Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Unwept. 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 Unwept Quotes And Sayings by 94 Authors including Michael Faudet,Fleur Adcock,Antonio Lobo Antunes,Kevin Hearne,T. S. Eliot for you to enjoy and share.
A mind possessed
by unmade books,
unwritten lines
on empty hooks.
I write in praise of the solitary act: of not feeling a trespassing tongue forced into one's mouth, one's breath smothered, nipples crushed against the ribcage, and that metallic tingling in the chin set off by a certain odd nerve: unpleasure.
Agitated on the inside by disgust but with nothing showing in their immobile features, absolutely still, as unmoving as those of landscapes, of photographs, of summer sunsets, nothing showing in their ever-horizontal features, decomposing silently in the Formica chairs.
misbegotten cockwaffle.
Words strain, Crack and sometimes break, under the burden, Under the tension, slip, slide, perish, Decay with imprecision, will not stay in place, Will not stay still.
Dr. Wintermute beheld Mrs. Pinchbeck befeathered, beribboned, crinolined, corseted, frizzled, and festooned, though not wasted.
My overcoat is worn out; my shirts also are worn out. And I ask to be allowed to have a lamp in the evening; it is indeed wearisome sitting alone in the dark.
Blind and naked as an unearthed mole, uncomprehending.
For now, the tension was subtle, a vibration, like the inaudible cry of overstressed steel.
I am unattached; My heart is very quiet.
He couldn't read any more of Velvette's stories. This was too intimate. She spills her soul by stitching words so splendidly, even ragged threads are imperceptible.
There was nothing common about him, first impressions be damned. Behind those spectacles lurked something feral and untamable. He hadn't moved from his chair, and yet she felt a little tickle in her palms. A catch in her breath. His eyes were too sharp, his expression far too even.
furnished, but by no means decorated,
Becoming unshakeable through this storm.
How undisturbed, the sleep of the foolish.
Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant.
You Bedazzled my stake?
She did not dare let it behind her, all unseen. Unseemly. All unseamed.
Adorkable is a freeform, loose-knit, organic network of like-minded souls who might get pushed to the ground for the way we think and the way we look and because we're not afraid of who we are, but my God we're looking up at the stars.
So exquisitely slopped that he didn't know if he was on land or at sea.
Comfortable; made the courageous weak
Jaded. I never understood the term. Jade is pretty and worth something, yes? I was rusted if I was anything. Too long in the rain. Going out in an orange blaze of muted, anonymous, common-as-dirt oxidation.
Umbed by disappointment and betrayal, like a child who had been awakened suddenly from a summer dream about christmas morning.
Frightfully pale and perpetually odd
I am not sinuous or suave; I sit among you abrading your softness with my hardness, quenching the silver-grey flickering moth-wing quiver of words with the green spurt of my clear eyes.
Uncharged with invisible meaning, the visible is nothing, mere clay; and without visible circumstance, a territory, to connect to, our spirit is shapeless, nameless, and undefined.
Let the thick curtain fall;I better know than allHow little I have gained,How vast the unattained.
I undress to impress - Patch
A short story padded. A species of composition bearing the same relation to literature that the panorama bears to art. As it is too long to be read at a sitting the impressions made by its successive parts are successively effaced, as in the pa
The unformed is not worse than the over-formed. The former is nothing; the latter is mere appearance. Real form presupposes real life.
O jest unseen, inscrutable, invisible, As a nose on a man's face, or a weathercock on a steeple.
I live quite an unsettled life.
Aggle flabble kabble . . . snurp?
I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable.
Tongue-tied and twisted, just an earth-bound misfit, I.
Still to be neat, still to be drest,
As you were going to a feast,
Still to be powder'd, all perfum'd.
Lady, it is to be presumed,
Though art's hid causes are not found,
All is not sweet, all is not sound.
found three thousand Unsullied
Around the steel no tortur'd worm shall twine, No blood of living insect stain my line; Let me, less cruel, cast the feather'd hook, With pliant rod athwart the pebbled brook, Silent along the mazy margin stray, And with the fur-wrought fly delude the prey.
Thus unlamented pass the proud away,
The gaze of fools and pageant of a day;
So perish all, whose breast ne'er learn'd to glow
For others' good, or melt at others' woe.
There is no delight in owning anything unshared.
untrammelled flow
Una's face was an unbroken block of calculation, saving where, upon her upper lip, a little down of hair fluttered. Yet it gave one an uncanny feeling. It made one think of a tassel on a hammer.
Feelings are untidy ...
Thou knowest that my voice is sweet, That is if thou dost hear; And I am moulded in a form Somewhat below the mean.
Every seam, every lace, every bead has been painstakingly, with love, corrected, perfected and mastered,
My words are the garment of what I shall never be
Like the tucked sleeve of a one-armed boy.
One can grow accustomed to carrying unseeable scars, as if the tattoo one wears is inked in flesh tone over flesh tone; but nevertheless one is still covered in secret, painted with secret, stained by it.
Vulnerable, messed-up, inadequate
for you beautiful ones my thought
is not changeable
My cup of sweets is not unmingled: it is dashed with a bitterness that I cannot hide from myself, disguise it as I will.
Probably every new and eagerly expected garment ever put on since clothes came in, fell a trifle short of the wearer's expectation.
I feel naturally florid when I look up again. I look like a flourish. I look the way the word galore feels. I feel uncultivated beautiful, like pure, organic allure.
