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Nymphs Quotes

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Nymphs Quotes

“Not to waste the spring I threw down everything, And ran into the open world To sing what I could sing... To dance what I could dance! And join with everyone! I wandered with a reckless heart beneath the newborn sun. First stepping through the blushing dawn, I crossed beneath a garden bower, counting every hermit thrush, counting every hour. When morning's light was ripe at last, I stumbled on with reckless feet; and found two nymphs engaged in play, approaching them stirred no retreat. With naked skin, their weaving hands, in form akin to Calliope's maids, shook winter currents from their hair to weave within them vernal braids. I grabbed the first, who seemed the stronger by her soft and dewy leg, and swore blind eyes, Lest I find I, before Diana, a hunted stag. But the nymphs they laughed, and shook their heads. and begged I drop beseeching hands. For one was no goddess, the other no huntress, merely two girls at play in the early day. "Please come to us, with unblinded eyes, and raise your ready lips. We will wash your mouth with watery sighs, weave you springtime with our fingertips." So the nymphs they spoke, we kissed and laid, by noontime's hour, our love was made, Like braided chains of crocus stems, We lay entwined, I laid with them, Our breath, one glassy, tideless sea, Our bodies draping wearily. We slept, I slept so lucidly, with hopes to stay this memory. I woke in dusty afternoon, Alone, the nymphs had left too soon, I searched where perched upon my knees Heard only larks' songs in the trees. "Be you, the larks, my far-flung maids? With lilac feet and branchlike braids... Who sing sweet odes to my elation, in your larking exaltation!" With these, my clumsy, carefree words, The birds they stirred and flew away, "Be I, poor Actaeon," I cried, "Be dead… Before they, like Hippodamia, be gone astray!" Yet these words, too late, remained unheard, By lark, that parting, morning bird. I looked upon its parting flight, and smelled the coming of the night; desirous, I gazed upon its jaunt, as Leander gazes Hellespont. Now the hour was ripe and dark, sensuous memories of sunlight past, I stood alone in garden bowers and asked the value of my hours. Time was spent or time was tossed, Life was loved and life was lost. I kissed the flesh of tender girls, I heard the songs of vernal birds. I gazed upon the blushing light, aware of day before the night. So let me ask and hear a thought: Did I live the spring I’d sought? It's true in joy, I walked along, took part in dance, and sang the song. and never tried to bind an hour to my borrowed garden bower; nor did I once entreat a day to slumber at my feet. Yet days aren't lulled by lyric song, like morning birds they pass along, o'er crests of trees, to none belong; o'er crests of trees of drying dew, their larking flight, my hands, eschew Thus I'll say it once and true… From all that I saw, and everywhere I wandered, I learned that time cannot be spent, It only can be squandered.”

SpringSeasonsGreek MythologyCarpe DiemSpringtimeLove MakingArtemisRoman PayneNymphsLamentationOvidLyrical WritingComing Of SpringLong PoemLyric PoemLyrical NovelPoem From NovelVernalActeon
Book:Rooftop Soliloquy
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“The hour of spring was dark at last, sensuous memories of sunlight past, I stood alone in garden bowers and asked the value of my hours. Time was spent or time was tossed, Life was loved and life was lost. I kissed the flesh of tender girls, I heard the songs of vernal birds. I gazed upon the blushing light, aware of day before the night. So let me ask and hear a thought: Did I live the spring I’d sought? It's true in joy, I walked along, took part in dance, and sang the song. and never tried to bind an hour to my borrowed garden bower; nor did I once entreat a day to slumber at my feet. Yet days aren't lulled by lyric song, like morning birds they pass along, o'er crests of trees, to none belong; o'er crests of trees of drying dew, their larking flight, my hands, eschew Thus I’ll say it once and true... From all that I saw, and everywhere I wandered, I learned that time cannot be spent, It only can be squandered.”

TimeSpringSeasonsInnocenceCarpe DiemSpringtimeLove MakingEndingsRoman PayneNymphsLamentationEnd Of LoveLyrical WritingComing Of SpringLong PoemLyric PoemLyrical NovelPoem From NovelVernalEnd Of InnocenceEnd Of Spring
Book:Rooftop Soliloquy
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“In ancient times, the Gorgon Medusa lived on the far side of Oceanus in the land of Night. She was an awesome dragonlike creature with bronze claws, great golden wings, and fierce eyes that turned her beholder to stone. At one time she had been a beautiful young woman who filled the world with joy, not death, but in a moment of foolish pride she had compared herself to Athena. Such arrogance enraged the noble goddess, and in revenge she turned Medusa's lush hair into a tangle of vile, hissing snakes. From that moment on, Medusa's stare brought the stillness of death to anyone who dared look into her eyes. Meanwhile Polydectes, King of Seriphos, wanted to destroy Perseus, so he sent him off to bring back Medusa's head, knowing that her gaze would kill the young hero. But Athena heard the king's command. Still angry with Medusa, she gave Perseus her bronze shield to defend himself when he attacked the Gorgon. Holding the shield as a mirror, Perseus saw only Medusa's reflection, and her deadly stare did not harm him. He cut off her head and put it into a cloth bag, then flew away with the aid of a pair of winged sandals given to him by Hermes. As Perseus soared over the African desert, blood seeped through the bag and fell to the hot sands below. As each drop hit the scorching ground, it turned to steam, and the rising vapors transformed into three dangerously beautiful nymphs.”

ReflectionAthenaNymphsMedusaPerseusMedusa MythologyGorgonMedusa Girls
Book:The Choice
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“We see not why in prose, there should not be much of that mighty licence in the fantastic, that measured riot, that right of whimsy, that unabashed dalliance with the extreme and the beautiful, which the world allows, by prescription, to verse. Why may not one in prose chase forest-nymphs, and see little green-eyed elves?”

FantasyProseElvesVerseNymphsWhimsyDalliance
Book:Essays Biographical and Critical: Chiefly on English Poets
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“This is nice," Beast said with a sigh. "Like... one of those paintings where a nymph or Athena is reading to the gods and goddesses." "And here I was thinking you were an utterly uneducated beast," Belle said teasingly. "I am a prince," he responded with hauteur. "I am classically educated. "Plus, nymphs are pretty," he added. Belle laughed. "I could stare at them all day," he continued. His tone was carefully neutral, but his eyes never left hers. And Belle found she could look back. And not blush. And not have to look away.”

BelleBeauty And The BeastNymphsStory TellingBelle And Adam
Book:As Old as Time
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“Haste thee, Nymph, and bring with thee Jest, and youthful Jollity, Quips, and Cranks, and wanton Wiles, Nods, and Becks, and wreathed Smiles, Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, And love to live in dimple sleek; Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides.”

CareSportsSidesLaughterAnd LoveTheeCheeksHasteJestWantonCrankQuipNymphsDimples
Book:Milton's Comus, L'allegro, and Il Penseroso: With Numerous Illustrative Notes &c
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“Oh, ants, my sisters, good old honeydew-seekers! From close up you are sticky and shiny and gristly; and your nymphs have parasitic red mites stuck to them. You are too intent upon your chewing and gathering to listen to me, but I tell you that despite my warm feelings I really do not like you, and I cannot feel sorry for you in any way because there are too many of you and you are not cute at all. You eat too much of my forests; you are a rebellious tribe, and I will destroy you; I will poison your nests with sweet-smelling traps.”

WayFeelsFeelingsToo MuchSweetLike YouRedSorryWarmStuckForestsDespiteCutePoisonMy SisterTrapsTribesGatheringSeekersRebelliousAntsNestsListen To MeChewingStickyNymphsFeel Sorry For You
Author:William T. Vollmann
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“Despite my mentors advice that I would never go to heaven fishing with a weighted nymph and a float, I took it up. (As an aside, it is now amazing to me how much of the advice from my elders in those days has not come true. I have not gone blind or deaf, despite some early teen advice to the contrary. The only time I was ever involved in a car accident, I was taken to hospital, but no one seemed to take the slightest bit of notice as to whether I had on clean underwear or not. I have, as yet, been unable to test the nymph and heaven advice.)”

HeavenBitsGoneTakenSeaAdviceCarInvolvedRiversTestsBlindCleanFishesAccidentsContraryDespiteBoatLakesFishingHospitalsMentorOnly TimeDeafEldersFloatsUnderwearCar AccidentNymphsClean Underwear
Author:Tony Bishop
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“And yet there are many times when it does not make any difference what pattern one uses. One thing is certain. The more bedraggled the fly gets the better the trout like it. I think there is a reason for this. I think the bedraggled half worn out wet fly more closely imitates a nymph than a new one does. Most commercial flies are tied too bushy and full. A little trimming of wings and thinning out of hackles will often work wonders.”

ThinkingLittlesDoeReasonUseCertainDifferencesHalfWonderOne ThingSeaRiversWingsPatternsFishesBoatLakesFishingTiedWetWornWorn OutTroutNymphsTrimming
Author:Ray Bergman
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“Tis chastity, my brother, chastity; She that has that is clad in complete steel, And, like a quiver'd nymph with arrows keen, May trace huge forests, and unharbour'd heaths, Infamous hills, and sandy perilous wilds; Where, through the sacred rays of chastity, No savage fierce, bandite, or mountaineer, Will dare to soil her virgin purity.”

MayBrotherHugeSacredDareForestsHillsMy BrotherPuritySoilRaysFierceSavagesSteelVirginsArrowsChastityInfamousSandyQuiverNymphsChastity Purity
Book:The Complete Poetical Works of John Milton: With Explanatory Notes and a Life of the Author, by H. Stebbing. To which is Prefixed Dr. Channing's Essay on the Poetical Genius of Milton
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“In Koln, a town of monks and bones, And pavement fang'd with murderous stones, And rags and hags, and hideous wenches, I counted two-and-seventy stenches, All well defined, and several stinks! Ye nymphs that reign o'er sewers and sinks, The River Rhine, it is well known, Doth wash your city of Cologne; But tell me, nymphs! what power divine Shall henceforth whash the river Rhine.”

WellsTwoCitiesKnownDivineRiversStonesTownsBonesDefinedReignWell KnownSeventiesMonkHideousFangsRagsStinkPavementSewersCologneNymphsWenches
Author:Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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“Beauties, when disposed to sleep, Should from the eye of keen inspector keep: The lovely nymph who would her swain surprise, May close her mouth, but not conceal her eyes; Sleep from the fairest face some beauty takes, And all the homely features homelier makes.”

ShouldMayEyeFacesSleepMouthsSurpriseLovelyFeaturesHer EyesHomelyInspectorsNymphs
Book:The poetical works of the Rev. George Crabbe: in eight volumes
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“Running, close companion to death, summons us to the most vivid acts of life. Our ancestors (we have forgotten) ran for food and for love, love and lust. For us, a prime symbol of sexuality is the automobile. For the ancients it was the chase, the foot race. Satyr and nymph, maiden and god, hot pursuit. The mythic hunters, Diana and Atalanta, available only to the males, men or gods, who could outrun them; death to all others.”

MenRunningRaceFeetHotMalesForgottenAvailableSexualityPursuitLustSymbolsRanCompanionPrimeAncestorHuntersVividAutomobileMaidensDianaOutrunNymphsLove And LustSatyrs
Book:The Ultimate Athlete
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“The academic teaching on beauty is false. We have been misled, but so completely misled that we can no longer find so much as a shadow of a truth again. The beauties of the Parthenon, the Venuses, the Nymphs, the Narcisusses, are so may lies. Art is not the application of a canon of beauty, but what the instinct and the brain can conceive independently of that canon.”

MayHas BeensArtLyingBrainTeachingArt IsShadowInstinctApplicationAcademicVenusMisledCanonNymphsParthenon
Author:Pablo Picasso
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“Now it’s high watermark and floodtide in the heart and time to go. The sea-nymphs in the spray will be the chorus now. What’s left to say? Suspect too much sweet-talk but never close your mind. It was a fortunate wind that blew me here. I leave half-ready to believe that a crippled trust might walk and the half-true rhyme is love.”

MindBelieveHeartMightLeftWalksHalfToo MuchSeaReadySweetWindFortunateSuspectsRhymeChorusSprayCrippledNymphsSweet Talk
Book:The Cure at Troy: A Version of Sophocles' Philoctetes
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“But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks, Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass; I, that am rudely stamped, and want love's majesty To strut before a wanton ambling nymph; I, that am curtailed of this fair proportion, Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, Deformed, unfinished, sent before my time Into this breathing world, scarce half made up, And that so lamely and unfashionable That dogs bark at me as I halt by them,-- Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace, Have no delight to pass away the time, Unless to spy my shadow in the sun.”

WorldWantMadeHalfSunDogShadowFairsWeakCourtGlassesDelightTricksBreathingFeaturesMy TimeProportionSpyMajestyScarcePassing AwayCheatedHaltBarkUnfinishedWantonNymphsAmorousSportive
Author:William Shakespeare
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“Nature is not always tricked in holiday attire, but the same scene which yesterday breathed perfume and glittered as for the frolic of the nymphs, is overspread with melancholy today. Nature always wears the colors of the spirit.”

TodaySpiritNatureColorSceneYesterdayHolidayMelancholyPerfumeAttireNymphs
Book:The Collected Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson: Nature, addresses, and lectures
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“Belief sloshes around in the firmament like lumps of clay spiralling into a potter's wheel. That's how gods get created, for example. They clearly must be created by their own believers, because a brief resume of the lives of most gods suggests that their origins certainly couldn't be divine. They tend to do exactly the things people would do if only they could, especially when it comes to nymphs, golden showers, and the smiting of your enemies.”

PeopleIfsBeliefEnemyExampleDivineBelieverGoldenWheelsShowersClayPottersResumesLumpsFirmamentNymphs
Author:Terry Pratchett
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“...it seemed to me I was living in an insane asylum of my own making. I wnt about with all these fantastic figures: centaurs, nymphs, satyrs, gods and goddesses, as though they were patients and I was analyzing them. I read a Greek or Negro myth as if a lunatic were telling me his anamnesis.”

IfsMy OwnFiguresPatientMythInsaneFantasticGreekGoddessLunaticAsylumsMemories Dreams ReflectionsAnalyzingNymphsInsane AsylumGods And GoddessesCentaursSatyrs
Author:Carl Jung
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“I felt the exact same way.But if it helps,you look much cuter freaking out than I ever did." I peeked out through my hands."But what if I don't get in?" He wrapped his arms around me. "No more worrying about it.You'll get in." "Good.Someone needs to keep an eye on you and that dirty little dyrad of a lab assistant." He laughed,squeezing me until I couldn't breathe. "Why would I ever want a lusty tree nymph when I could have a hyperventilating Evie?”

IfsWayWantNeedsLooksLittlesHelpingHandsEyeFeltWorryTreeArmsBreatheDirtyWhat IfLaughedAssistantsLabsSqueezingNymphsFreaking Out
Author:Kiersten White
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