There is no hatred in my love for you. Only a sadness I feel all the more strongly for my inability to explain or describe it.
I don't try to describe the future. I try to prevent it.
The epithet beautiful is used by surgeons to describe operations which their patients describe as ghastly, by physicists to describe methods of measurement which leave sentimentalists cold, by lawyers to describe cases which ruin all the parties to them, and by lovers to describe the objects of their infatuation, however unattractive they may appear to the unaffected spectators.
As soon as you try to describe a close friendship, it loses something.
It's hard to describe to people how terrible it was when you could only watch cartoons at a certain time in your life.
Perhaps one day we will do “everything that we can to protect our people and the timeless values that we stand for. ” But today, we won’t even honestly describe the motivations of our enemies. And in the act of lying to ourselves, we continue to pay lip service to the very delusions that empower them.
I love the sound of words, the feel of them, the flow of them. I love the challenge of finding just that perfect combination of words to describe a curl of the lip, a tilt of the chin, a change in the atmosphere. Done well, novel-writing can combine lyricism with practicality in a way that makes one think of grand tapestries, both functional and beautiful. Fifty years from now, I imagine I’ll still be questing after just that right combination of words.
A given circle cannot be so true that a truer one cannot be found; and the movement of a sphere at one moment is never precisely equal to its movement at another, nor does it ever describe two circles similar and equal, even if from appearances the opposite may seem true.
I would describe myself as quite sane and lucid, which is why I'm still alive.
Oh, you can't describe someone you're in love with!
I enjoy women's conversation, and I think that helps me to describe them in fiction.
The truth is that no one who hasn't actually experienced the senseless chaos and violence of combat can possibly understand it, but those who have and who try to explain it to the rest of us are offering us a precious gift: a part of their soul that's been scorched in the flames of Hell. It's a little like trying to describe music to the deaf or color to the blind. . . to make the irrational somewhat sensible, which is always confusing and frustrating, and ultimately futile.
The very word 'Anfield' means more to me than I can describe.
You know, people always ask me how I describe my music. First of all I tell them that's their job and then that also one day I hope to have things referred to as Martha Wainwright -esque.
I describe my music as a mix of juices - Tropicana orange juice and a little bit of off-brand pineapple juice. I guess you could call it generic-brand pineapple-wave.
. . . the computer models are very good at solving equations of fluid dynamics but very bad at describing the real world. The real world is full of things like clouds and vegetation and soil and dust which the models describe very poorly.
The music defied classification. If I had been writing a review of the show, I would have labeled it progressive, guitar-driven rock ’n’ roll. But the guitars made sounds guitars didn’t always make. Symphonic sounds. Sacred sounds. The music dug in so deep you didn’t hear it so much as feel it, reminding me of a dream I used to have when I was a kid, where I would be standing on a street corner, I would jump into the air, flap my arms, and soar up into the sky. That’s the only way I could describe the music. It was the sonic equivalent of flight.
That's the whole problem with science. You've got a bunch of empiricists trying to describe things of unimaginable wonder.
I just wish they'd put a new word in the dictionary bigger than love because love just doesn't describe what I feel.
If you can't describe what you are doing as a process, you don't know what you're doing.