Uncontradicting solitude
Supports me on its giant palm;
And like a sea-anemone
Or simple snail, there cautiously
Unfolds, emerges, what I am.
You untangle a knot with slow teasing, not sharp pulling, and believe me we have here a knot such as I have never seen. But I will unpick it. I will.
The nakedness of the indignant world may be cloathed from the trimmings of the vain.
We are unfree, unhappy, and unsettled when we allow things outside of our control, like other people, circumstances, events, or even illnesses, determine our internal attitudes and emotions.
Unasked, Unsought, Love gives itself but is not bought
Tender Ember
... Barred and branded
to be forever unloved
I was a tender ember
seeking solace from above ...
Oh! it offends me to the soul to hear a robust periwig-pated fellow, tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings.
The uncreated is a vast, empty space. This emptiness is so scary that most hold on to what they know, making minor adjustments to what they understand, unable to move on to something unknown.
I felt frighteningly unbridled.
My soul is wrapped in harsh repose, Midnight descends in raven-colored clothes, But soft ... behold! A sunlight beam Butting a swath of glimmering gleam. My heart expands, 'tis grown a bulge in it, Inspired by your beauty ... Effulgent.
ANIENTED (A'NIENTED) adj.[anneantir, Fr.]Frustrated; brought to nothing.
the wrinkled sleeve of the head
A Cue from Nature
Run outside during a thunderstorm
That downpour, that conquered hesitation, that exhilaration
That's what unlonely is like
I am glimmerless.
Adorkable. It's in its own category.
Some to conceit alone their taste confine,
And glittering thoughts struck out at ev'ry line;
Pleas'd with a work where nothing's just or fit;
One glaring chaos and wild heap of wit.
Sits bits unhitch!
Blessed is the memory of those who have kept themselves unspotted from the world. Yet more blessed and more dear the memory of those who have kept themselves unspotted in the world.
Shined, combed, brushed and gorgeous
Voiceless it cries,
Wingless flutters,
Toothless bites,
Mouthless mutters.
My butterfly dress was visible on the washroom floor, bent and shredded wings and all. Cheeks hot, I remember what he'd suggested before someone shot him.
His eyes found the dress too. I was teasing about that. Unless you were looking forward to it. Then I meant every word.
He leaned in close. He saw his father's dirty hands. He spoke the last familiar words in a whisper.
Its' fixed.
Was anyone unclothed?" Mr. Kent said sarcastically, clearly not expecting an affirmative answer.
However.
"A bit," my uncooperative mouth responded and I tried to cover it with a yelp. This was absurd. Both of them were absurd, tonight was absurd, and I was, assuredly, absurd.
Upped but mentally disjointed.
In whatever I may be thought to have been unnatural, unwise and indelicate, it is now my most fervent desire it may have a suitable impression on you - and on me, a penitent for every wrong thought and step.
UNMARKED is both gorgeous and hideous. A frightening and disturbing tale spun with great beauty. Absolutely riveting.
this word needs to be reworded ==========
Surprised. Then everyone, by unspoken
A cloak of darkness she wove about them when Melkor and Ungoliant set forth: an Unlight,
He couldn't say the words, had spent too long in Silence, but he'd learned other ways to speak. Taking the paperweight she'd knocked off her desk out of his pocket, he put it in her hands. It's fixed. As long as you don't mind more than a few scars.
My page was too white
My ink was too thin
The day wouldn't write
What the night pencilled in
I was surprised just now at seeing a cobweb around a knocker; for it was not on the door of heaven.
An unSpiritual person is: A Human Current of Energy in an Ocean of Air
White
Godiva, I unpeel --
Dead hands, dead stringencies.
Blessed are the sat upon, spat upon, ratted on.
I unsettle all things.
Unthinkable clothing
Though weary, it is not tired: though pressed it is not straightened; though alarmed, it is not confounded; but as a living flame it forces itself upwards and securely passes through all.
Those flimsy webs that break as soon as wrought, attain not to the dignity of thought.
Bent
like the branches of a tree
broken
like the pieces of my heart
cracked
like the seventeenth moon
shattered
like the glass in the window
the day we met
I'm...
like a poet hidden
In the light of thought
Singing hymns unbidden,
Till the world is wrought
To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not.
By unnerving definition, anything that the heart has chosen for its own mysterious reasons it can always unchoose later - again, for its own mysterious reasons.
I lost one illusion last night. I thought I had no heart. I find I have, and a heart doesn't suit me, Windermere. Somehow it doesn't go with modern dress. It makes one look old. And it spoils one's career at critical moments.
Messy hair, uncombed, gel-free, un-styled and perfectly imperfect.
I handed him a beaker and toyed with the pleats of my skirt. The folds kept rippling against my knees in a distracting way. It was one of Naomi's additions to my wardrobe. I quickly decided that I hated it.
I have fallen,
for your words.
They are like,
a gossamer cobweb,
I have been,
embroiled,
decoyed,
snared into!
Incapacitated.
I fail to escape.
I fail to liberate.
Your words,
didn't redeem,
made me a,
captive instead.
Moved by an unconsious sentiment born out of solitude and savagery - idle tales of a noughty child who sometimes reflects and who is always a lover of the beautiful - the beauty that is personal - the only beauty that is human.
Things unused burden and beset.