
O, beautiful for spacious skies,
For amber waves of grain,
For purple mountain majesties,
Above the fruited plain ...
Indigo, the deep blue contains an abundance of sapphires shining their light through the density, awakening and stirring our consciousness. In the daylight the sea will change, but for now it remains mysterious, obtainable through our imagination.
For where's the State beneath the Firmament,
That doth excell the Bees for Government?