China Mieville Quotes

Man is a sun and his senses are the planets.

Look to the Heavens, you can look to the skies. You can find redemption staring back into your eyes.

The nearest I'd come to feeling anything like God was the plan blue cloudless sky and a certain silence, but how do you pray to that?

A sky full of silent suns.

Just as the setting sun turned the clouds to liquid gold.

The red sun was pasted in the sky like a wafer.

...the sun would leave my sky if I couldn't assume you'd simply come and tell me you were sad.

Poets... are literal-minded men who will squeeze a word till it hurts.

In our language rhyme is a barrel. A barrel of dynamite. The line is a fuse. The line smoulders to the end and explodes; and the town is blown sky-high in a stanza.

The same sun that hardens the clay softens the wax.

With a clear sky, a bright sun, and a gentle breeze, you will have friends in plenty; but let fortune frown, and the firmament be overcast, and then your friends will prove like the strings of the lute, of which you will tighten ten before you find one that will bear the stretch and keep the pitch.

If the sky falls they shall have clouds for supper.

My soul is in the sky.

ordered me a sky from a florist

Good and bad, happy and sad, all thoughts vanish into emptiness like the imprint of a bird in the sky.

Your eyes are like two jewels in the sky.

Without you, there'd be no sun in my sky, there would be no love in my life, there'd be no world left of me.

I have scarcely touched the sky and I am made of it.

An instinctive taste teaches men to build their churches with spire steeples which point as with a silent finger to the sky and stars.

Your way begins at the other side. Become the sky.

Joshua made the sun stand still in the sky, but I can't keep these thoughts of You from passing by.

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings; Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth of sun-split clouds, - and done a hundred things You have not dreamed of - wheeled and soared and swung High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there, I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung My eager craft through footless halls of air.

Imagination is a tree. It has the integrative virtues of a tree. It is root and boughs. It lives between earth and sky. It lives in the earth and the wind. The imagined tree imperceptibly becomes a cosmological tree, the tree which epitomises a universe, which makes a universe.

This vast and solid earth, that blazing sun, Those skies, thro' which it rolls, must all have end. What then is man? The smallest part of nothing.

time is a tree (this life one leaf) but love is the sky and i am for you just so long and long enough