Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Shroud. 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 Shroud Quotes And Sayings by 93 Authors including Jayne Anne Phillips,Jeaniene Frost,Sherrilyn Kenyon,Peter Schrijvers,William Shakespeare for you to enjoy and share.
Smoke veils the air like souls in drifting suspension, declining the war's insistence everyone move on.
Lucifer's hairy ball sack! You've become a morlock.
Thorn. Good demon overlord.
and dust, the armored spearhead
When that churl Death my bones with dust shall cover.
The soul is covered by a thousand veils.
The dirt of gossip blows into my face and the dust rumors cover me. But if the arrow is straight and the point is slick, it can pierce through dust no matter how thick.
No matter how deep and dark your pit, how dank your shroud, their heads are heroically unbloody and unbowed.
Dark, dark! The horror of darkness, like a shroud, wraps me and bears me on through mist and cloud.
Shraddha means self-confidence and self-confidence means faith in God.
Tell mea tale from the days when shadow cloaked the land, when the Dark Crystal and its missing shard had not yet been reunited.
Treacherous ashes hide
The fires through which you stride
Substance of the Shadow XI. Dusk XII. Darkness XIII. Fifty-two XIV. The Knitting Done XV. The
There, did you think to kill me? There's no flesh or blood within this cloak to kill. There's only an idea.
Ideas are bulletproof.
Farewell.
We are spirits clad in veils.
No matter who you are, the thought of so much suffering and degradation must cause you to shudder at the sight of a veil or cassock, those two shrouds of human invention.
Ronan Lynch, keeper of secrets, fighter of men, devil of a boy,
Despite those titles, power, and pelf,
The wretch, concentred all in self,
Living, shall forfeit fair renown,
And, doubly dying, shall go down
To the vile dust, from whence he sprung,
Unwept, unhonor'd, and unsung.
A mask you ask? Optional I find!
Masks lend appeal of a mysterious kind.
A wise God shrouds the future in obscure darkness.
The Seanchan fight the Shadow.
-message from Dragon Reborn to Egwene
A mist rises from a nearby mound. It could be me, that mist, or simply the caretaker's mower-dust. If the breeze blows just right, I'll ghost your solid, entwine your hair. Promise me you won't shampoo, but carry me along, tiny dust-particles of me.
From his angle, the curtain seems to form itself into a shrouded, wavering figure, indescribably terrifying in its very indistinctness. Something waiting, hovering on the threshold of the visible world. Some half-embodied fear gradually assuming a hideous outer form.
If the aegis of the Almighty cover thee, what sword can smite thee? Rest thou secure.
White is fearful to gaze upon for too long: it is the color of shrouds; it is all-color, the prism fused, undifferentiated, linked wave to wave and particle to particle.
Raveand Rhamnusia, Goddes of Dispyte,' said Lymond acidly. 'I am trying to get you home, vide the shiten shepherd and the clene shepe, with your woolly chops spotless. The only drawback to date is that the bloody sheep is going to have to carry the shepherd, so far as I can see.
The ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming.
The scythers, Time and Death,
Helmed locusts, move upon the tree of breath
There are times when the air that floats between mortals becomes, in its stillness and silence, as cruel as the edge of a scythe.
Surrender the vert platonic bond tying your soul to mine craft, the sky fades a pink shadow cast.
Jesus. Low-Key Lyesmith," said Shadow. and then he heard what he was saying and he understood. "Loki," he said. "Loki Lie-smith."
"You're slow," said Loki, "but you get there in the end." And his lips twisted into a scarred smile and the embers danced in the shadows of his eyes.
Royalty is a fine burial shroud.
Carry your sorrow inside you as the cloud conceals ruin and death like a deadly secret that is understood only when the storm breaks.
He will fence with his own shadow.
My cloak stinks like the dead thing it is. It hangs limp behind me. White stained with a Proctor's blood. I pull up the hood. We all do. We look like wolves. And we smell blood. The
When all thoughts
Are exhausted
I slip into the woods
And gather
A pile of shepherd's purse.
Like the little stream
Making its way
Through the mossy crevices
I, too, quietly
Turn clear and transparent.
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!
Your shadow stealthily leaves nothing of where you go, like a poisoned needle that sews together my footsteps. Your light pliantly strikes the water tower, like a lightning bolt that severs the source of my life. -Soifon
Fogged, bogged gates of Brume, barrier to my home; Timeless, faceless watchers loom, but I am allowed to roam.
Born weary of being born, he chose to be a shade; when, then, did he live, and by the transgression of what birth? And if, living, he wore his shroud, by what miracle did he manage to die?
I hide myself behind, a cloud of smoke; the smoke screen varies, dependent on the variable. The variable consists of: stress, anguish, boredom, madness, anger, depression, apathy, negativity, sex, violence & a little chunk of chaos.
Shadow! or Spirit!
Whatever thou art,
Which still doth inherit
The whole or a part
Of the form of thy birth,
Of the mould of thy clay,
Which returned to the earth,
Re-appear to the day!
Death in the Clouds
Twas twilight, and the sunless day went down Over the waste of waters; like a veil, Which, if withdrawn, would but disclose the frown Of one whose hate is mask'd but to assail.
Slander, whose whisper over the world's diameter, as level as the cannon to its blank, transports its poisoned shot.
