Quotes About Foga
1. One day many years ago a man walked along and stood in the sound of the ocean on a cold sunless shore and said, “We need a voice to call across the water, to warn ships; I’ll make one. I’ll make a voice like all of time and all of the fog that ever was; I’ll make a voice that is like an empty bed beside you all night long, and like an empty house when you open the door, and like trees in autumn with no leaves. A sound like the birds flying south, crying, and a sound like November wind and the sea on the hard, cold shore. I’ll make a sound that’s so alone that no one can miss it, that whoever hears it will weep in their souls, and hearths will seem warmer, and being inside will seem better to all who hear it in the distant towns. I’ll make me a sound and an apparatus and they’ll call it a Fog Horn and whoever hears it will know the sadness of eternity and the briefness of life.”
The Fog Horn blew.
2. Under the thinning fog the surf curled and creamed, almost without sound, like a thought trying to form inself on the edge of consciousness.
3. Moonlight disappears down the hills
mountains vanish into fog
and i vanish into poetry.
4. Children of her type contrive the purest philosophies. Ada had worked out her own little system. Hardly a week had elapsed since Van’s arrival when he was found worthy of being initiated in her web of wisdom. An individual’s life consisted of certain classified things: “real things” which were unfrequent and priceless, simply “things” which formed the routine stuff of life; and “ghost things,” also called “fogs,” such as fever, toothache, dreadful disappointments, and death. Three or more things occurring at the same time formed a “tower,” or, if they came in immediate succession, they made a “bridge.” “Real towers” and “real bridges” were the joys of life, and when the towers came in a series, one experienced supreme rapture; it almost never happened, though. In some circumstances, in a certain light, a neutral “thing” might look or even actually become “real” or else, conversely, it might coagulate into a fetid “fog.” When the joy and the joyless happened to be intermixed, simultaneously or along the ramp of duration, one was confronted with “ruined towers” and “broken bridges.
5. A thin grey fog hung over the city, and the streets were very cold; for summer was in England.
6. At night the fog was thick and full of light, and sometimes voices.
7. Desire is like fog on a bathroom mirror — its presence incites you to wipe the mirror, and see yourself clearly again.
8. I returned to the courtyard and saw that the sun had grown weaker. Beautiful and clear as it had been, the morning (as the day approached the completion of its first half) was becoming damp and misty. Heavy clouds moved from the north and were invading the top of the mountain, covering it with a light brume. It seemed to be fog, and perhaps fog was also rising from the ground, but at that altitude it was difficult to distinguish the mists that rose from below and those that come down from above. It was becoming hard to discern the bulk of the more distant buildings.
9. In the morning I woke like a sloth in the fog.
10. Caught in the doldrums of August we may have regretted the departing summer, having sighed over the vanished strawberries and all that they signified. Now, however, we look forward almost eagerly to winter’s approach. We forget the fogs, the slush, the sore throats an the price of coal, we think only of long evenings by lamplight, of the books which we are really going to read this time, of the bright shop windows and the keen edge of the early frosts.
11. The night was white-blind with fog, and Kate staggered over every stone and stumbled in every puddle, but she pushed on as fast as she could.
12. If you want to see what the fog hides in itself, don’t wait for the fog to disperse! Instead of waiting for something to happen in this short life, do something immediately! Enter the fog!
13. It was a foggy day in London, and the fog was heavy and dark. Animate London, with smarting eyes and irritated lungs, was blinking, wheezing, and choking; inanimate London was a sooty spectre, divided in purpose between being visible and invisible, and so being wholly neither.
14. That particular April day was strange and foggy, blurring spaces between the trees and blanketing all of Ellingham in a milky mist. Dottie decided that the weather lent itself to a mystery. Sherlock Holmes would be perfect.
15. The mind wanders in the fog of environmental illness.
16. Western governments have lost their way in the fog of greed.
17. When a foggy mind enters the fog, it doesn’t understand that it enters the fog!
18. Out of the fog of mental illness came enlightenment.
19. An altered state of mind cleared the fog of educated greed.
20. High altitude professional astronomy is lost in the fog of intellectual greed.
21. The fog is a magician who performs the art of erasing things without actually erasing them!
22. Be true to yourself, only you know your own real truth…so follow your heart down your path through the fog, muting all the noise, and walk out into the meaningful light of the silent truth
23. The fog tore apart, light charged the sea like blue neon.
24. Sometimes you enter a dense fog on the road you are traveling! What should you do? Very simple! Take a break from the journey, wait calmly, the fog will be dispersed!
25. Beauty can be found, in a fog of uncertainty.
26. Spirit dancing, I envisioned a place inside this energetic city, ours: a classic townhouse on a steep street with expansive views of the Pacific, the magenta siding sun-faded—a third-story perch, thick platinum haze embracing our new home.
27. In the small hours of a cold February dawn, Justin and I walked to the Pacific, high cliffs eroding over the ocean, crashed and crashed by lapping salty waves. Their spray misted us in day’s young purple air, exhilarating. Walking the Golden Gate Bridge, our world receding, pale gold sunrise lit thin fog, morning coloring us like a faded fairy tale.
28. Fog can cover anything, anything except itself!
29. We crossed the famed Golden Gate Bridge, which you may know best from the opening credits of Full House, and also every bit of visual media that wanted to make clear that it takes place in San Francisco. The dense fog shrouding it cleared once we reached the other side. “Thickly fogged,” not California, may be the bridge’s native state.
