Mist Quotes

“Why is summer mist romantic and autumn mist just sad?”
― Dodie Smith, I Capture the Castle

“Kelsier smiled. 'It means that you, Vin, are a very special person. You have a power that most high noblemen envy. It is a power that, had you been born an aristocrat, would have made you one of the most deadly and influential people in all of the final empire.'
Kelsier leaned forward again. 'But, you weren't born an aristocrat. You're not noble, Vin. You don't have to play by their rules--and that makes you even more powerful.”
― Brandon Sanderson, Mistborn: The Final Empire

“for we all have
our own

twilights
and mists
and abysses

to return to.”
― Sanober Khan, A Thousand Flamingos

“Mist to mist, drops to drops. For water thou art, and unto water shalt thou return.”
― Kamand Kojouri

“At night the fog was thick and full of light, and sometimes voices.”
― Erin Bow, Plain Kate

“I returned to the courtyard and saw that the sun had grown weaker. Beautiful and clear as it had been, the morning (as the day approached the completion of its first half) was becoming damp and misty. Heavy clouds moved from the north and were invading the top of the mountain, covering it with a light brume. It seemed to be fog, and perhaps fog was also rising from the ground, but at that altitude it was difficult to distinguish the mists that rose from below and those that come down from above. It was becoming hard to discern the bulk of the more distant buildings.”
― Umberto Eco, The Name of the Rose

“Myth is mirth dressed in mist.”
― Rick Mave, Oblivion

“The night was white-blind with fog, and Kate staggered over every stone and stumbled in every puddle, but she pushed on as fast as she could.”
― Erin Bow, Plain Kate

“Flowers scattering -
The water we thirst for
Far off, in the mist.”
― Kobayashi Issa, The Essential Haiku: Versions of Basho, Buson, and Issa

“The snow is falling like a delicate rain of frozen mist”
― Jazz Feylynn

“Tendrils of mist slithered over the forest floor, around the base of trees. Xander noticed that some of it had climbed the porch pillars and drifted, almost invisibly, over the shingles of the porch roof. It reminded him of an old TV series Dean's dad had bought on DVD: Dark Shadows. It was about a creepy old house and a vampire who lived there. Barnabas, Xander remembered.”
― Robert Liparulo, House of Dark Shadows

“It is as if, he thought, the mist represents my life outside of here and now, and that anything else is still "out there", to be discovered, or not.”
― Julian Cheek, The Awakened

“That particular April day was strange and foggy, blurring spaces between the trees and blanketing all of Ellingham in a milky mist. Dottie decided that the weather lent itself to a mystery. Sherlock Holmes would be perfect.”
― Maureen Johnson, Truly, Devious

“The roiling, restless fog is like chaos before a storm, swirling streaks resembling wintry clouds. Serpents lurking there can spread its pestilence, and evil spirits can havoc wreak, sending pain and woe to the world of men, and the storms of wind and sand that plague the border wastes. Common souls meeting it fall dead. Great men observe it and despair. Are we returning to the primal state that preceded form itself — to undivided Heaven and earth?”
― Luo Guanzhong, Three Kingdoms

“February Soup by Stewart Stafford

The February fog,
Turns all into blobs,
Orange street lights,
To Valentine's Night.

When the wind strays,
Fog's mantle is grey,
Laying misty bouquets,
On barren, muddied days.

The daffodils of March,
Can cheer up Plutarch,
Adorned in Kelly green,
No sign of foggy screens.

© Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford

“after a hot shower, wipe the mirror and clear the mist covering it...look closely at yourself, see the reflection you want to see...breathe in, breathe out...now, let go of who you are, and become who you can be...”
― Bodhi Smith, Bodhi Smith Impressionist Photography

“The sun has disappeared, and the light there still is, is left in the atmosphere enclosed by the gloomy mist as pools are left by the receding tide. Through the sand the water slips, and through the mist the light glides away.
(Haunts of the Lapwing: I. Winter)”
― Richard Jefferies, Jefferies' England: Nature Essays by Richard Jefferies

“I breathe in the fine mist from the water, the scents of loam and clotted river grass.”
― Holly Black, The Stolen Heir

“Standing on the deck of a San Francisco ferryboat, in a gray suit so precisely the same colour as the fog that he seems (as in a not particularly scary movie) to be a ghostly floating head”
― Andrew Sean Greer, Less Is Lost

“Add some mystery to your morning coffee and stir in some mist. Or go full fog for that #MissMarpleFlavor. Then solve it sip by sip.”
― Jarod Kintz, The Lewis and Clark of The Ozarks

