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“...careful the morning lest it wake from slumber the city half-encumbered by the morning mist ...”
John Geddes“Fear grows in the darkness of the mind. It vanishes with the light of knowledge like the morning mist.”
Debasish Mridha“I do not ask for the riches that perish or the fame that fades away like a morning mist.”
Mother Angelica“Day and night cannot dwell together. The Red Man has ever fled the approach of the White Man, as the morning mist flees before the morning sun.”
Chief Seattle“They rode through the quiet streets. The rain had stopped and an early morning mist fell around them under the streetlights. Victor remembered that his ancestors had believed this was a magical time when the gods walked the earth, Götterdämmerung, a time when men slept and divine creatures laid plans that ensnared or released them. He was not such a creature, no; he had to walk step by step on the hard earth beneath his feet and watch tragedies unfold, without shaping them. It was a disappointment to him.”
J.J. Brown, Vector a Modern Love Story“Some curses fade and leave nothing but the faintest mark, a tea stain on watered silk. There are those that are so malevolent that, upon defeat, explode in a fiery burst of sulfurous flames, burning everything they touch as they die. Others dissolve like morning mist in the brightness of the midday sun. Some cannot be defeated at all, but feed upon the energy spent trying to vanquish it, growing more and more potent with each failed attempt. And then there are those ancient curses with deceptively simple antidotes that shatter like jagged shards of a vast mirror. These curses may be broken, but never completely destroyed, sharp slivers of light distorted.”
Ava Zavora, Belle Noir: Tales of Love and Magic“Say I Am YouI am dust particles in sunlight.I am the round sun.To the bits of dust I say, Stay.To the sun, Keep moving.I am morning mist, and the breathing of evening.I am wind in the top of a grove, and surf on the cliff.Mast, rudder, helmsman, and keel,I am also the coral reef they founder on.I am a tree with a trained parrot in its branches.Silence, thought, and voice.The musical air coming through a flute,a spark of a stone, a flickering in metal.Both candle and the moth crazy around it.Rose, and the nightingale lost in the fragrance.I am all orders of being, the circling galaxy,the evolutionary intelligence, the lift,and the falling away. What is, and what isn't.You who know Jelaluddin, You the one in all,say who I am. Say I am You.”
Jalaluddin Rumi“I sit beside the fire and think Of all that I have seenOf meadow flowers and butterfliesIn summers that have beenOf yellow leaves and gossamerIn autumns that there wereWith morning mist and silver sunAnd wind upon my hairI sit beside the fire and thinkOf how the world will beWhen winter comes without a spring That I shall ever seeFor still there are so many thingsThat I have never seenIn every wood in every springThere is a different greenI sit beside the fire and thinkOf people long agoAnd people that will see a worldThat I shall never knowBut all the while I sit and thinkOf times there were beforeI listen for returning feet And voices at the door”
J.R.R. Tolkien“Early morning mist ghosted along the Orm, trailing above the water, rising and twisting. Wide and sleek and almost silent, the river curled through the valley, curved almost to the doors of the stone-terraced cottages sunk tight in the moorland. As soon as he was beyond sight of the mill gates, Manny ran, his step lighter, his boots crunching against the highway. The village was quiet now, and he could hear the faint cries of sheep on the hillside. He felt suddenly exultant at having acted decisively, felt the thrill of running away. Then he reasoned with himself that he wasn’t so much running away as running to something else—something better—running away to take charge of his future. He was improving his station in life, looking for work of his choosing.”
S.J. Wilkins, Hope