Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Vaguely. 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 Vaguely Quotes And Sayings by 95 Authors including Rainer Maria Rilke,Natalie Lloyd,Lemony Snicket,Becca Fitzpatrick,Patti Smith for you to enjoy and share.
Don't petals of soft words float upon your blood?
That's a wonderful word: maybe. I watched maybe stretch out, long and starry. The letter y looked as fiery as the tail of a comet; it looped around our shoulders, connecting us all together.
You must be all a-tingle with excitement.'
'I guess so,' I said, but I did not feel a-tingle. I did not feel a-anything.
I shook my head. "I don't think so. This isn't a good idea. This isn't right."
"There's all kinds of right," he murmured. "On the spectrum, we're still in the safe zone." ...
"Definitely right. Usually right," Patch continued. "Mostly right. Maybe right.
I have vague memories, like impressions on glass plates ...
Maybe." Possibly. Probably.
Moreover, something is or seems That touches me with mystic gleams, Like glimpses of forgotten dreams - "Of something felt, like something here; Of something done, I know not where; Such as no language may declare."[228]
If I take refuge in ambiguity, I assure you that it's quite conscious.
Sometimes everybody touches in the dark. You touch to see what you can stand to touch, what you can to feel with your fingers probing parts you never though you could probably probe - Gray
discombobulated around
Have a chocolate-covered raisin," he said.
"They look like rat droppings," said the Chair.
The Dean peered at them in the gloom.
"So that's it," he said. "The bag fell on the floor a minute ago, and I thought there seemed rather a lot.
The conversation limped along this line of thought much like a zombie: lifeless and mindless and making a jelly of whatever healthy brains were within its reach.
Hmm," he said, his tone non-committal.
Memories drifting and piling up quietly, like letters on the doormat of an empty house.
Hey, er ... " said Zaphod, "what's your name?"
The man looked at them doubtfully.
"I don't know. Why, do you think I should have one? It seems very odd to
give a bundle of vague sensory perceptions a name.
(Are you okay?) Tobias asked.
I raised my hand to look at it. Fingers. Five of them.
"I don't know? Am I okay?
And I feel faintly ordinary, faintly inconspicuous, faintly unsuspicious. And it's good, so good.
I felt confused, to some degree, by everything - but in a delayed manner, in that I seemed to be repeatedly realizing that I felt confused, instead of feeling directly confused
Interpretative thoughts settle on a bare sensory perception like a swarm of blue-bottles on an open wound.
NO!" Raffe grips me as if he can bind my soul to my body. An upside-down view of the doorway shows up in my field of vision. Smoke waft through it.
Although the pain obscures Raffe's warmth, I feel the presure of his hug, the rocking of our bodies back and forth as he repeats the word, "No.
Nothing but a speck we seem In the waste of waters round, Floating, floating like a dream, Outward bound.
For I inhabit the spaces in between, where auras mix and hearts reach out and knowing hovers, and where sticks against each human the little burrs of others, long-ago brushed against but never forgot.
I say vague things because that's as close as I can get to stopping myself from saying anything, my mind addled by the feeling of her body through her shirt.
Brief is this existence, as a visit in a strange house. The path to be pursued is poorly lit by a flickering consciousness.
Sometimes he thinks the walls are throbbing, as if the water-stained concrete has developed a tic, and then he allows himself to close his eyelids which are as heavy as iron shields, so that he can tell himself who he is.
So are you conscious?" The alien robot - the skin the Miller construct was using - shrugged. It was strange how well the gesture translated. "Don't know. Seems like I'm acing my Turing test, though.
But the mind had its own ideas, and Kihn's opinion of what I was already thinking of as my "sighting" rattled endlessly, through my head in a tight, lopsided orbit. Semiotic ghosts.
There was the faintest of sounds, as of a gnat yawning.
Usually it is uses of words, not words in themselves, that are properly called vague.
No, what's a man like down there?"
"Oh." Sidheag wrinkled her nose. "Unimpressive. They have - "she gestured towards her own nether regions with one hand - "a sort of dangly sausage - lacks tailoring."
"Really?"
"Yes, like it wasn't fitted into its casing properly. And hairy.
