173 Quotes About Fog
- Author Vera Nazarian
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Desire is like fog on a bathroom mirror -- its presence incites you to wipe the mirror, and see yourself clearly again.
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- Author Shannon L. Alder
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When the rush of the weak sweeps over those that strive to be strong, its destruction. The commonplaces of moral judgment become fogged with the lack of perception stained with the sting of longing. The voice of reason is lost in the envious echoes of hearts torn by battle. The song of our children echo the misfortune of their parent's haze---we all started out small and had dreams to become something more than what we were.
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- Author Steven Magee
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Western governments have lost their way in the fog of greed.
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- Author Steven Magee
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An altered state of mind cleared the fog of educated greed.
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- Author Steven Magee
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High altitude professional astronomy is lost in the fog of intellectual greed.
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- Author Donna Goddard
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THE MISTThey fell asleep and dreamed a fog.They had words but not meaning.And with the mist, there came a fear.The mist grew thicker.A whispered voice from the Great Beyond.Love will heal the people.It washed away the scent of shame.No one said, “It should not be so.”There was silence.What is it? A strange feeling.Foreign at first but now familiar.We do not have to hide.The crystal light extends out.Pulsing with aliveness.The memory of pain passes.What were we so afraid of?
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- Author Beverly Engel
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As you recover, you will feel more conscious of your surroundings. Freed from the ‘fog’ of your pain, fear, and confusion, you will awaken and see the world revealed as never before. You will begin to observe things, especially yourself. You will be aware of what you do and why you do it. You will begin to observe your own behavior and attitudes.
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- Author Mehmet Murat ildan
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Fog is not mysterious, fog is the mystery itself!
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- Author Michael Dibdin
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He liked the fog, the world quietened down and closed in. Glossy turned to matt, every stridency was muted, substance leached out of the brute matter all around. Things became notions, the brash present a vague memory. By some parallel process of slippage, his innumerable childhood memories of foggy days morphed into other memories. The fog of illness, real or feigned, of fevers and flu and febrility.
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