Best 541 quotes in «deep quotes» category

...4-5-6: when time escapes the day in its most beautiful way. She starves for that beauty, she longs to quench her limitless thirst, but those moments are so fleeting and their limit is her unrest. Her bones are hollow and heavy as she takes a single step, and in that instant she is gone, blinded by the flash of a stray ray of light, her eyes close in that moment and stars flood her night. She falls forward slow, counting the half seconds of her descent. Her eyes stay closed, her thoughts are spent.

A deep connection is a level where you are operating at your highest sensual frequency.

A ‘biomass’ man is not deeply analyzing things to draw a meaningful conclusions

A brand precedes, parallels, and leaves a path behind. What your brand will say, is saying, and has said matters more the deeper we go into the globalized, digitized, connection economy.

Adventures kept hidden, words kept silent. You became my greatest secret. And when you left, no one knew the source of the pain I felt. No one knew you existed, except my writhing heart.

Advantages never comes free. You have to create it the way you want it!

A moment of silence is actually a very loud moment.

A journey is a person in itself; no two are alike. An all plans, safeguards, policies and coercion are fruitless. We find after years of struggle that we do not take a trip; a trip takes us.

All my past heartache and pain suddenly made sense. That was who I would not be to the person who deserves the best of me.

Am I shallow? she asks the mirror. Yes, I am shallow. The sun shines on the ripples where it's shallow. Deep is too dark.

And all this aching memories of you are floating through my burning veins; letting my scars glow in a dark blue reflecting the colour of your weary eyes.

And in my novels I live many lives. Substitutes of spontaneity to replace a dreary reality. How I live for those inky black words and kaleidoscope colored experiences.

And I've been counting and recounting all the finite experiences that it never seemed to matter at all: riding on a subway, getting sand in my shoes at the beach, being woken up by the sound of a neighbor's barking dog. Because do you ever look at your life and say, hey, how many more times will I ever pack a suitcase for a trip, or write my name with a mechanical pencil, or use a tape measure? Every experience we have, everything is finite. That’s what it is to be human - because everything we do, or don't do but think about doing, is strained through our awareness of limits. Maybe there was some comfort, some beauty, in being a cog where the infinite was feasible.

A maid’s yard, house, wardrobe, fridge, etc. sometimes also serve as her master’s dustbin or dumpsite.

And once the ripples still and the water returns to its unwavering calm, even the pebble that broke its surface will be forgotten. And the world will go on.

And that’s how we live: wandering endlessly, concentrically outward, seeking in others a kindling spark of the love which has long lain, dormant, dark, unstoked in our own deepest souls.

And stay, my dear stay... forever, as my quiet song, in my lilac dawn.

And, you know, whenever you check yourself into rehab, they don't focus on, you know, the fact that you're an alcoholic. They go much deeper, you know? I mean, they go way deep. They crack you open and then spill you out and examine all the things that are on the table.

And though they fell as ashes, their shadows drifted as leaves.

And they danced with laughter and tears. They swung each other round and round, the first and last time in years.

And when it's quiet, you can hear your thoughts. You try to escape, but you don't realize, that you are trapped, trapped within your thoughts.

And the wind gonna rise up, baby and blow my blues away...

An intricate string made up of infinite knots and curls. Taking a step back, it really did seem so fragile. As if the smallest breeze of opportunity would cause it to snap. It held strong though, fastened to me and you as a line of steel.

An outline, my body, no mass or feeling, A dark reflection spread from floor to ceiling, The faceless copycat stalks me day after day, A personal eclipse of the sun never going astray, Each movement mine in a world of its own, Whispering shades unseen of a different home, A skewed yet comparable story occurs every day, Removed, though not far, less than halfway, The whiter the glow the blacker the stain, An ethereal cachet remaining midst the acidic rain, A trust and intimacy of a curious nature, I follow, it follows, we follow a stranger.

Anyone who claims good or evil isn't one or either, they're just a liar... the worst kind of liar... the liar that doesn't even know they're lying. We're human. We're good during the day and evil at night, half the time those roles are reversed, that's what it's all about.

A rain like melting pillows… a rain so beautiful I could never have let go of if not certain that someday...it would find its way into my poem.

A premature death does not only rob one of the countless instances where one would have experienced pleasure, it also saves one from the innumerable instances where one would have experienced pain.

Are we all just satellites?

As an unavoidable result of the inevitable loss of some physical and/or some mental abilities, many a man who has been alive for many years has become a boy again.

Așa cum fâlfâitul aripilor unei păsări poate declanșa un uragan sau cum căderea necontrolată a unui fulg poate porni o avalanșă, ar părea că niciun detaliu nu este până la urmă lipsit de semnificație..

A small world where people know each other, and still so deep, able to get lost.

A seemingly simple task like taking a bath or wearing a condom feels like multitasking to someone who suffers from hemiplegia or has only one hand.

As I watched the sky morph shades of amber and amethyst, of fiery orange and smoldering pink, I always wondered if colors and images like these once inspired the greats before us to construct their beauty and masterpieces.

As the childhood leaves a deep mark in a person’s life, there is a strong influence of childhood in choosing the favourite writer. Say, if someone’s childhood passes amid the village, nature, river etc., then Rabindranath Tagore’s name should appear on top as one of the favourites!

As the sun sets, something in me rises! Do you think it could be my soul? I feel it's a big probability!

A strong woman will automatically stop trying if she feels unwanted. She won't fix it or beg, she'll just walk away.

As we all know, as if forever exploiting or attempting to exploit each other were not enough, a group of sane human beings who have just reached the end of a war against a common enemy of theirs will sooner or later start or continue killing and/or fighting against each other.

A truly compassionate man gives a poor woman a portion of his meal before he eats, not after he has eaten.

A universe that can wink into existence can wink out again.

A woman of European heritage sporting a preacher's collar had the opposite effect of a Muslim woman wearing a hijab. She used her privilege and the favored religion to look like a golden child.

Beauty gives a person power. And camouflage.

Beauty is Soul Deep - Beautiful Girl by Kailin Gow

Being bored is the price we pay for not being insane.

Being constantly in touch with your own sensuality develops you into a more intuitive person who knows how to minister to the hidden needs of the one(s) you love.

Being deeply, passionately, and intensely in love is being deeply, passionately, and intensely in life.

Being rich or famous is the only profound thing that some people have ever said.

Be your own solace

Boredom is probably more frequent and more tormenting if you do not have sight or hands.

Both of us were always in a fight, He won over my friends, I won in life. He always wanted to marry this girl, I ended up calling her my wife.

Building up a dream is like building a room; the foundation must be deep, strong, firm and dependable.