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Allegory Quotes

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Allegory Quotes

“Ô, the wine of a woman from heaven is sent, more perfect than all that a man can invent.”

LoveLifeInspirationalChildrenSoulWisdomBodyInspirationRunningBeautifulHappinessDesirePoetryMotivationTimeSufferingGirlPassionLiteratureSexWomenGoalImaginationWorkFreedomPowerCourageAliveDreamsFeminismStrengthInspireSweetInspirational LifeLife PhilosophyActivityTravelAmbitionLivingSurvivalHumanDiscoveryRomanticFemaleEmpowermentExperienceBraverySacredWineWordsMemoryPassionatePainfulGoalsSeparationSurrenderSelf DiscoveryWanderSensualityKissSensualWomanGentleGirlsFeminineExplorationDaringFirst LoveLovingTravelerWomanhoodSeductionFemininityExileCompassGirl PowerTravel QuotesTravellerFemale EmpowermentHeartsDirectionSurviveYoung LoveFeminismoSeductiveWomen S LiberationDriveWomen S InspirationalFemale CharactersWomen S StrengthWanderlustWildnessSufferAllegoryWanderingTravellingWanderersWandererSecretiveFemmePrettyFemalesWoman S StrengthRoamingRoman PayneThe SelfFemale BeautyFeminine PowerGirl QuotesWoman S CharacterPayneFemale HeroWanderessVaginaMapFemale LiberationForeplayTraveling AloneBeing AliveEuropaThe WanderessOral SexTravailPoetessSeduceFeminismo RadicalExpatriateFundamentalEnjoyingVaginasAdventuressDreameressOralTraveling Around The WorldWayfaringWord MeaningsTraveling AbroadGirlpowerRoamWomans StrengthFillesRoman Payne QuoteTormentingWanderloveTravaillerWayfarerAestheteAt OneFemenismThe Love Of EuropaWanderess QuoteBody FluidsSeduce WomanSeduce WomenTags AdventuressWandranWest GermanicWine Women
Book:The Love of Europa: Limited Time Edition
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“Ô, the wine of a woman from heaven is sent, more perfect than all that a man can invent. When she came to my bed and begged me with sighs not to tempt her towards passion nor actions unwise, I told her I’d spare her and kissed her closed eyes, then unbraided her body of its clothing disguise. While our bodies were nude bathed in candlelight fine I devoured her mouth, tender lips divine; and I drank through her thighs her feminine wine. Ô, the wine of a woman from heaven is sent, more perfect than all that a man can invent.”

LoveLifeWisdomRunningBeautifulHappinessDesirePoetryMotivationTimeGirlPassionLiteratureWomenGoalImaginationFreedomPowerRiskDreamsFeminismStrengthInspireSweetLife PhilosophyLoversTravelLivingRomanticFemaleEmpowermentSacredWineMemoryPassionateGoalsSurrenderWanderSensualityKissSensualWomanGentleGirlsFeminineHidingBedroomMaking LoveFirst LoveLovingWomanhoodFemininityGirl PowerFemale EmpowermentHeartsSeductiveWomen S LiberationDriveWomen S InspirationalFemale CharactersWomen S StrengthRomanWanderlustWildnessAllegoryWanderingWandererSecretiveFemmePrettyFemalesWoman S StrengthRoamingKidRoman PayneFemale BeautyGirl QuotesWoman S CharacterPayneFemale HeroWanderessMapFemale LiberationThe WanderessPoetessExpatriateEnjoyingAdventuressDreameressWayfaringFillesJeune Fille
Author:Roman Payne
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“The Tentacled Maws by Stewart Stafford Unhook the mind, Put honesty in dispute, From chosen blood, Comes officious brute. Tentacled things taking, Malicious, maladroit maws, In a hubris blizzard blind, Behind lupine power doors. Irradiated golden pockets, Ragged wretches starving, Dynasties sprouting weeds, Names on plaques for carving. © 2025, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”

PoetryPovertyGreedExistentialismDystopianSurrealismSocial CommentaryAllegoryPolitical SatireCosmic Horror
Author:Stewart Stafford
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“And these explanations of the sacred scriptures are delivered by mystic expressions in allegories, for the whole of the law appears to these men to resemble a living animal, and its express commandments seem to be the body, and the invisible meaning concealed under and lying beneath the plain words resembles the soul, in which the rational soul begins most excellently to contemplate what belongs to itself, as in a mirror, beholding in these very words the exceeding beauty of the sentiments, and unfolding and explaining the symbols, and bringing the secret meaning naked to the light to all who are able by the light of a slight intimation to perceive what is unseen by what is visible.”

