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Quote by John Banville

“What a little vessel of sadness we are, sailing in this muffled silence through the autumn dark.”

Work

A book bearing this title would generally engage with the depths, moods, and mysteries of maritime environments. Such works often use the sea as a powerful metaphorical landscape, representing change, isolation, the unknown, or the passage of time. Readers might expect exploration of coastal communities, maritime journeys, or the psychological dimensions of human engagement with vast waters. The title suggests an atmospheric and contemplative approach to subject matter connected to oceanic settings. more

Author

John Banville

John Banville, born on December 8, 1945, is an Irish novelist known for his unique narrative style and profound philosophical insights. His works have won numerous literary awards. more

“For a moment, she thought she was crying too. But then she realised she was just humming. Finally, she could hear the farm. A snippet of a song played in her head. One of the songs she always heard blasting over the farm’s loudspeakers. A song about summer days under the sun. She could really hear it. She could feel the warm, sultry air on her skin, and she wasn’t cold anymore. The air was always yellow at the farm. Golden yellow.”

Sadness Memory Yellow

Book:Poison Orchids

Source: Poison Orchids

“The Abandoned Did you ever wonder Why abandoned houses looked so sad Much like the people Their exterior was only for the function We would not feel so sad If we recognized That the spirit of the house Had already moved on The dream remained”

Life Lessons House Dreams Sadness Sad Empty Abandoned Dreams Quotes

Book:The Dreaming Doors: Through the Soul Gateways

Source: The Dreaming Doors: Through the Soul Gateways

“You have got very sad eyes" she told me. And I just smiled.”

Sadness Sad Life Quotes And Sayings Love Quotes And Sayings Philosophy Of Life Eyes Writers Life Poets Life Sadness Loneliness

Author:Avijeet Das

“CROWS CALLING AT NIGHT Yellow clouds beside the walls; crows roosting near. Flying back, they caw, caw; calling in the boughs. In the loom she weaves brocade, the Qin river girl. Made of emerald yarn like mist, the window hides her words. She stops the shuttle, sorrowful, and thinks of the distant man. She stays alone in the lonely room, her tears just like the rain.”