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Hypnotic Quotes

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Hypnotic Quotes

“A JEWELRY STORE NAMED INDIA If you hold this Dazzling emerald Up to the sky, It will shine a billion Beautiful miracles Painted from the tears Of the Most High. Plucked from the lush gardens Of a yellowish-green paradise, Look inside this hypnotic gem And a kaleidoscope of Titillating, Soul-raising Sights and colors Will tease and seduce Your eyes and mind. Tell me, sir. Have you ever heard A peacock sing? Hold your ear To this mystical stone And you will hear Sacred hymns flowing To the vibrations Of the perfumed Wind.”

SoulPoetryBeautyTearsWindPoemGardenIndiaSacredAncientIndianPerfumeMiraclesJewelryHymnsGemsColorsSuzy KassemIndian CulturePeacockKaleidoscopeStoneHypnoticEmeraldMost HighHindustanStoresacred
Book:Rise Up and Salute the Sun: The Writings of Suzy Kassem
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“There is a smell, rich and sickly sweet, so pungent I feel as if I am being choked. A smell that is both new and curiously familiar. Notes of the most intense jasmine with a back note of vanilla and overripe mango. The sea is too warm, and I cut short my night swim. As I pass through the garden, lanterns now glowing, the perfume has faded a little, it is less hypnotic, softer and more floral than before. Trumpets of deep-crimson hibiscus have closed for the night, chains of bougainvillea and a plant I do not know are the only ones in flower. It is this last from which the scent is emanating. Each blossom has thick white petals, crisp, like icing on a wedding cake. Almost too perfect to be real, the petals darken in the centre to a pale-yellow with a deep-saffron eye. Strangely, the scent is stronger from a distance than close up. My mystery flower is frangipani, or if we are talking in botanical terminology, Plumeria, the name given to honor the seventeenth-century French monk and botanist Charles Plumier. I note that the almond filling known as frangipane was once perfumed with the extract, though we are a long, long way from Bakewell. There are few perfumes I would call hypnotic-- tuberose, Casablanca lily, jasmine perhaps-- but frangipani is up there with them. I go back to my room, head throbbing, drunk on flowers.”

FlowerScentsHypnoticEast AfricaMauritiusFrangipaniPlumeria
Book:A Thousand Feasts: Small Moments of Joy… A Memoir of Sorts
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“He bantered us, challenged us, electrified us . . . At times his eloquence held us silent as images and some witty turn, some humorous phrase brought roars of applause. At times we cheered almost every sentence, like delegates at a political convention, At other moments we rose in our seats and yelled. There was something hypnotic in his rhythm and phrasing. His power over his auditors was absolute. {Garland's thoughts on the great Robert Ingersoll}”

HumorPowerGreatnessHonorSpeechRespectPraiseWitRhythmAdmirationCheerBestChallengeApplauseBanterHypnoticIngersollRobert G IngersollRobert IngersollRobert Green Ingersoll
Author:Hamlin Garland
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“To live sanely in Los Angeles ... you have to cultivate the art of staying awake. You must learn to resist (firmly but not tensely) the unceasing hypnotic suggestions of the radio, the billboards, the movies and the newspapers; those demon voices which are forever whispering in your ear what you should desire, what you should fear, what you should wear and eat and drink and enjoy, what you should think and do and be.”

ThinkingShouldArtDesireEnjoyVoiceForeverDrinkEarsRadioNewspapersAwakeDemonStayingLos AngelesSuggestionsWhisperingBillboardsHypnotic
Book:Exhumations: Stories, Articles, Verses
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“One has to be cautious and respectful of the power of the "substance" guides. I don't advocate imbibing the "little saint children," as Maria Sabina calls the magic mushrooms, or anything else for everyone. I find that certain substances reconnect me to a primal context of purpose that goes beyond identity and ownership. The writing-when I've worked it this way-is the kind of information you take back from dreams. Or it's hypnotic writing rather than getting off on some sort of pleasure trip or intellectual trip.”