BibleScriptureMeaningInterpretationAllegorySpiritual Meaning
Book:The Works of Philo
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“On this material plane, each living being is like a street lantern lamp with a dirty lampshade. The inside flame burns evenly and is of the same quality as all the rest—hence all of us are equal in the absolute sense, the essence, in the quality of our energy. However, some of the lamps are “turned down” and having less light in them, burn fainter, (the beings have a less defined individuality, are less in tune with the universal All which is the same as the Will)—hence all of us are unequal in a relative sense, some of us being more aware (human beings), and others being less aware (animal beings), with small wills and small flames. The lampshades of all are stained with the clutter of the material reality or the physical world. As a result, it is difficult for the light of each lamp to shine through to the outside and it is also difficult to see what is on the other side of the lampshade that represents the external world (a great thick muddy ocean of fog), and hence to “feel” a connection with the other lantern lamps (other beings). The lampshade is the physical body immersed in the ocean of the material world, and the limiting host of senses that it comes with. The dirt of the lampshade results from the cluttering bulk of life experience accumulated without a specific goal or purpose. The dirtier the lampshade, the less connection each soul has to the rest of the universe—and this includes its sense of connection to other beings, its sense of dual presence in the material world and the metaphysical world, and the thin connection line to the wick of fuel or the flow of electricity that resides beyond the material plane and is the universal energy. To remain “lit” each lantern lamp must tap into the universal Source of energy. If the link is weak, depression and-or illness sets in. If the link is strong, life persists. This metaphor to me best illustrates the universe.”

LifeSoulUniverseExistenceMetaphorShadeFlameAllegoryLife ForceLampWickLamp Shade
Book:The Perpetual Calendar of Inspiration
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“Every day a jailor brought the prisoners their food, and as he laid down the dishes he would say a word to them. If their meal was flesh he would remind them that they were eating corpses, or give them some account of the slaughtering: or, if it was the inwards of some beast, he would read them a lecture in anatomy and show the likeness of the mess to the same parts in themselves—which was the more easily done because the giant’s eyes were always staring into the dungeon at dinner time. Or if the meal were eggs he would recall to them that they were eating the menstruum of a verminous fowl, and crack a few jokes with the female prisoners. So he went on day by day. Then I dreamed that one day there was nothing but milk for them, and the jailor said as he put down the pipkin: ‘Our relations with the cow are not delicate—as you can easily see if you imagine eating any of her other secretions.’ Now John had been in the pit a shorter time than any of the others: and at these words something seemed to snap in his head and he gave a great sigh and suddenly spoke out in a loud, clear voice: ‘Thank heaven! Now at last I know that you are talking nonsense.’ ‘What do you mean?’ said the jailor, wheeling round upon him. ‘You are trying to pretend that unlike things are like. You are trying to make us think that milk is the same sort of thing as sweat or dung.’ ‘And pray, what difference is there except by custom?’ ‘Are you a liar or only a fool, that you see no difference between that which Nature casts out as refuse and that which she stores up as food?’ ‘So Nature is a person, then, with purposes and consciousness,’ said the jailor with a sneer. ‘In fact, a Landlady. No doubt it comforts you to imagine you can believe that sort of thing;’ and he turned to leave the prison with his nose in the air. ‘I know nothing about that,’ shouted John after him. ‘I am talking of what happens. Milk does feed calves and dung does not.”

PhilosophyLogicAllegoryLogical Fallacy
Author:CS Lewis
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“You can live for a long time inside the shell you were born in. But one day it'll become too small." "Then what?" I ask. "Well, then you'll have to find a larger shell to live in." I consider this for a moment. "What if it's too small but you still want to live there?" She sighs. "Gracious, child, what a question. I suppose you'll either have to be brave and find a new home or you'll have to live inside a broken shell.”

HomeBodyHuman NatureBrokenBraveAllegoryShell
Book:A Piece of the World
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“If a writer of prose knows enough about what he is writing about he may omit things that he knows and the reader, if the writer is writing truly enough, will have a feeling of those things as strongly as though the writer had stated them. The dignity of movement of an ice-berg is due to only one-eighth of it being above water. A writer who omits things because he does not know them only makes hollow places in his writing. A writer who appreciates the seriousness of writing so little that he is anxious to make people see he is formally educated, cultured or well-bred is merely a popinjay. And this too remember; a serious writer is not to be confounded with a solemn writer. A serious writer may be a hawk or a buzzard or even a popinjay, but a solemn writer is always a bloody owl.”

