Withering Quotes

“When grief impounds our thinking and eats our brains, it seeps through all the cracks of our daily living. Only the soothing wind of comforting words may counter the withering twilight and the frostiness of darkness. ("All the words he always wanted to tell her.")”
― Erik Pevernagie

“If we don’t manage to connect the dots anymore and the power of our imagination is creaking at the seams, in a world of withering expectations, we have to rewrite the script of our life. ("Into a new life")”
― Erik Pevernagie

“I wanted him to snap, to finally and absolutely lose it. To break. He was withering. To wither is not the same as to break; to break is to have pieces to put back together, and to wither is to dry up, to wilt, to lose bone, to die, and death is the most boring.”
― Gerardo Sámano Córdova, Monstrilio

“I realized that Joyce had gone as far as one could in the direction of knowing more, in control of one's material. He was always adding to it; you only have to look at his proofs to see that. I realised that my own way was impoverishment, in lack of knowledge and in taking away, subtracting rather than adding. When I first met Joyce, I didn't intend to be a writer. That only came later when I found out that I was no good at all at teaching. When I found I simply couldn't teach. But I do remember speaking about Joyce's heroic achievement. I had a great admiration for him. That's what it was: epic, heroic, what he achieved. I realized that I couldn't go down that same road.”
― Samuel Beckett

“I dunno, remember when we were in East St. Louis with George, and Jack you said you'd love those beautiful dancing girls if you knew they would live forever as beautiful as they are?" (p. 173)”
― Jack Kerouac, Big Sur

“Blooming and withering both are inevitable. Let's stay graceful in the process.”
― Nitya Prakash

“I dream of the
summers we kissed,
winters we missed,
spring that blossomed,
withering of the autumn,
with hope in my heart,
I dream of getting you back.”
― Pushpa Rana, Just the Way I Feel

“Governments must nurture freedom as a garden, tending to it vigilantly to prevent its withering under the shadow of authority.”
― Aloo Denish Obiero

“The roses are fading. Turmeric petals soften to the color of old dusters, magenta becomes palest violet, edges that were dark and sumptuous turn to the color of a tea stain. What was once as white as snow is now buttermilk. Their texture changes too: petals soft and strong enough to support a portly bumblebee dry to walnut-colored fragments frail and aging till they shatter.”
― Nigel Slater, A Thousand Feasts: Small Moments of Joy… A Memoir of Sorts