Allegory Quotes

“The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page.”
― St. Augustine

“Once there were brook trout in the streams in the mountains. You could see them standing in the amber current where the white edges of their fins wimpled softly in the flow. They smelled of moss in your hand. Polished and muscular and torsional. On their backs were vermiculate patterns that were maps of the world in its becoming. Maps and mazes. Of a thing which could not be put back. Not be made right again. In the deep glens where they lived all things were older than man and they hummed of mystery.”
― Cormac McCarthy, The Road

“O, beware, my lord, of jealousy;
It is the green-ey'd monster, which doth mock
The meat it feeds on. That cuckold lives in bliss,
Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger:
But O, what damnèd minutes tells he o'er
Who dotes, yet doubts, suspects, yet strongly loves!”
― William Shakespeare, Othello

“I cordially dislike allegory in all its manifestations, and always have done so since I grew old and wary enough to detect its presence. I much prefer history – true or feigned– with its varied applicability to the thought and experience of readers. I think that many confuse applicability with allegory, but the one resides in the freedom of the reader, and the other in the purposed domination of the author.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

“What does Éloa mean?”

He narrowed his gaze, answered her literally. “It’s the name of an angel.”

Penelope tilted her head, thinking. “I’ve never heard of him.”

“You wouldn’t have.”

“Was he a fallen angel?”

“She was, yes.” He hesitated, not wanting to tell her the story, but unable to stop himself. “Lucifer tricked her into falling from heaven.”

“Tricked her how?”

He met her gaze. “She fell in love with him.”

Penelope’s eyes widened. “Did he love her?”

Like an addict loves his addiction. “The only way he knew how.”

She shook her head. “How could he trick her?”

“He never told her his name.”
― Sarah MacLean, A Rogue by Any Other Name

“A man inherited a field in which was an accumulation of old stone, part of an older hall. Of the old stone some had already been used in building the house in which he actually lived, not far from the old house of his fathers. Of the rest he took some and built a tower. But his friends coming perceived at once (without troubling to climb the steps) that these stones had formerly belonged to a more ancient building. So they pushed the tower over, with no little labour, and in order to look for hidden carvings and inscriptions, or to discover whence the man's distant forefathers had obtained their building material. Some suspecting a deposit of coal under the soil began to dig for it, and forgot even the stones. They all said: 'This tower is most interesting.' But they also said (after pushing it over): 'What a muddle it is in!' And even the man's own descendants, who might have been expected to consider what he had been about, were heard to murmur: 'He is such an odd fellow! Imagine using these old stones just to build a nonsensical tower! Why did not he restore the old house? he had no sense of proportion.' But from the top of that tower the man had been able to look out upon the sea.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, Beowulf and the Critics

“When I opened my eyes I saw nothing but the pool of nocturnal sky, for I was lying on my back with out-stretched arms, face to face with that hatchery of stars. Only half awake, still unaware that those depths were sky, having no roof between those depths and me, no branches to screen them, no root to cling to, I was seized with vertigo and felt myself as if flung forth and plunging downward like a diver.”
― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, Wind, Sand and Stars

“All my means are sane, my motive and my object mad.”
― Herman Melville, Moby-Dick or, the Whale

“I could end this with a moral,
as if this were a fable about animals,
though no fables are really about animals.”
― Margaret Atwood, The Tent

“On this material plane, each living being is like a street lantern lamp with a dirty lampshade.

The inside flame burns evenly and is of the same quality as all the rest—hence all of us are equal in the absolute sense, the essence, in the quality of our energy.

However, some of the lamps are “turned down” and having less light in them, burn fainter, (the beings have a less defined individuality, are less in tune with the universal All which is the same as the Will)—hence all of us are unequal in a relative sense, some of us being more aware (human beings), and others being less aware (animal beings), with small wills and small flames.

The lampshades of all are stained with the clutter of the material reality or the physical world.