WritingWisdomSuccessCultureKnowledgeSeriousWriterBloodySeriousnessSolemnOwlAllegoryIcebergHawkBuzzardPopinjay
Author:Ernest Hemingway
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“The Philosopher’s Weight by Stewart Stafford Philosopher in my peripheral vision, Pouring watery wisdom rapidly Into my ear, then stepping back, Smiling, he bid me go on my way. What he said made my way clearer, But added to the burden on my back, While lightening his own load, In guiding a stranger through the dark. What advice did the wise one give me? "Follow one step with another and live, My son, use any difficulty you find As a beacon on your journey to salvation." © 2026, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”

InspirationalWisdomPoetrySpiritualityPhilosophicalSelf DiscoveryExistentialismMetaphysicalAllegoryShort Read
Author:Stewart Stafford
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“One morning, a young Taoist priest named Silent Thunder Ghost ran up mount Mianshan to see a Taoist Immortal. The trail was long and arduous, and along the way many perilous paths were obscured by the morning mists. Arriving at the mountain peak he found the one called He Who Hides in Clouds, trying to balance a twisted, gnarly wooden staff on top of his finger. 'Dry me a wooden mountain…' said the Immortal who then threw his staff at least a mile high into the sky, whereupon the sun seemingly appeared from nowhere sending golden beams of sunlight onto his face. 'If it was me, and that was my go at life, I don’t think I’d want to do it again,' he said laughing, then he looked at his visitor. 'You are here to tell me you are making progress no doubt, have you found the Tao?' Unable to conceal his excitement Silent Thunder Ghost replied, 'I am no longer blind. I know the Tao and its ten thousand gifts. I live, I breathe, I see, I am life, I am the mountains, the morning dew on the trees, the moonlight reflecting in the lake, the starlight in my eyes, all these things are mine. My awareness is within me but reaches out to the furthest reaches of space.' As soon as he said this the gnarly old staff fell back to Earth, whereupon He Who Hides in Clouds caught it deftly with one hand and went on to press the tip against Silent Thunder Ghost’s chest. The Immortal said, 'All things are yours except your heart… the Tao keeps that part all to itself.' And then he vanished quite slowly and as he disappeared Silent Thunder Ghost was left holding the gnarly old staff, wondering if the conversation had ever really happened at all.”

MadnessTaoismProvidenceGhostsGodsTaoAllegoryEsoteric WisdomImmortals
Author:J.L. Haynes
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“What does Éloa mean?” He narrowed his gaze, answered her literally. “It’s the name of an angel.” Penelope tilted her head, thinking. “I’ve never heard of him.” “You wouldn’t have.” “Was he a fallen angel?” “She was, yes.” He hesitated, not wanting to tell her the story, but unable to stop himself. “Lucifer tricked her into falling from heaven.” “Tricked her how?” He met her gaze. “She fell in love with him.” Penelope’s eyes widened. “Did he love her?” Like an addict loves his addiction. “The only way he knew how.” She shook her head. “How could he trick her?” “He never told her his name.”

LoveSeductionAngelsLuciferAllegoryEloa
Book:A Rogue by Any Other Name
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“All we who write put me in mind of sailors hastily making rafts upon doomed ships. When we break up under the heavy years and go down into eternity with all that is ours our thoughts like small lost rafts float on awhile upon Oblivion’s sea. They will not carry much over those tides, our names and a phrase or two and little else. They that write as a trade to please the whim of the day, they are like sailors that work at the rafts only to warm their hands and to distract their thoughts from their certain doom; their rafts go all to pieces before the ship breaks up. See now Oblivion shimmering all around us, its very tranquility deadlier than tempest. How little all our keels have troubled it. Time in its deeps swims like a monstrous whale; and, like a whale, feeds on the littlest things--small tunes and little unskilled songs of the olden, golden evenings--and anon turneth whale-like to overthrow whole ships. See now the wreckage of Babylon floating idly, and something there that once was Nineveh; already their kings and queens are in the deeps among the weedy masses of old centuries that hide the sodden bulk of sunken Tyre and make a darkness round Persepolis. For the rest I dimly see the forms of foundered ships on the sea-floor strewn with crowns. Our ships were all unseaworthy from the first. There goes the raft that Homer made for Helen.”

