Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Folie. 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 Folie Quotes And Sayings by 96 Authors including Herbert Mason,Kiersten White,Melina Marchetta,Frances Mayes,Peter Newman for you to enjoy and share.
He imagined the gazelles raising the dry dust
Like soft brush floating on the crests of sand.
Streams of melting snow.
Froi didn't know where home was anymore. He wanted to return to Lumatere, and he wanted to stay in Charyn. What strangeness was that? To belong in two kingdoms. He felt a sob rise within him that he swallowed hard the moment he felt Lirah and Gargarin at his shoulders.
Sometimes the valley below is like a bowl filled up with fog. I can see hard green figs on two trees and pears on a tree just below me. A fine crop coming in. May summer last a hundred years.
From the corners of her mouth, thick yellow goo bubbles. It matches the mess between Vesper's fingers, the slime on her chin, on her legs, the blobs that randomly pepper things, the blast radius massive, confounding
Chicken fizz! O Lord, protect all of us who toil in the vineyards of experimental chemistry!
The jellies living nearest the surface had transparent bodies, but their edges twinkled and flashed, as though traced by fiber-optic cables, blinking and undulating like neon signs. They were delicate; if you weren't looking
Fair fresh leaves, and buds - and buds - tiny at first but swelling and working Magic until they burst and uncurled into cups of scent delicately spilling themselves over their brims and filling the garden air.
Seeds blow in the wind and what is earf but a deadness with life growing out of it?
The filth under the white snow, the sunne discovers.
After a winter's gestation in its eggshell of ice, the valley had beaked its way out into the open, moist and yellow.
Darkening sea full of stirred silt and clouds of minute
An exquisite dulcet epithalame of most mollificative suadency for juveniles amatory whom the odoriferous flambeaus of the paranymphs have escorted to the quadrupedal proscenium of connubial communion.
Off in strata of porous rock by the leathery half-plant, half-animal little makers - and
What is this?"
"Plankton, basically," Henry says. "A plant. A bio luminescent plankton called dinoflagellates."
Oh, Henry. He's so romantic.
morsels of tesselated pavement from Herculaneum and Pompeii, like petrified minced veal;
The liquid inside was pitching and rolling, like there was a storm inside the tiny capsule.
Figs that drip with honey, sugar blown into curls and flowers.
A squalid phantasmagoria of breath
Letitia! What a name. Halfway between a salad and a sneeze.
Flakes. I was exhausted, shattered, in bewilderment. But behind the bewilderment the truth was
An inflated balloon
impressive to look at but hollow at the core and easily punctured.
beetle-spirited vaporing
Whatever it is, it's better in the wind.
stored inside of them, in frigid clouds of nitrogen, are cell lines representing nearly a thousand species.
A refrigerator runs by converting the dust behind it into a peculiar mutant, reptilian substance.
And that we call enos ermarf."
"What?" I didn't see what he was pointing at.
"That. The way the lake curves forward into t grass, framed by derrishoul trees."
"You have a word for something like that?" I asked.
-Animorphs #4, The Visitor page 63
The flakes stuck in my eyelashes. They fell on my sleeves. Huge. Flowers and stars. They fell onto each other, held their shapes, became small piles of perfect asterisks and blooms tumbled together in their discrete geometries like children's blocks.
Aioli epitomizes the heat, the power, and the joy of the Provencal sun, but it has another virtue
it drives away flies.
Nothing but a speck we seem In the waste of waters round, Floating, floating like a dream, Outward bound.
Heliotrope. To be sowed in the spring. A delicious flower, but I suspect it must be planted in boxes and kept in the house in the winter. The smell rewards the care.
Why settle for smoke when you can have FYER
A lot of snow out of one cloud, and it grows thicker.
Running in the wind, in the pollen and dust, a flower in flight
bowls of cornflakes,
Anon out of the earth a fabric huge Rose, like an exhalation.
I'm a tundra with wind endlessly blowing a hollow tunnel through me.
Flowers, leaves, fruit, are the air-woven children of light.
Just as a snowflake
went on to feed a puddle that filled a stream and then the river, the
pumpkin patch is a gathering of molecules from my old goats, chickens,
and cats, feeding the underworld of dirt creatures. And somewhere, my
father's ashes mingle with birds, air, and sea.
Shape is a good part of the fig's delight.
Something Fane fully
At Jaffa in Syria and among the Nomads in Arabia , are lakes of enormous size that yield very large masses of asphalt, which are carried off by the inhabitants thereabouts.
Michael, you shall have some syrup of figs.
The detritus of animal and plant life that had died miles above. It fell steadily through each zone of the ocean, down and down, shredding into flakes, leached of pigment until it became bone white. A snow of death.
He screamed. Mmm?' inquired the gentleman. I ... I would never presume to interrupt you, sir. But the ground appears to be swallowing me up.' It is a bog,' said the gentleman, helpfully. It is certainly a most terrifying substance.
Laminated Lettuce ... perfect for holiday gift giving.
I can hear, underground, that sucking and sobbing, In my veins, in my bones I feel it,- The small water seeping upward, The tight grains parting at last. When sprouts break out, Slippery as fish, I quail, lean to beginnings, sheath-wet.
Snowflakes were dancing outside Neva's window when she awakened Sunday morning. She watched them land on the glass, one second resembling minute delicate doilies and the next teardrops as they inside warmth reach through the glass and melted them.
