I see a lot of fog and a few lights. I like it when life's hidden. It gives you a chance to imagine nice things, nicer than they a...re.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
The Lord killeth, and maketh alive; he bringeth down to the grave, and bringeth up.... The Lord maketh poor, and maketh rich: he bringeth low, and lifteth up. Heraiseth up the poor out of the dust, and lifteth up the beggar from the dunghill, to set them among princes, and to make them inherit the throne of glory: for the pillars of the earth are the Lord's and he hath set the world upon them. He will keep the feet of his saints, and the wicked shall be silent in darkness; for by strength shall no man prevail. The adversaries of the Lord shall be broken to pieces; out of heaven shall he thunder upon them: the Lord shall judge the ends of the earth; and he shall give strength unto his king, and exalt the horn of his anointed.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
"The only one who has ever been really mysterious." (Joan Crawford); "Her mystery was as thick as a London fog." (Tallulah Bankhea...d); "In a quick turn of her head, in a frank look, a boyish pout, in that proud glance from lowered lids, so pitying and yet so distant that in others it would be supercilious, in all those expressions of conscious beauty, which when imitated become clumsy, or arrogant, or ridiculous, there is a manifestation of what Hollywood cannot destroy. In the presence of this mystery all that is second-rate can be forgotten." (Cecil Beaton)LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
According to fiction, the hillman is a seven-foot combination of malnutrition and hookworm, asleep on his front porch with the dog...s. His great bare feet, dangling off the porch, flap from time to time when the flies get too pesky, but nothing awakens him except a hound's salute to a stranger. Then he shoots up his astounding neck to its full length, ogles the visitor, and on his hunting horn blows a series of long and short blasts that means, "Hide yore stills and oil yore guns; they air a stranger h'yar."LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Even as fog continues to lie in the valleys, so does ancient sin cling to the low places, the depressions in the world consciousne...ss.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Fear death?--to feel the fog in my throat, The mist in my face,... When the snows begin, and the blasts denote I am nearing the place, The power of the night, the press of the storm, The post of the foe; Where he stands, the Arch Fear in a visible form, Yet the strong man must go:LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Now Air is hush'd, save where the weak-ey'd Bat, With short shrill Shriek flits by on leathern Wing,... Or where the Beetle winds His small but sullen Horn,LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »