Ansel Adams Quotes
We all move on the fringes of eternity and are sometimes granted vistas through fabric of illusion.
Ansel Adams
Quotes to Explore
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I've never been a six-foot-tall, skinny model, so therefore, I want to create an illusion. People always think I'm taller than I am - not just because of the shoes I wear but because of the way I dress. It's all relatively streamlined.
Victoria Beckham
Spice Girls
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I do not believe in the eternity of the spirit. That contradicts my ideology.
Yossi Sarid
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I propose to build for eternity.
Filippo Brunelleschi
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When a man sleeps, he is steeped and lost in a limp toneless happiness: awake he is restless, tortured by his body and the illusion of existence. Why have men spent the centuries seeking to overcome the awakened body? Put it to sleep, that is a better way. Let it serve only to turn the sleeping soul over, to change the blood-stream and thus make possible a deeper and more refined sleep.
Flann O'Brien
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I am a moment illuminating eternity....I am affirmation...I am ecstasy.
Alexander Scriabin
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At any given moment, I open my eyes and exist. And before that, during all eternity, what was there? Nothing.
Ugo Betti
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I’ve learned that fear is simply an illusion based on past experiences that we project into the present and onto the future.
Gabrielle Bernstein
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We are but a point, a single comma, and God is the literature of eternity.
Henry Ward Beecher
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I am convinced that those who get themselves involved in the machinery of power politics, even for the purpose of destroying it, are bound to fail in their purpose. To destroy it we have to stay out of it. If we want to cut down a tree, it is of no use to climb into its branches. The desire to keep contact with something, even to destroy it, is a subtle and insidious illusion.
Vinoba Bhave
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Growing up is losing some illusions, in order to acquire others.
Virginia Woolf
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The greatest tragedy of human existence is the illusion of separateness.
Albert Einstein
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Yea, I have looked, and seen November there; The changeless seal of change it seemed to be, Fair death of things that, living once, were fair; Bright sign of loneliness too great for me, Strange image of the dread eternity, In whose void patience how can these have part, These outstretched feverish hands, this restless heart?
William Morris