Yeah. His name's Tad." I almost add, I haven't see his abs yet, but I bet I want to lick 'em..
SHE FELT a hard pinch on her neck. "Hey!" she protested. Her eyelids flew open. The light was unbearably bright, just as painful, but everything was gauzy and indistinct, like there was a white scrim over everything. She wondered whether she'd fallen back asleep for several hours.
A grey wrinkled vastness, like the residue of a dream
My mind wanders a lot, but fortunately it's too weak to go very far.
wondering whether
Whatever belonging to the region of thought and feeling is uttered in words, is of necessity uttered imperfectly. For thought and feeling are infinite, and human speech, although far-reaching in scope, and marvelous in delicacy, can embody them after all but approximately and suggestively.
Under the thinning fog the surf curled and creamed, almost without sound, like a thought trying to form inself on the edge of consciousness.
That's what it feels like when you touch me. Like millions of tiny universes being born and then dying in the space between your finger and my skin. Sometimes I forget.
I think. I sense. I wonder.
Thoughts were zipping around my head like fireflies in a jar, bumping into each other, blinking on and off.
What I remember are tentacles. Tentacles and teeth.
I float through states of consciousness in the search for my gravity.
Dost thou
Not feel them slip,
How cold! how cold! the moon's
Thin wavering finger-tips, along
Thy throat?
His fear was whetted to such a fine edge that he could actually feel it now: a disembodied ball of baby fingers inside his stomach, tickling him from the inside. That's what mortal terror felt like, he realized. Tiny fingers tickling you from the inside.
In a moment of sheer terror, I realized I couldn't feel my brain. It was there just a minute ago. Maybe I really was dead. Do I look dead to you?
A wandering corpse, a bundle of mindless functions,
The Milky Way swooped diagonally across the heavens, reminding me of my utter insignificance, and at the same time my complete interconnection with everything. I was just a tiny speck of consciousness, and yet I was consciousness itself.
But what little I can get down into my pen of what is so vivid to my eyes, and not only to my eyes; also to some nervous fibre, or fanlike membrane in my species.
Preston, I don't think this creature could ever find its way into your head. Quite apart from anything else, it seems pretty crowded and complicated to me.
Through the lack of attaching myself to words, my thoughts remain nebulous most of the time. They sketch vague, pleasant shapes and then are swallowed up; I forget them almost immediately.
You see something you like?
He turned to face her, his body tingling. She gave a little shudder.
"Did you feel that too?" she asked.
"Yes," he said softly, "but don't talk."
She pushed him away. "It was our sensor webs, you fool. Something's triggered them.
They were completely vague. They expressed everything and nothing. 'It is the Aeolian harp of style,' thought Julien. 'Amid the most lofty thoughts about annihilation, death, the infinite, etc., I can see no reality save a shocking fear of ridicule.
Sometime I think; and sometime I am.-- Paul Valery
Ponder the affirmative.
The other was small, roundish, and moved with an ungainly restlessness, like a number of elderly squirrels trying to escape from a sack. His own age was on the older side of completely indeterminate. If
I don't know what I saw. It could've been a hallucination. You get those from sniffing glue."
"You've never sniffed glue!"
"I've smelled glue," Jamie said after a pause. "In art class.
strange, spiky pieces of
Without language, thought is a vague, uncharted nebula.
A scattered dream that's like a far-off memory ... a far-off memory that's like a scattered dream ... i want to line the pieces up ... yours and mine.
As surely as you are a living man, so surely did that spectral anatomy visit my room again last night, grin in my face, and walk away with my trousers: nor was I able to spring from my bed, or break the chain which seemed to bind me to my pillow.
At other times I wake up from the half sleep I'd fallen into, and hazy images with poetical and unpredictable colours play out their silent show to my inattention.
Ever since [that day], a small uncertainty had buzzed between us.It was a sense of chemistry that had been a little elusive, a little imprecise, until now.
For now, the tension was subtle, a vibration, like the inaudible cry of overstressed steel.
I forget. I don't see. I don't think.
I have a feeling only for shadows
You've been here before?" Derek asked, his gaze firmly fixed on Rowena's ass shifting under the shimmering green silk a few steps above us. "Wiggles," I told him. He blinked, then realized I wasn't referring to Rowena's backside.