As a result, it is difficult for the light of each lamp to shine through to the outside and it is also difficult to see what is on the other side of the lampshade that represents the external world (a great thick muddy ocean of fog), and hence to “feel” a connection with the other lantern lamps (other beings).

The lampshade is the physical body immersed in the ocean of the material world, and the limiting host of senses that it comes with.

The dirt of the lampshade results from the cluttering bulk of life experience accumulated without a specific goal or purpose.

The dirtier the lampshade, the less connection each soul has to the rest of the universe—and this includes its sense of connection to other beings, its sense of dual presence in the material world and the metaphysical world, and the thin connection line to the wick of fuel or the flow of electricity that resides beyond the material plane and is the universal energy.

To remain “lit” each lantern lamp must tap into the universal Source of energy.

If the link is weak, depression and-or illness sets in.

If the link is strong, life persists.

This metaphor to me best illustrates the universe.”
― Vera Nazarian, The Perpetual Calendar of Inspiration

“If a writer of prose knows enough about what he is writing about he may omit things that he knows and the reader, if the writer is writing truly enough, will have a feeling of those things as strongly as though the writer had stated them. The dignity of movement of an ice-berg is due to only one-eighth of it being above water. A writer who omits things because he does not know them only makes hollow places in his writing. A writer who appreciates the seriousness of writing so little that he is anxious to make people see he is formally educated, cultured or well-bred is merely a popinjay. And this too remember; a serious writer is not to be confounded with a solemn writer. A serious writer may be a hawk or a buzzard or even a popinjay, but a solemn writer is always a bloody owl.”
― Ernest Hemingway

“I was the only boy in our school what had asthma," said the fat boy with a touch of pride. "And I've been wearing specs since I was three.”
― William Golding, Barron's Book Notes: Lord of the Flies

“The two things that came out clearly were the sense of reality in the background and the mythical value: the essence of myth being that it should have no taint of allegory to the maker and yet should suggest incipient allegories to the reader.
[C.S. Lewis writes to J.R.R. Tolkien on December 7, 1929]”
― C.S. Lewis

“At this the duchess, laughing all the while, said: "Sancho Panza is right in all he has said, and will be right in all he shall say...”
― Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra, Don Quixote

“a thing may happen and be a total lie; another thing may not happen and be truer then the truth”
― Leah Wilson, The Girl Who Was on Fire: Your Favorite Authors on Suzanne Collins' Hunger Games Trilogy

“I follow suit, said the lion,
vacating his coat of arms
and movie logos; and the eagle said,
Get me off this flag.”
― Margaret Atwood, The Tent

“Twelve dead?” I said. “Jesus.”
― Dennis Lehane, A Drink Before the War

“On the Day of Judgment , life and death are not determined by the world but by God's wisdom and law”
― John Bunyan, The Pilgrim's Progress

“Long before there was ever a King James Version of our Bible, there was a gospel truth...and long before doctrines and denominations, the preeminence of the gospel was already ripe to harvest. Before man had ever thought about creating symbols to represent spiritual things...there was a gospel.”
― Chandel L. White, Romans to Jude - Precise Christian Scripture Revealed

“Afraid you won’t be able to keep up,” needled Volant, interrupting. “I thought you were The Fastest Flier in the Sky?!”

“Really,” said Gabby. “That’s how you’re going to play this?”

“Yep, slowpoke, that’s how I’m going to play it.”

And without another word, Volant the eagle launched into the air, pointed south, with not so much as a glance back.”
― Scott Bischke, Bat Cave: A Fable of Epidemic Proportions

“Thank goodness,” said Gabby after all the bats had landed. Then the seagull crept to the edge of the perch where he and Volant rested, and leaned far out and over, ducking and twisting his head to peer below the branches and almost tumbling into space. Straightening back up, Gabby exclaimed, “Talk about a head rush—the bats are all perched upside down!”
― Scott Bischke

“Reluctantly the four people backed away from the fence, the young man shouting to the young woman and cupping his hand to his ear as if holding a phone. The young woman shook her head yes, then turned to walk back up the coast, holding the small girl’s hand, the uniformed man close behind.