WayWritingKindChildrenLittlesDreamPurposeCertainPleasureMagicInformationIdentityIntellectualSaintGuidesSubstanceOwnershipRespectfulCautiousPrimalMushroomsBe CautiousHypnoticImbibing
Author:Anne Waldman
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“The smell of good bread baking, like the sound of lightly flowing water, is indescribable in its evocation of innocence and delight... [Breadmaking is] one of those almost hypnotic businesses, like a dance from some ancient ceremony. It leaves you filled with one of the world's sweetest smells... there is no chiropractic treatment, no Yoga exercise, no hour of meditation in a music-throbbing chapel. that will leave you emptier of bad thoughts than this homely ceremony of making bread.”

WorldSoundWaterHoursMeditationFoodExerciseYogaFilledAncientDelightSmellBreadInnocenceTreatmentCulinaryCeremonySweetestBakingCuisineIndescribableChapelChiropracticHomelyHypnoticBad ThoughtsReal FoodFlowing WaterChefs CookingBaking Bread
Author:M. F. K. Fisher
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“Literary fiction and poetry are real marginalized right now. There's a fallacy that some of my friends sometimes fall into, the ol' "The audience is stupid. The audience only wants to go this deep. Poor us, we're marginalized because of TV, the great hypnotic blah, blah." You can sit around and have these pity parties for yourself. Of course this is bullshit. If an art form is marginalized it's because it's not speaking to people. One possible reason is that the people it's speaking to have become too stupid to appreciate it. That seems a little easy to me.”

PeopleIfsWantWritingLittlesArtRealSometimesReasonSeemsFormFallCoursesEasyPoorPartyFictionAudienceStupidTvsRight NowMy FriendsAppreciatePityBullshitFallacyMarginalizedBlahHypnoticPity Party
Author:David Foster Wallace
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“I'm so alive. As I stand facing the beauty of the never-ending Pacific Ocean, a late afternoon breeze blows down from the hills behind. As always, it is a beautiful day. The sun is making its final descent. The magic is about to begin. The skies are ready to burn with brilliance, as it turns from a soft blue to a bright orange. Looking towards the West, I stare in awe at the hypnotic power of the waves. A giant curl begins to take form, then breaks with a thundering clap as it crashes on the shore.”

BeautifulFormTurnsBehindsBreakSunAliveMagicSkyReadyOceanLateBlueWestFinalsWaveBlowHillsStaringGiantsAweShoreAfternoonCrashOrangeBreezeBrilliancePacificNever EndingDescentCurlsHypnoticBeautiful DayPacific OceanLate Afternoon
Book:A Child Called It
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“Maybe he sees it on my face, that fraction of a second when I let my guard down, because in that moment his expression softens and his eyes go bright as flame and even though I barely see him move, suddenly he has closed the space between us and he’s wrapping his warm hands over my shoulders—fingers so warm and strong I almost cry out—and saying, “Lena. I like you, okay? That’s it. That’s all. I like you.” His voice is so low and hypnotic it reminds me of a song. I think of predators dropping silently from trees: I think of enormous cats with glowing amber eyes, just like his.”

ThinkingMomentsHandsEyeFacesMovingSongStrongVoiceSpaceTreeCryExpressionLike YouLowsCatOkayFingersWarmShouldersEnormousFlamesHis EyesThat MomentDroppingGlowingFractionsPredatorSpace BetweenAmberI Like YouWrappingHypnoticAmber Eyes
Author:Lauren Oliver
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“She could smell the boy spice beneath the thrift-store aroma of his jacket, and the rubbing and the smell began to work to soften her -- like butter before you add sugar, in the first steps of making something sweet. It was her first experience of how bodies could meld together, how breath could slip naturally into rhythm. It was hypnotic. Heady. And she wanted more.”

FirstsBodyWantedTogetherStepsBoysSweetBreathsAddSmellStoresRhythmSlipsSugarFirst StepsJacketsSpicesThriftAromaHypnoticSomething Sweet
Author:Laini Taylor
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