Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Gestalt. 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 Gestalt Quotes And Sayings by 91 Authors including Jeremy Scahill,John Green,Marcus Luttrell,Robert Henryson,Zane Grey for you to enjoy and share.
The Looming Tower.
Weltschmerz: its the depression you feel when the world as it is does not line up with the world as you think it should be.
The Warrior Elite,
The nuttes schell, thocht it be hard and teuch,Haldis the kirnill, and is delectabill.Sa lyis thair ane doctrine wyse aneuch,And full of fruit, under ane fenyeit Fabill.
Aboot the gold Syvertsen stole
AGHAST (AGHA'ST) adj.[either the participle of agaze,(see AGAZE) and then to be written agazed, or agast,or from a and gast, a ghost, which the present orthography favours; perhaps they were originally different words.]Struck with horrour, as
Who knows a man's name, holds that man's life in his keeping. Thus to Ged, who had lost faith in himself, Vetch had given him that gift that only a friend can give, the proof of unshaken, unshakeable trust.
The Gatlings at Santiago.
pilaster, probably meant to anchor a
The Gesundheit Institute is a pie in the face of greed - by taking the most expensive thing in America, health care, and giving it away for free.
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Weltschmerz, basically, is the depression we feel when bamboozlers, fanatics, manipulators, trolls, bigots, demagogues, fear-mongers, liars and prigs threaten to take over the world, and there's nothing, we think, we can do about it.
Red. Red, the colour of the Regency, scrawled over with the iconography of the border forts, growing, fluttering. These were the banners of Ravenel. Not only the banners, but men and riders, flowing over the hilltop like wine from an over-full cup, staining and darkening its slopes, and spreading.
Genghises. Large, angry Genghises.
I have learned and dismantled all the words in order to draw from them a
single word: Home.
Regalverborgenheiten" word found in Gabriele Wohmann's short story "Die Feindin" meaning the comforting seclusion of being surrounded by book cases.
Quos vilt perdere dementat' Whome the gods wish to destroy, they first drive made (Latin).
Behold Akar Kessell, the Tyrant of Icewind Dale!" he cried. "People of Ten-Towns, your master has come!" "Your words are a bit premature - " Cassius began, but Kessell cut him short with a frenzied scream. "Never interrupt me!" the wizard shouted,
Excelsior! You will never again pray, never again repose in limitless trust - you deny it to yourself to remain halted before an ultimate wisdom, ultimate good, ultimate power, and there unharness your thoughts
The Sibyl, with frenzied mouth uttering things not to be laughed at, unadorned and unperfumed, yet reaches to a thousand years with her voice by aid of the god.
Beerbohm was a genius of the purest kind. He stands at the summit of his art.
Neverwinter Wood.
The stones here speak to me, and I know their mute language. Also, they seem deeply to feel what I think. So a broken column of the old Roman times, an old tower of Lombardy, a weather-beaten Gothic piece of a pillar understands me well. But I am a ruin myself, wandering among ruins.
Speramus meliora; resurgret cineribus. We hope for better things; it will rise from the ashes,
The horn that wakes the sleepers! The shield that guard the realms of men!
Grand Thoughts that never can be wearied out,
Showing the unreality of Time.
Ex Scientia, Tridens
(From knowledge, seapower)
THE LUCIAN BANE BOOM TEAM:
The murex Dr. Geffard keeps on his desk can entertain her for a half hour, the hollow spines, the ridged whorls, the deep entrance; it's a forest of spikes and caves and textures; it's a kingdom. Her
The saint maintains his piety through the graphic imagination of other people's vices. We thank him for it. The saint's impossible perfection allows us to go on being gargoyles while keeping our faith alive. We admire him for it. The saint's silence covers far more than our interpretations of it.
Brastias. My friend." Uh-oh, this couldn't be good. "Do you lie to me?"
"Uh ... no."
"See? That's a lie!
Mistress of the grisly and the glutinous
misbegotten cockwaffle.
Grundy HATE Nazis! Grundy hate EVERYONE!
Between cowardice and despair, valour is gendred.
When the steede is stolne, shut the stable durre.
GILDEROY LOCKHART T
The gods my protectors.
[Lat., Di me tuentur.]
Fogged, bogged gates of Brume, barrier to my home; Timeless, faceless watchers loom, but I am allowed to roam.
Ven mazel kumt, shtelt im a shtul. When mazel comes, pull up a chair for it. (p. 292)
Mishmar. Your father's hellish prison he cobbled together from the remains of office buildings from Omaha, which he destroyed. The Mishmar that's stuffed to the brink with mutated vampires. That Mishmar." "Yes." "You
The proud, the cold untroubled heart of stone, that never mused on sorrow but its own.
Dark accurate plunger down the successive knell
Of arch on arch, where ogives burst a red
Reverberance of hail upon the dead
Thunder like an exploding crucible!