Life is mostly froth and bubble
Icecloud, and Hazeltail. Leafpool twitched
An olive, with a pit ...
Apelles used to paint a good housewife on a snail, to import that she home-keeping.
I must confess I am a fop in my heart; ill customs influence my very senses, and I have been so used to affectation that without the help of the air of the court what is natural cannot touch me.
A heart of fire in a shell of ice.
O'er folded blooms On swirls of musk, The beetle booms adown the glooms And bumps along the dusk.
Thou art moist and soft clay; thou must instantly be shaped by the glowing wheel.
[Lat., Udum et molle lutum es: nunc, nunc properandus et acri
Fingendus sine fine rota.]
A caldera, it's called - a sort of mountain in reverse. A mountain that's had its very heart removed.
Froi saw the foolishness of dreamers, and he decided he'd like to die so foolish. With a dream in his heart about the possibilities, rather than a chain of hopelessness.
corn maque choux. He
I revere the memory of Mr. F. as an estimable man and most indulgent husband, only necessary to mention Asparagus and it appeared or to hint at any little delicate thing to drink and it came like magic in a pint bottle; it was not ecstasy but it was comfort.
I jammed my hand in my jacket pocket, bracing myself fo the next hit, and fel something. Something grainy and samll, sticking to the tips of my fingers: the sand from Commons Park.
Oh Cass, I thought. I miss you so, so much.
Water is the key to life, but in frozen form, it is a latent force. And when it vanishes, Earth becomes Mars.
A few feathery flakes are scattered widely through the air, and hover downward with uncertain flight, now almost alighting on the earth, now whirled again aloft into remote regions of the atmosphere.
To occasional heat waves - ice in the Martian soil occasionally melts and flows as a liquid.
The igneo-aerial food. In other words, despite
When glaciers break up due to rising world temperatures, its called calving. I'm calving
A cloud-congested caul that is alternately red, orange, vermilion, purple. Sometimes the clouds break apart in great, slow rafts, letting through beams of innocent yellow sunlight that are bitterly nostalgic for the summer that has gone by.
Through the sharp air a flaky torrent flies, Mocks the slow sight, and hides the gloomy skies; The fleecy clouds their chilly bosoms bare, And shed their substance on the floating air.
Looks like a sand pile my kids have been playing in for a long time - it's all beat up - no definition - just a lot of bumps and holes.
a nose of a delicate Hebrew model, but with a breadth of nostril unusual in similar formations; a
Liquid nitrogen," said Olaf. "Try not to shoot them." "Really cold?" "Really explosive.
If the world was an etch-a-sketch, glaciers are the big shake.
What branch does not have its leaves and which twig will not have its flowers?
O you virtuous owle,
The wise Minerva's only fowle.
the coast, irregular
No imaginary judgments of form, The clouds Butterfat
Here and there are worms, evidence of the fertility of the soil, caught by the sun, half dead; flexible and pink, like lips.
It snowed right before Jack stopped talking to Hazel, fluffy white flakes big enough to show their crystal architecture, like perfect geometric poems.
In the range of inorganic nature. I doubt if any object can be found more perfectly beautiful than a fresh, deep snowdrift, seen under warm light.
Water purling between the rocks, weed under the surface like green hair in the wind.
If I were to look in you ferigerator ... refridgefreetorator ... fridge ... what would I find?
Soulcial Shit. [Fertilizer]
you climbed under the skin I'm trying to escape.
Life forms illogical patterns. It is haphazard and full of beauties which I try to catch as they fly by, for who knows whether any of them will ever return?
Watching the ice-floes dance together on the black water.
the fog was fog and yet was not fog. it was liquid and solid, then gas, then a roiling putrescence expanding like a balloon blown with filth.
There ought to be a word for the Winter form of a tree.
Mars red gladiolus
I was at the part of self-exploration where you have to be surrounded with miscellanea in all of its diversity in order to figure things out.
hefted the pickaxe and attacked the three-inch-thick layer of gray-white ice. Frozen chips and droplets of water speckled his face as he swung the chopping tool. He pushed and scooted the bigger chunks to the edge of the trough with the pickaxe, then gritted his
A field of water betrays the spirit that is in the air. It is continually receiving new life and motion from above. It is intermediate in its nature between land and sky.
Sometimes a high moon, liquid-brilliant, scudded across a hollow space and took cover under electric, brown-iridescent cloud-edges.
If the braine sowes not corne, it plants thistles.
Glass flowers exploding. Slow trail of colors down the sky like stains dispersing in the sea, candescent polyps extinguished in the depths.
What ideal, immutable Platonic cloud could equal the beauty and perfection of any ordinary everyday cloud floating over, say, Tuba City, Arizona, on a hot day in June?
The autumn breeze rises on the shore at Fukiage- and those white chrysanthemums are they flowers? or not? or only breakers on the beach?
Ankh-Morpork, the melting pot of the world, which occasionally runs foul of lumps that don't melt.
The snow light flared on brightness. Blue: intense as a midsummer sky, obtained from grinding precious lapis lazuli carried by camel caravan all the way from the mountains of Afghanistan.
The ignorant pronounce it Frood
To cavil or applaud
The well-informed pronounce it Froyd
But I pronounce it Fraud.
The earth's lungs, coated in green ooze and thaw, breathed out blossom-scent and sour rot and fungus-must, wet and warm and aware, where before the air had been cold and blind, remote as the moon.
Whatever is flexible and living will tend to grow; whatever is rigid and blocked will wither and die.