When the young woman looked back over her shoulder one last time, the small girl broke away, sprinting out onto the beach. The young woman raced out and caught the small girl, but not before she had scattered a flock of seagulls into the sky.”
― Scott Bischke, Bat Cave: A Fable of Epidemic Proportions

“Wow, so much to learn!" said Volant the eagle. "Fish-eating bats, pale bats, bats with little ears, bats with long noses, bats with noses that look like leaves… Next thing you know, you’re going to tell me there are bats that drink blood like vampires!”

“There are those, indeed, as well,” said Sully the Leaf-nosed bat.”
― Scott Bischke, Bat Cave: A Fable of Epidemic Proportions

“Some of the guard bats hung from the tall cardón cactus that partially blocked the entrance to the cave; some guard bats hung along the edge of the cave entrance. The presence of these burly guards, along with the big cardón cactus, created a formidable boundary, a wall of sorts that could be used for controlling entry to the cave.

And for the Pallid bats controlling who could enter the cave was precisely the goal.”
― Scott Bischke, Bat Cave: A Fable of Epidemic Proportions

“The people said there might be disease in the cave," said Gabby the seagull. "They seemed really worried. They kept talking about how people can give the bats something called COVID and how bad that would be because even if the bats don’t get sick they can pass it on to other animals or right back to people later. And also they talked about a fungus and white noses and feeble bats and bats flying off-kilter and about how bat colonies around the world have been wiped out.”
― Scott Bischke, Bat Cave: A Fable of Epidemic Proportions

“Once she’d lifted the bat out of the cage, the younger woman turned slowly, lifted her hands high, then said, “Time to go home, little one” as she opened her hands.

The bat hesitated for a moment, as if unclear it was free to go, then it fluttered away. The people watched by headlamp as the bat circled them twice, before disappearing into the sky.

All the while, the older man with the camera had been positioning himself to record the moment. His photo caught the young scientist silhouetted on one side of the image, the dark outline of the island on the other side, just as the bat took flight into the orange sunrise glowing across the water.”
― Scott Bischke, Bat Cave: A Fable of Epidemic Proportions

“As they moved to push off the boat, a loud squawk sounded near at hand. The people pulled up short in time see the outline of a seagull fly past, the bird chattering wildly. Before anyone could speak, another bird took flight from the palapa. This bird, far larger than the first, passed overhead as a dark apparition. The big bird made no sound, save the gentle whoosh from its massive wings.”
― Scott Bischke, Bat Cave: A Fable of Epidemic Proportions

“I’ve always wanted to go to Australia," said Volant the eagle. "Just think of it: kangaroos and koala bears, wallabies and wombats!”

“Cool enough,” returned Gabby the seagull. “But I’ve always wanted to see a platypus. Sort of a beaver with a duckbill?! How can that possibly be?”

“Nothing surprises me much anymore,” said Volant. “Seems like almost anything is possible.”
― Scott Bischke, Bat Cave: A Fable of Epidemic Proportions

“As Augustus basked in self-praise, he became aware of a movement beyond his reflection, beyond the glass. At first he saw the flicking tail of the yellow goatfish, then a blue and gold tang, then a school of pearl wrasses. As he refocused his eyes into the tank he realized that all of the creatures of the aquarium were just across the glass, all of them staring at him. What on Earth is going on here, their expressions seemed to say.

Augustus shook his head, suddenly uncomfortable. “Youse all there in the fish tank,” he growled, pointing, “youse can go stuff yerself for all I care! I’m done here.”
― Scott Bischke, FISH TANK: A Fable for Our Times

“Exactly!” shouted Sarin the crab, now standing on hind legs. The looks of fear had subsided from the faces of the creatures. “We have a right to be happy, and live well my friends. That’s why I’m telling you all to eat to your heart’s content!”
― Scott Bischke, FISH TANK: A Fable for Our Times