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Gray, the colour of forgetting.
Genesee beer. The great outdoors in a glass.
Death: the grand perhaps.
garden. I have been defeated,
How much beer is in German intelligence?
being speared on the end of an umbrella by a bearded giant,
Palace of Crystal
Ah, there should be a young man, ein schone Junge carrying Blumen, a bouquet of roses. There should be cold Rhine wine and Strausswaltzes, and on the long way home kisses in the shadow of an archway, like a Cinderella.
You are your own forerunner, and the towers you have builded are but the foundation of your giant-self. And that self too shall be a foundation.
Sassicaia from Tuscany,
Christ, don't you ever knock?
It's Lassiter. L-A-S-S-I-T-E-R. How is it possible you're still getting me confused with someone else? Do I need a nametag?
Pilar-remember-nothing is so boring as devotion.
Rhine. The river that, somewhere out there, has broken free.
prestidigitator,
A gun is not a weapon," Einar once said to Sig. "It's and answer...
the cloak of Sorrow: O
The fallyng out of faithfull frends is the renuyng of loue.
A fortress against ideas and against the
Shuddering insidious shock of the theory-vendors
The little sardine men crammed in a monster toy
Who tilt their aggregate beast against our crumbling Troy.
Only the dead are truly smart, truly cool. Nothing touches them. While I live, however, I side with bumbling suffering crooked life, with anger rather than boredom, with sweet lust, hunger & carelessness ... against the icy avant-guard & its fashionable premonitions of the sepulcher.
Avenge, O Lord, thy slaughtered saints, whose bones Lie scattered on the Alpine mountains cold; Ev'n them who kept thy truth so pure of old When all our fathers worshipped stocks and stones Forget not.
Belgian stranger - all
Gut?"
"General Unified Theory." Kohler quipped. "The theory of everything.
Bundesbahnangestelltenwitwe (a widow of a federal railway employee),
Spake full well, in language quaint and olden, One who dwelleth by the castled Rhine, When he called the flowers, so blue and golden, Stars, that in earth's firmament do shine.
A dream ... I was trying to explain to St. Peter, and was doing it in the German tongue, because I didn't want to be too explicit.
grandiose paranoid schizophrenia.
between Scylla and Charybdis,
We guard the edge of the world," Dawnstripe told him. "The other Clans sit cozy in their marshes and woods, fed by the river and sheltered by our moor. They never know the true taste of the wind or the scent of first snow. There's no Clan cat faster or more nimble than a WindClan cat.
Pactum serva" - "Keep the faith
The German is the discipline of fear; ours is the discipline of faith - and faith will triumph.
Stone, steel, dominions pass,
Faith too, no wonder;
So leave alone the grass
That I am under.
So many will try to destroy me. So many, over and over, coming in periods of greatness. But in this period, I cannot be broken: GAGAKLEIN.
What is this word that broke through the fence of your teeth, Atreides?
People who walk across dark bridges, past saints,
with dim, small lights.
Clouds which move across gray skies
past churches
with towers darkened in the dusk.
One who leans against granite railing
gazing into the evening waters,
His hands resting on old stones.
Long-time inhabitant of steeples, accustomed to contemplating, from his perch on a rainspout, the expanse of roofs, he knew that the souls of cities are more substantial and more lasting than those of all their inhabitants put together.
the only true saviours are german
Valar Dohaeris. All men must serve.
The gretteste clerkes been noght wisest men.
seeking comfort through continuity, as grand voices somehow hold off the permanent darkness that gathers though it does not fall.
Secret thinker sometimes listening aloud.
The venal herd.
[Lat., Venale pecus.]
On a trip to Germany, Lange and his entourage were climbing the tower of an ancient castle when they stopped to catch their breath. "How old is this ruin?" someone asked a guide. "Forty-two years," said Lange.
This is Rilke. I wish I had written it for you.
Soulless. Banished. But never forgotten.
My shield, my salvation.
Breath, dreams, silence, invincible calm, you triumph.
thoughts about them living alone in German-occupied Shedlitz
Where are my blades, Threadwitch?" He stubbornly still spoke in Dalmotti.
So Iseult stubbornly answered in Nomatsi: "Hidden.
The gay motes that people the sunbeams.
shadow of authority
So far no one had had enough courage and intelligence to reveal me to my dear Germans. My problems are new, my psychological horizon frighteningly comprehensive, my language bold and clear; there may well be no books written in German which are richer in ideas and more independent than mine.
Now, having left cities behind me, turned
Away forever from the strange, gregarious
Huddling of men by stones, I find those various
Great towns I knew fused into one, burned
Together in the fire of my despising ...
The Blessed Damozel essence of every dream and fairy story and legend and fear ...
grudge who grudge
The gods bestowed on Max [Beerbohm] the gift of perpetual old age.
Discombobulated.