290 Quotes About Imagery

His waking cry was a mad battle cry from an ancient warrior before he leaps from his horse into combat with swords and arrows flying. He yelled as loud as an adult who'd just had his legs broken.

Friday night, under the dim atrium lights, we sit on wrought iron chairs, drinking beer in the cool antiseptic air. Near the fake flagstones snaking through the fake trees, ferns, and the bubbling, chlorine-infused, somnolent brook. Anytown USA. A fake park superimposed on the Washington swamp. Outside, oversized windows overlook the city, streaked with: rain, humidity, and tears.

Mina let Valerie envelop her in silk and perfume. The smell was so pungent Mina could see it: a sunset of whipped egg-white clouds, a field of foxgloves, pink on pink on pink on pink.

Christine had gone into the city archives, found them in an old City of Edmonton telephone book. Her family was in a book. Her family and herself were defined by a street, an avenue, and a phone number. This line of type will rearrange itself into a story of ghosts in that place. A story of her ghost. Christine thought of herself as a child, with no idea of the world but all the ideas of the world. Maybe this was her dream self. She wasn't sure anymore.

She whistled and pushed her hands together. Vines and tendrils of plants sprouted from the walls, responding to her call. She whistled again and the vines caught onto the glass dome—as she pulled her hands apart, the vines mimicked her actions and moved the glass aside. A torrent of fresh sea air flooded the space as a blanket of mist sank down over the lip of the ceiling window, making the room immediately feel damp.

The happy bubble we've incased ourselves in shimmers, then bursts altogether, and the air that comes rushing in is thick with tension.

like god's stray eyelashesthe stars are falling—more light! more!god has no time to make a wishall he can do is cry out faster! faster!

The sun slides down the sky, dragging the heat with it. Timid breezes poke their heads up from the depths of Bangalore's dying lakes, pawing at the air and puffing at the sparse remains of clouds. Dulling the edges of the unforgiving day.

Their jaws unhinged and they vomited out an oily black substance, which fell to the floor like a river of snakes.