TimeMythologyWriters On WritingAllegory
Book:Fifty-One Tales Illustrated
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“Every novel which is truly written contributes to the total of knowledge which is there at the disposal of the next writer who comes, but the next writer must pay, always, a certain nominal percentage in experience to be able to understand and assimilate what is available as his birthright and what he must, in turn, take his departure from. If a writer of prose knows enough about what he is writing about he may omit things that he knows and the reader, if the writer is writing truly enough, will have a feeling of those things as strongly as though the writer had stated them. The dignity of movement of an ice-berg is due to only one-eighth of it being above water. A writer who omits things because he does not know them only makes hollow places in his writing. A writer who appreciates the seriousness of writing so little that he is anxious to make people see he is formally educated, cultured or well-bred is merely a popinjay. And this too remember; a serious writer is not to be confounded with a solemn writer. A serious writer may be a hawk or a buzzard or even a popinjay, but a solemn writer is always a bloody owl.”

WritingKnowledgeNovelExperienceProseWriterSeriousnessOwlAllegoryIceberg
Book:Death in the Afternoon
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“Kevin Williamson: I thought, "What is this really about?" It's this young girl who is dealing with death. I went, "Okay check that box." It's about how this dead man comes along and brings her back to life. I went "Okay, wouldn't that be lovely? That's certainly what I need right now." And so I used that metaphor and played against the allegory, and Julie and I sat down at a kitchen table and we wrote it and we just cried over it. We tried to find that part of it that was really about Elena trying to learn how to live again. And it worked. It really worked. And in a weird way, the whole show was my Stefan.”

LifeDeathGriefAllegoryThe Vampire DiariesTvdElena GilbertStefan SalvatoreKevin Williamson
Book:I Was Feeling Epic: An Oral History of The Vampire Diaries
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“...when a person, instead of adopting metaphors that come naturally and opportunely in his way, rummages the whole world in quest of them, and piles them one upon another; when he cannot so properly be said to use metaphor as to talk in metaphor, or rather when from metaphor he runs into allegory, and thence into enigma, his words are not the immediate signs of his thought; they are at best but the signs of the signs of his thought.”

MetaphorThoughtAllegoryEnigma
Book:The Philosophy of Rhetoric
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“In order to get over the ethical difficulties presented by the naive naturalism of many parts of those Scriptures, in the divine authority of which he firmly believed, Philo borrowed from the Stoics (who had been in like straits in respect of Greek mythology), that great Excalibur which they had forged with infinite pains and skill—the method of allegorical interpretation. This mighty 'two-handed engine at the door' of the theologian is warranted to make a speedy end of any and every moral or intellectual difficulty, by showing that, taken allegorically or, as it is otherwise said, 'poetically' or, 'in a spiritual sense,' the plainest words mean whatever a pious interpreter desires they should mean.”

DivineAuthorityDifficultyScriptureInterpretationEthicalGreek MythologyTheologianNaturalismAllegoryStoicsExcaliburAllegorical Interpretation
Book:The Evolution Of Theology: An Anthropological Study
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“Afraid you won’t be able to keep up,” needled Volant, interrupting. “I thought you were The Fastest Flier in the Sky?!” “Really,” said Gabby. “That’s how you’re going to play this?” “Yep, slowpoke, that’s how I’m going to play it.” And without another word, Volant the eagle launched into the air, pointed south, with not so much as a glance back.”

ScienceFriendshipDiseaseThought ProvokingBatsAllegoryEpidemicBajaWhite Nose Syndrome
Book:Bat Cave: A Fable of Epidemic Proportions
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“Reluctantly the four people backed away from the fence, the young man shouting to the young woman and cupping his hand to his ear as if holding a phone. The young woman shook her head yes, then turned to walk back up the coast, holding the small girl’s hand, the uniformed man close behind. When the young woman looked back over her shoulder one last time, the small girl broke away, sprinting out onto the beach. The young woman raced out and caught the small girl, but not before she had scattered a flock of seagulls into the sky.”

ScienceDiseaseBatsAllegoryEpidemicSeagullEagleBajaWhite Nose Syndrome
Book:Bat Cave: A Fable of Epidemic Proportions
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“Wow, so much to learn!" said Volant the eagle. "Fish-eating bats, pale bats, bats with little ears, bats with long noses, bats with noses that look like leaves… Next thing you know, you’re going to tell me there are bats that drink blood like vampires!” “There are those, indeed, as well,” said Sully the Leaf-nosed bat.”

