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Metaphysical Fiction Quotes

Browse 19 quotes about Metaphysical Fiction.

Metaphysical Fiction Quotes

“The car was waiting for him, and in twenty minutes, he passed under the Broken Heart sign that used to read Tender Oak. Edward found it ironic that it was March. The harvest would begin soon. He’d first arrived at this place seventy-five years ago at the age of ten, in March, just before the harvest.”

“My fear traveled alongside me as an almost constant companion. It caused me to doubt myself all the time, to hesitate, to second-guess my decisions. Every day, I waged war against my mind and the fear that plagued it. I fought to live a life of my own choosing rather than a life dictated by fear and comfort. I fought the impulse to close, to numb, or to seek some form of escape. Every day, over and over, I chose to see, to stay open, to remain open.”

“When the storm comes, the formidable oak breaks easily, but the flowing willow bends and sways in the wind. When the storm's over, the willow straightens up again and regenerates. It sheds its damaged branches and leaves to reduce its overall burden and recover. Recovery takes time, and the willow allows it.”

“The gentle pulsing and flickering of stars and nebulae made a kind of music, a sweet easy mesh of whispered tones and sighing harmonies that held him in its force like the earth [holding] the moon.”

“The Scale of Light responds not to power, but to authenticity. Awakening is not a conquest. It is a return. Integration is not the absence of shadow, but the embrace of it.”

“The Shadow asked for its story back, and in listening, the self began to awaken.” ''Fear fractures the mind, but attention can weave the pieces together.” “In stillness, even the hidden parts find their voice.”

“Edward breathed in the sweet fragrance of the dogwood blossoms. The delicious air came into his lungs and passed into his blood, coursing through his veins with euphoric energy that he’d never experienced. He felt as strong as a hundred men as they passed out of the dogwood coppice and began the ascent up the hill. Their pace was leisurely. Edward could have run all the way to the top if he wanted, but no urge to do so imposed itself on him. For the first time in his life, Edward felt peace, down to the marrow of his bones.”

“A large, white, winged horse stands before me, wings outspread and nostrils dilated, she writes.  He tells me that he is here to carry me into the moonlit realms of imagination, dreams, and intuition.  He uses his hooves to strike at the ground of my being, to trigger wellsprings of poetic inspiration and artistic creativity fed by memories of times long since past, memories that often creep into the dream time.  Furthermore, he says the deep unconscious – in the form of a magician’s spell – is calling to me to remember who I have been and who I am destined to be.”

“Sharply etched against the black velvet canopy, the lady in white watches as her husband awakens, his deep orange smile lighting up the ebony darkness.  Casting her alabaster glow across the dark firmament, she blows a kiss to her beloved solar mate as she prepares for her own descent into sleep.  “Remember,” she whispers, “remember the sweet fragrance of my words.  Soft, cherishing words spoken on the currents of timelessness as one life morphs into the next.  Words of love and remembrance.”  Smiling contentedly, her light dims into the erupting color of the daytime sky.”