30. Nobody complains about all the fog. I know why, now: as bad as it is, you can slip back in it and feel safe. That’s what McMurphy can’t understand, us wanting to be safe. He keeps trying to drag us out of the fog, out in the open where we’d be easy to get at.
31. You can walk in a dream while you are awake: Just walk in the misty morning of a forest!
32. I thought of the cool, fresh air of the city I’d always dreamed of living in. The art museums and trolleys and the mysterious fog that blanketed it. I could almost smell the cappuccinos I’d planned to drink in bohemian cafes or hear the indie music in the bookstores I would spend my free time in. I pictured the friends I’d make, my kindred art people, and the dorm room I was supposed to move into.
33. Sometimes you can’t see the road ahead but as you keep going, it gets clearer. Stay the course as the fog of life dissipates.
34. 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.
35. When fog and walk come together, you get the opportunity to meet the nothingness! And such a meeting immediately increases your desire to meet the existence! Darkness makes you love the light and nothingness, the existence!
36. Foggier yet, and colder! Piercing, searching, biting cold.
37. When fog invades the plains, everything disappears; everything but fog! When love invades the minds, everything disappears; everything but love!
38. Local fog in Venice has a name: nebbia. It obliterates all reflections … and everything that has a shape: buildings, people, colonnades, bridges, statues. Boat services are canceled, airplanes neither arrive, nor take off for weeks, stores are closed and mail ceases to litter one’s threshold. The effect is as though some raw hand had turned all those enfilades inside out and wrapped the lining around the city… the fog is thick, blinding, and immobile… this is a time for reading, for burning electricity all day long, for going easy on self-deprecating thoughts of coffee, for listening to the BBC World Service, for going to bed early. In short, a time for self-oblivion, induced by a city that has ceased to be seen. Unwittingly, you take your cue from it, especially if, like it, you’ve got company. Having failed to be born here, you at least can take some pride in sharing its invisibility.
39. The fog eventually clears itself.
40. Beneath the foggy sky the glowing sea is hazy, the soft light of a scarf over a lamp.
41. June and July are foggy months. In the early summer on Nantucket, warm moist air flows over the colder water. The moist air cools to its dew point and a cloud forms at the water’s surface. This is fog.
42. It’s like… that big red hand of McMurphy’s is reaching into the fog and dropping down and dragging the men up by their hands, dragging them blinking into the open. First one, then another, then the next. Right on down the line of Acutes, dragging them out of the fog till there they stand, all twenty of them, raising not just for watching TV, but against the Big Nurse, against her trying to send McMurphy to Disturbed, against the way she’s talked and acted and beat them down for years.
43. A sharp breeze cut through the fog, stirring the veil, slicing through wool and cutting to the bone.
44. To find truth, one must traverse a dense fog
45. The fog is a chest, a magical chest! What wonders are hidden in it, the only way to see them is to dive into the fog!
46. To find truth, one must travel a dense fog!
47. Do not criticize those who leave the Sun and run towards the fogs! May be they just need to disappear to get rid of the burdens of life!
48. Fog is not mysterious, fog is the mystery itself!
49. There’s long spells — three days, years — when you can’t see a thing, know where you are only by the speaker sounding overhead like a bell buoy clanging in the fog. When I can see, the guys are usually moving around as unconcerned as though they didn’t notice so much as a mist in the air. I believe the fog affects their memory some way it doesn’t affect mine.
50. While they rested, he searched for landmarks. The mountains they’d walked into were gone, a hazy gray ceiling of storm clouds in their place. It gave him the unsettling feeling of being caught inside a box. Ash turned and looked back the other direction. His attention caught on the forked top of a pine tree and he frowned. What the hell…? That looks like the same tree we passed fifteen minutes ago. It felt for a moment like he was in a poorly designed game and had just come across a repeating landscape. His gaze dropped down to the path where they’d just passed. His stomach churned uneasily. The trail was a faded smudge, the line of it almost too faint to follow in the gathering darkness, but there was a small outcrop of rocks in the trees that also looked familiar.
His attention jumped back to the pronged top of the branches. “What the…
51. An oily fog had mystified the streets, sheathing the façades to either side, estranging familiar landmarks and coating the windows with a skein of liquid seemingly denser than water.
52. In order to erase his personal history the warrior must create around himself a fog in which nothing about him seems tangible. Only tangible people have personal history.
53. It was not fog, as you thought. It was smog.
54. When life is foggy, path is unclear and mind is dull, remember your breath. It has the power to give you the peace. It has the power to resolve the unsolved equations of life.
55. I have woken up…quite sloshed
from night-mingled rains
a little drugged, by mountain fogs
I have been kidnapped
for years….by a mere kiss.
56. Hidden by diaphanous clouds of mist and fog floating gracefully over vales of heather and flowing runnels, she began to dance.
57. I admire the fog, how it fades into itself.
58. I could be the ceaseless mist that fogs your colourless eyes when you’re lost in your universes.
59. To the short-sighted, through the fog, God must be a monster.
60. To feel free, create a fog around yourself! And how can you do this? Be silent! When you are silent, people will not notice you much! You will be invisible, you will be inside the fog!