“You entered my life as quietly as the morning mist, and just as silently, you slipped away. I cherish every moment we shared, but your departure has left me broken. Now, I’ll spend the rest of my days picking up the pieces, trying to rebuild and complete myself again.”
― Shahid Hussain Raja

“So of the Flanders Moss. It, too, in mist seems to roll on for miles; its heathy surface turns to long waves that paly against the foot of the low range of hills, and beat upon Craigforth as if it were an island in the sea. Through wreathes of steam, the sullen Forth winds in and out between the peat hags, and when a slant of wind leaves it clear for an instant it looks mysterious and dark, as might a stream of quicksilver running down from a mine. When a fish leaps, the sound re-echoes like a bell, as it falls back into the water, and rings spread out till they are lost beneath the banks.”
― R.B. Cunninghame Graham, A Hatchment

“A backlit mist bathed the Cascade foothills in silver as Justin and I pledged our love before a justice of the peace. Standing in the same lush mountains where we’d first met, we exchanged rings, grinning on a stone stage in a fog-flowered forest clearing.”
― Aspen Matis, Your Blue Is Not My Blue: A Missing Person Memoir

“Then came the first hint of fog, all silver and gold, and then more and more, turning grey and blue. Fog like that was beautiful, and it was dangerous, for you could get lost in it easily.”
― Chiara Kilian, The First Tale of the Tinners' Rabbits

“When the Dragon bent her neck to shift a wing long as a battlefold, an ashen sheen rippled over char-dark scales.”
― Elizabeth Bear, Blood and Iron

“If you ought to pass through a mist, first think of the ground, then of the sky.”
― Florin-Marian Hera, Ten Loud Rocks

“As the droplets fell harder across his back and shoulders, he could feel his body disappearing bit by bit into the mist.
I am a ghost.”
― Dan Brown, The Da Vinci Code

“Ik zat op mijn handen en keek door het raam naar de mist, die uit het weiland achter de boomgaard kwam opzetten en voortdurend dikker werd. Na een poosje kon ik alleen nog de boom zien die het dichtst bij het raam stond: het was een jonge hoogstam, hij had nog nooit alleen in de mist gestaan en het zweet brak hem uit. Ik had medelijden met hem en besloot ook hèm een naam te geven, Juliette. Een meisjesnaam, waarom niet, hij zag er zo vrouwelijk uit, zo tenger, zo aandoenlijk hulpeloos en eenzaam met zijn veel te lage kalkring die aan een afgezakte armband deed denken. Het was een idee van Ingrid, om de bomen een naam te geven. Zij kon erg goed met ze opschieten en ik heb dikwijls het gevoel gehad, dat Hector beschaamd naar haar luisterde als ze tegen hem zei: Hector, je stelt me teleur, volgend jaar moet je méér geven hoor, of dat Lucien zachtjes stond te hijgen als ze bij hem neerhurkte en zei: wat heb jij daar een lelijke waterloot, Lucien, daar zullen we je eens gauw van afhelpen.”
― Ward Ruyslinck, De verliefde akela

“When your voice is soft like snow,
all the words you pick to show,
that even your nothing can be a good rhyme.

Like snow, since of water, the snowflakes are made,
the water flows soft, yet it cuts right through jade…

Words make a path, in Eternal mind-planes,
while thoughts turn to actions, eternal, from brains…

Our actions are done sometimes meaning without,
And someone once wrote, they give dreams here… about.

Somewhere in the boundless grey mists dreams sprout…”
― Will Advise, На чист Български...: Pristine Bulgarian sayings...

“Highlanders, driving their "creagh" toward Balquhidder, passed, their moccasin-clad feet leaving as little impress on the mist as they had left in life upon the tussocks of bent-grass. They urged the shadowy cattle with the ponts of their Lochaber axes; and last of all, wrapped in his plaid, his thick hair curling close about his hard-lined features, passed one I knew at once by his great length of arm and red beard, on which the damp hung in a frosty dew, just as it hung upon the coats of the West Highland kyloes that he drove before him on the rode. Though for two hundred years he had slept well in the lone graveyard of the deserted church beside Loch Voil, he seemed to know the road as perfectly as he had known it in his old foraying days. As he passed he moved his target forward and his hand stole to his sword, as if he recognised one of his ancient foes. Then he was swallowed up by the same mist that had protected him so often in his life.”
― R.B. Cunninghame Graham, Faith