Best 541 quotes in «deep quotes» category

Never ask questions you don't want the answer to.

Never expect someone to care for you or to care for your feelings and emotions, Everyone's fucking heartless, people just don't give a damn about your stupid feelings or your boring stories. People only know how to fool you around for their own benefits...

No matter how deep the night is, there will always be a daylight. MAWUKO

No one gave us life, we're the products of an explosion.

No one has ever properly understood me, I have never fully understood anyone; and no one understands anyone else

Not a few millions of parents strongly hope that their own children will step in by instantly becoming their own parents’ foster parents, if and when the parents reach their second childhood.

Nothing on earth hurts my soul deeper than her.

Now you're dead, and I'm buried.

Once I heard Dantly tell Welton that the Native Americans used to call that particular part of the morning “between the wolf and the dog” because the sky is so deep blue and spooky or whatever that you can’t tell what’s what. Is that a wolf on that hill or a dog? A man or a monkey? A saint or the devil?

Once the roots of love have grown deep and firm, the flowers will keep on blooming!

Once we know where we are, then the world becomes as narrow as a map. When we don't know, the world feels unlimited.

Once you reach deeper and deeper into your reality, you approach closer and closer its surreal essence.

One day, I’ll feel the depth of hugs once again, and it’s going to feel like HOME.

One look into your beautiful eyes, and my self-loathing soul felt envy. I had become vulnerable that instant...helpless, wanting, hating, resenting, loathing...” -Nina Jean Slack, Once Lost, Forever Found (Vol. #1)

One truism lay underneath every choice and word: change what people think and you change the world.

One day, it will all make sense, it will all be revealed. Until then, we learn to live and accept our shadows, our Déjà vu's, our dreams, our intuition that takes us to places that our minds never conceived, our bodies only perceived and our souls gladly remembered. Conversations and experiences amuse me, for I am experimenting with my feelings in ways that I can only do down here. Language makes up for a very interesting, yet bizarre way of putting thoughts into spoken form for the sound to move on in other peoples' ears, but every language, every sound, every word carries with it a long history, a deep culture and the souls of the many people who have previously used it throughout the centuries. Our hearts give us direction, hope and the passion to keep moving forward.. But what we do when they're frozen, broken, torn apart by an unhealthy way of living is what gives us new strength to push forward or kills us completely. Deep inside, we feed the entities that empower the fight between our internal demons and angels. We feed them with our thoughts, our emotions, our self-talk and the external talk that we lower our shields to at times. Whether good or bad, this brings about a change internally and at times there isn't much we can do to protect ourselves. At times, we need to let things be and go along with it. Of course, we're all worried, stressed, confused and lacking direction at times and we're in the same way at peace, stable and walking in the right direction once we get things sorted. Give it some time, give it some light, give it some love. You're not very far away.

Patience is learning to take a deep breath while you’re exhaling

Patriotism is the narcissism of countries.

Peeta. Blut wie Regentropfen am Fenster. Wie feuchte Erde an den Stiefeln.

People are, generally speaking, either dead certain or totally indifferent (Both types are crawling around deep down in the rabbit's fur!)

Perfectionists talk about first love. Realists talk about true love. Optimists talk just about love.

Positive words left unsaid are like sachets of currency notes burnt in vain. Positive deeds left undone are like deep wells filled with soil to the brim. Do the undone, say the unsaid and turn the unturned.

Pride is born as a mountaintop on a valley, but dies as an abyss in which it is too deep and too dark to see the better.

Prot: I'm not tired. Brewer: I am. Prot: Perhaps you're getting too much sleep. All your beings seem to sleep a lot. Is that because it's so awful to be awake?

Purpose Erases Deep Hurts

Quitting’s not hard. Deciding to quit is hard. Once you make that mental leap, the rest is easy.” “Really? Was that how you quit me?” And just like that, without thinking, without saying it in my head first, without arguing with myself for days, it’s out there. “So,” she says, as if speaking to an audience under the bridge. “He finally says it.

Remember; if you ever need a helping hand , you will find one at the end of each of your arms.

Remember this: we all swim in the river of hope and risk, unless someone breaks the dam, and chaos reigns.” Excerpt From: Joison, Peter. “Ellring.” iBooks. This material may be protected by copyright.

Scatter as a prayer escaping my lips... as orchids blooming in clouds.

Sayonara is meant for deep reflections.

She had the blood of the sun running through her veins and the dust of stars at her fingertips. Her every breath birthed new cosmos and her thoughts were the super moon of the darkest night. Every word was a supernova and every step an inescapable singularity. Her touch though...it was soft.

She had a voice that made Pearl Harbor seem like a lullaby.

She lit my soul and inhaled deeply Flicking my ashes occasionally.