ScienceDiseaseBatsAllegoryEpidemicSeagullEagleBajaWhite Nose Syndrome
Book:Bat Cave: A Fable of Epidemic Proportions
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“Some of the guard bats hung from the tall cardón cactus that partially blocked the entrance to the cave; some guard bats hung along the edge of the cave entrance. The presence of these burly guards, along with the big cardón cactus, created a formidable boundary, a wall of sorts that could be used for controlling entry to the cave. And for the Pallid bats controlling who could enter the cave was precisely the goal.”

ScienceDiseaseBatsAllegoryEpidemicSeagullEagleBajaWhite Nose Syndrome
Book:Bat Cave: A Fable of Epidemic Proportions
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“The people said there might be disease in the cave," said Gabby the seagull. "They seemed really worried. They kept talking about how people can give the bats something called COVID and how bad that would be because even if the bats don’t get sick they can pass it on to other animals or right back to people later. And also they talked about a fungus and white noses and feeble bats and bats flying off-kilter and about how bat colonies around the world have been wiped out.”

ScienceDiseaseBatsAllegoryEpidemicSeagullEagleBajaWhite Nose Syndrome
Book:Bat Cave: A Fable of Epidemic Proportions
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“Once she’d lifted the bat out of the cage, the younger woman turned slowly, lifted her hands high, then said, “Time to go home, little one” as she opened her hands. The bat hesitated for a moment, as if unclear it was free to go, then it fluttered away. The people watched by headlamp as the bat circled them twice, before disappearing into the sky. All the while, the older man with the camera had been positioning himself to record the moment. His photo caught the young scientist silhouetted on one side of the image, the dark outline of the island on the other side, just as the bat took flight into the orange sunrise glowing across the water.”

ScienceDiseaseBatsAllegoryEpidemicSeagullEagleBajaWhite Nose Syndrome
Book:Bat Cave: A Fable of Epidemic Proportions
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“As they moved to push off the boat, a loud squawk sounded near at hand. The people pulled up short in time see the outline of a seagull fly past, the bird chattering wildly. Before anyone could speak, another bird took flight from the palapa. This bird, far larger than the first, passed overhead as a dark apparition. The big bird made no sound, save the gentle whoosh from its massive wings.”

ScienceDiseaseBatsAllegoryEpidemicSeagullEagleBajaWhite Nose Syndrome
Book:Bat Cave: A Fable of Epidemic Proportions
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“I’ve always wanted to go to Australia," said Volant the eagle. "Just think of it: kangaroos and koala bears, wallabies and wombats!” “Cool enough,” returned Gabby the seagull. “But I’ve always wanted to see a platypus. Sort of a beaver with a duckbill?! How can that possibly be?” “Nothing surprises me much anymore,” said Volant. “Seems like almost anything is possible.”

ScienceDiseaseAustraliaBatsAllegoryEpidemicSeagullEagleBajaWhite Nose Syndrome
Book:Bat Cave: A Fable of Epidemic Proportions
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“As Augustus basked in self-praise, he became aware of a movement beyond his reflection, beyond the glass. At first he saw the flicking tail of the yellow goatfish, then a blue and gold tang, then a school of pearl wrasses. As he refocused his eyes into the tank he realized that all of the creatures of the aquarium were just across the glass, all of them staring at him. What on Earth is going on here, their expressions seemed to say. Augustus shook his head, suddenly uncomfortable. “Youse all there in the fish tank,” he growled, pointing, “youse can go stuff yerself for all I care! I’m done here.”

ScienceClimate ChangePublic PolicyFishMisinformationAllegoryFableAquarium
Book:FISH TANK: A Fable for Our Times
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“Surprisingly few tussles occurred over the falling food. ... Only Push the puffer and Hammy the parrotfish regularly stole more than their fair share. But they argued that as they were bigger than the others, they deserved more. “Plus,” Push said, “and I don’t mean to be indelicate here, but some of you eat our ordure. Thus if we get more, you get more.” “Let’s face it,” added Hammy, wanting to add to Push’s words, “that is the way the world works.”

ScienceClimate ChangePublic PolicyFishMisinformationAllegoryFableAquarium
Book:FISH TANK: A Fable for Our Times
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