I raised an alluring eyebrow. Alluringly.
Only the rustle of those colours waving in the air, impenetrable, lighter than nothingness
I am like a gray thing, he thought. Bustling along with the currents of air that tumble me, that roll me, like a gray puffball, on and on.
Twere to consider too curiously, to consider so.
I am not quite sober you know. In fact, I am drunk, but I cannot help feeling this is all a trifle, shall we say, irregular?
I didn't know where this stuff was coming from - all of a sudden I was a little magickal sprite, bonding with my stone, feeling my earth roots, la la la ...
All I can is describe the way it felt. And that was how it felt. So sue me.
Was I swaying? I felt like I might be swaying.
You know, I just had a thought," he drawled.
"Is that a new occurence for you? Is your brain tingling?"
Cash and Jen
He stretched out his arms towards the dark water in a curious way, and,far as I was from him I could have sworn he was trembling involuntarily I glanced seaward - and distinguishing nothing except a single green light, minute and faraway, that might have been the end of a dock.
There's a fine line between a stream of consciousness and a babbling brook to nowhere.
Are ... you okay?" Mark asked, hoping his friend was just tired. "I'm not," the Toad answered, his face quivering as if he were about to cry. "I'm not, Mark. I'm not okay at all. There are things living inside my skull.
My foggy brain slid away and
And I was still dressed in only my bra and panties.
Well, at least it's a nice set of bra and panties.
Yep, these were the thoughts going through my brain as I looked at a photo of a decapitated head on my bed.
Sometimes 'Hmm' is the wisest thing to say.
Have you lost your mind?"
"No. It got scared and ran away.
in mushy, wet oatmeal. "Are
Her lips touched his brain as they touched his lips, as though they were a vehicle of some vague speech and between them he felt an unknown and timid preasure, darker than the swoon of sin, softer than sound or odor.
Then you will simply have to see for yourself. Touch me, lass. Feel my ... sock." His silver gaze sizzled with challenge, as he unzipped his zipper.
Uh-uh." She shook her head for added emphasis.
Then find me a pair of trews that doona threaten to sever my manparts.
It was a strange feeling, like touching a void.
I just got a car, and I gotta say, this car is very cryptic. The very first day I drove it, a light came on out of nowhere: 'Check engine.' Could they be any more vague? What if a light came on and said, 'Problem'?
I think I must be bleeding. I think, if I'm thinking, I must be alive. I think, my arms must be here somewhere, I can feel them under the concrete. I think, what am I holding, what am I lying on top of?
It made a sound," Carl says. "Can you describe it?" "Ever put a harmonica in a blender?" "No." "Then no, I can't describe it," he says.
The answer almost unmanned me.
The Eater of Socks,' moaned the Senior Wrangler, with his eyes shut. 'How many tentacles would you expect it to have?' said the Lecturer in Recent Runes. 'I mean, roughly speaking?
A purring noise woke him. Something furry was curled on his chest. Jarby opened one eye slowly. Something black, white, buff, and lemon-smelling. He glared at her and groaned. Stupid wytzl. Buffi chirruped and fluttered away to Poke.
I'm a bit weird.
A man touched me: his hand ... my thigh. I touched him too: my fist ... his jaw.
I can give you a definite perhaps.
I put a hand between my legs. Yup, everything was still there; then I goosed Peter.
He laughed. "Hey, now ... "
"I was just checking to make sure all the important parts were still attached."
"Jeez, D ...
Do I frighten you?' He tilted his head.
'Yes,' I said weakly. 'Are you proud of yourself?'
He looked at me for a long moment before replying. 'No, I'm not,' he said so faintly I had to strain to hear him.
I had a feeling once. I wonder what happened to it.
We must be brief.-- Victor Hugo
Disordered clumps, wrongly beautiful, like a scan of a damaged brain
Ghost implies a whole lot of things that I am NOT. Do I look like Casper to you?"
"Fine," said Nick. "We're not ghosts, we're Undefined Spectral Doohickies. USDs. Are you happy now?
I feel that my fingers have brushed one of life's deep, coursing threads ... Speak, even notice it, and it would disappear.