She was the half-whispers born from half-thoughts, the half-breaths of dying half-hearts.

She was small. Her shadow moved in the dance of chaos before her as the inferno blazed behind her and licked the sky with its many tongues. She clutched an indistinguishable toy with both arms tightly. Her face was serene. Her eyes shone with courage more immense than the surrounding flames. She was small, but at that moment, I've never seen a bigger person.

She was the sort of girl who flooded my five senses. Her voice was melody to my ears, her taste gave birth to an eternal thirst, her scent sprouted goosebumps along the length of my body, her touch riveted with electricity that would've been static with any other... all these things considered, it was impossible for me not to stare. I began to see her everywhere, in everything.

She: Why are you so HARD? He: I am a Man! I can't help it! She: Where will this take us? He: On a journey where we will discover something DEEP and EXCITING!

Some eyes are as deep as the sea! And you only feel like drowning in them.

Some ideas are an expedition.

Some of the people who hate me love some of the sentences that I have written, until they get to the name of the person to whom the sentences are attributed.

Sometimes souls don't need words to communicate. They understand each other through signs, symbols, poetry, and deep feelings!

Sometimes the things that make you cry are more beautiful than the things that make you laugh.

Sometimes, you just meet someone who reminds you of why people get up every day, despite the weight of the world pushing against them. When you come across someone who has the strength to keep going, based on something as small as hope. Even though they have nothing good in their lives. You want to be better for them. Sometimes, you meet someone who just makes you want to be a better you. So that maybe one day, you deserve to have their light in your life.

Souls do not require human language to communicate. They speak with each other through signs, symbols, deep feelings, and poetry!

Spare parts lay scattered, every turn wrought with twisted dread, all over the ground, the rooftops, and they were still. Some moving, twitching, enough to almost see. Half cracked and shattered, but still visible and eerie, smiles spread wide and thin, teeth decayed and not, paralleled by hollowed, some missing or in other places, eyes of shades green and blue and some brown with red, but no white, just color portrayed, even if it may be dampened in every way. The beauty in the frivolity, the polished shining gears and cracked glass illuminated so brightly, create a portrait of terror and wonder, significance of a different sort, that only human eyes can see and human minds can feel, but all this is something only dreams, the ethereal concepts that fuse and mince chaos and order into a more paradoxical state, can create and fathom and fashion and make. And yet, doubts upon anxious contradictions, my fingers can feel the brokenness of what can be witnessed, an abyss within a void where deeper within the still lies a glow, a half pulse of a flutter, a vein of mimicry of the reverse of all I see, with concave eyes lost in the magnitude of image whole. Massive and monumental, my feet dragged behind me, cuts in the dirt and spiraling tracks. And then I awoke, half my world disappeared. So much empty within the whole, holes of sizes big and small and all between, the loss of, what it was to be called, my dream. And then my life ended, the holes and tears and cracks complete, empty eyes can still see so clearly, the nothingness that everything has become, shadow and matte a combination of dark on black, in the nothingness that all has become, it is all complete in a way opposite of what I know, a world different in every way and stretch I see, vision upon view of different and strange, only when empty eyes, longing for purpose dreading its meaning, gaze upon their own reflection will the last piece fall into place, a round puzzle of pieces triangular and square, the completeness in the nothingness can be seen, mind flooded with wonder, envisioning the antonym of a dream, and what, in this new beginning, this all could mean. With a blink it all changes, incomplete images appear, holes are wide and seen because you are back now, between death and dream, interwoven as an integral part of this necessary in between seam, and when you touch, worry creases the brow, their faces, half real and the other untouchable, your hand passes through their skin, penetration of the most intimate sort, holding their hearts as if for sport. The warmth, the beating, the crimson piercing blood, so beautiful, the engine that we run, pumping and pumping only to cause the most dreaded flood. Now I drown, and I see you drown too. Together, we are, for split seconds few, we are torn apart and disappear in this vast blood red hue.

Stop the bleeding! Gauze the wound!" And his voice became much softer, "Those are the words... I've yet to write." He died with that exhale. He died in a steaming carmine pool of unwritten stories that incredibly cold night. He always thought his work would take the form of ink, pen and paper, but as the last glow dimmed in his eyes, he realized his most meaningful words were sloppily spilled and patched together using blood, bullet holes and concrete.

Stretch your mind to expand your soul.

Such is the nature of people: they regret that what was, although it wasn't even nice, because they are afraid of what will be – the unknown.

Sunrises and sunsets were breathtaking moments in his life. Moments of exhilaration and ecstasy. Deeply moving moments when he would dream. Dreams that splashed myriad colors on his mind's gray canvas!

Superficial cannot discover the deep, because both live in different levels and likewise the deep cannot meet the deepest! Change your level to reach at different levels!