It is a basilisk unto mine eye, Kills me to look on't.
Talisman, Talisman, show me your secrets,
Helmsman, Helmsman, turn me for home.
What see you in the horizon's bruised smear
That cannot be blotted out
By your raised hand?
Clouds of confusion
rolled into illusion
He veils perversion
forcing her coercion
Her body he takes
while she flies away
unbelievable, she's invisible
We are spirits clad in veils; Man by man was never seen; All our deep communing fails To remove the shadowy screen.
Nothing more powerfully excites any affection than to conceal some part of its object, by throwing it into a kind of shade, whichat the same time that it shows enough to prepossess us in favour of the object, leaves still some work for the imagination.
Masked, I advance.
What masks are these uniforms to hide cowards!
It is the dim haze of mystery that adds enchantment to pursuit.
Wings of PURIFICATION
Behold, my children!" she said. "The instrument of my revenge. I will call it a scythe!"
The Titans muttered among themselves: What is that for? Why is it curved? How do you spell scythe?
Conceal me what I am, and be my aid for such disguise as haply shall become the form of my intent.
You shall be known among us as Usul, the base of the pillar. This is your secret name, your troop name. We of Sietch
Spin the parasol three times and repeat after me: I shield in the name of fashion. I accessorize for one and all. Pursuit of truth is my passion. This I vow by the great parasol.
who
is invisible enough
to see you
Stone, steel, dominions pass,
Faith too, no wonder;
So leave alone the grass
That I am under.
Enter the cloud. Enveloped by heat. Vanquish the destroyer.
You want stealth? Be a rogue in 'World of Warcraft'.
Becoming unshakeable through this storm.
The Assassin the midst the deadly druid
Fury the shattering
A naked blade sheathed in velvet, that was Raphael's voice.
Fear not, nor be dismayed at the appearance that is darkness, at the disguise that is evil, at the empty cloak that is death, for you have picked these for your challenges. They are stones on which you choose to whet the keen edge of your spirit.
Hypocrites - they wear gorgeous cloaks lined with lead; pretty outside, awful inside; heavy cloaks force them to behave sedately, although seething within; cloak true character in false appearance.
Have you ever heard of Remnants? - Skulduggery
I am on the edge of mysteries and the veil is getting thinner and thinner.
chased by the shadows of clouds.
The leader of men in warfare can show himself to his followers only through a mask, a mask that he must make for himself, but a mask made in such form as will mark him to men of his time and place as the leader they want and need.
Death of destiny: dust
Death and his scythe do not come. No sweeping black capes or ethereal escapes. There's no pearly gate, no prisms of colors as his soul slips away. The stillness is cold steel. The silence is empty with no memory to mend it.
The word is the shadow of the deed.
The smylere with the knyf under the cloke.
Masks beneath masks until suddenly the bare bloodless skull.
That holy shape becomes a devil best.
Death sat in His garden, running a whetstone along the edge of His scythe. It was already so sharp that any passing breeze that blew across it was sliced smoothly into two puzzled zephyrs,
water needles
stitch up the split
shadow-he fights his way
deeper down, free.
A halo surrounded the grim reaper nun, Sister Maria. (By the way-I like this human idea of the grim reaper. I like the scythe. It amuses me.)
It wasn't the fog I minded, Cathleen. I really love fog. [ ... ] It hides you from the world and the world from you. You feel that everything has changed, and nothing is what it seemed to be. No one can find or touch you any more.
There is a darkened corridor, forgotten by the sun, shrouded in shadow and transgression.
I want to keep a mysterious side to me. I want to keep a mysterious side to me.
Those clouds are angels' robes.
All this talk and turmoil and noise and movement and desire is outside of the veil; within the veil is silence and calm and rest.
Secrecy of design, when combined with rapidity of execution, like me column that guided Israel in the deserts, becomes the guardian pillar of light and fire to our friends, a cloud of overwhelming and impenetrable darkness to our enemies.
Reaper of enemies; strong of grip; One kind with his fathers.
There she weaves by night and day, A magic web with colors gay. She has heard a whisper say, A curse is on her if she stay, To look down to Camelot. She knows not what the curse may be, And so she weaveth steadily, And little other care hath she, The Lady of Shalott.
My face heated with embarrassment. The crossbreed member of Keystone - formerly known as the Shadow, a merciless killer - is now on the hunt for linens. Viktor
I cannot find my way: there is no star
In all the shrouded heavens anywhere
When I die bury me in smoke
What is a Shadowhunter made of, if they desert their own, if they throw away a child's heart like rubbish left on the side of the road? Tell me, Simon Lewis, if that is what Shadowhunters are, why would I wish to be one?
The visible exhausts me. I am dissolved in shadow.
Take what the old-church
found in Mithra's tomb,
candle and script and bell,
take what the new-church spat upon
and broke and shattered.
If you think I wear the cloak of filth, then let me tell you baby, I wear it real good.
The sage wears coarse clothes, concealing jade.
The shadows: some hide, others reveal.
In our society, most of us wear protective masks of various kinds and for various reasons. Very often the end result is that the masks grow to us, displacing our original characters with our assumed characters.
I'm shadowboxing in a match the shadow is always going to win. (as a young man battling his deceased brother's heroic legacy)