Allegory Quotes

Quotes tagged as "allegory" Showing 1-30 of 68
Augustine of Hippo
“The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page.”
St. Augustine

Cormac McCarthy
“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

William Shakespeare
“O, beware, my lord, of jealousy;
It is the green-ey'd monster, which doth mock
The meat it feeds on.”
William Shakespeare, Othello

J.R.R. Tolkien
“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

Sarah MacLean
“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

J.R.R. Tolkien
“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

Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
“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

Margaret Atwood
“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

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

Vera Nazarian
“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

William Golding
“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

J.R.R. Tolkien
“I cordially dislike allegory in all its manifestations...”

Ernest Hemingway
“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

Leah Wilson
“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

C.S. Lewis
“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

Margaret Atwood
“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

Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra
“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

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

C.S. Lewis
“Nowhere in Chaucer do we find what can be called a radically allegorical poem.”
C.S. Lewis

Chandel L. White
“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

Hari Manev
“The fruth is the truth revealed by stipulating what the meaning of 'is' is.”
Hari Manev, The Eye

“For what are the Aegyption Hierogliphicks, and the whole History of the Pagan Gods; the Hints, and Fictions of the Wise Men of Old, but in Effect, a kind of Philosophical Mythology ; Which is, in truth, no other, then a more Agreeable Vehicle found out for Conveying to us the Truth and Reason of Things, though the medium of Images and Shadows.”
Roger L'Estrange, Fables of Aesop and Other Eminent Mythologists, with Morals and Reflections and Fables and Stories Moralized: Being a Second Part of the Fables of Aesop

Matthew Roland
“Everywhere I look, I see discontent and restlessness. Ere Surentûr came, the people seemed at least somewhat content with what was allotted them in life; however, since the day he first arrived here, bringing prosperity and affluence, they now wish for more. Through this, they have become filled with a lust and greed for pleasures and worthless trinkets, making it so that they are no longer content with what they already have.”
Matthew Roland, Intriguing Inceptions: Essays in Fantasy & Science Fiction

Hélène Cixous
“Skaitome tam, kad iš naujo patirtume laimę atrasti ten išminčių ir draugą - knygą išminčių arba knygą beprotį (nes tik tokia yra tikra knyga - išminčius ir beprotis, išmintis būti bepročiu ir išminties beprotybė). Skaitome nebijodami, kad prarasime puslapis po puslapio augantį džiaugsmą, nes jau seniai supratome, kad taip sunaikindamas mylimą knygą jos neprarasi: vos ją perskaitę, užmirštame, skaitome ir užmirštame, skaitome tam, kad užmirštume, dukart užmirštume, užmirštume visiškai saugiai, nes ten, knygoje, esame užkerėti keleiviai, ir galiausiai užmiršta knyga spindulingai atsitraukia, vėl atgula į kapą tarsi brangi mylimoji, pasiruošusi grįžti vos išgirdusi savo vardą, kad pagelbėtų tuomet, kai reikia.”
Hélène Cixous, OR : Les lettres de mon père

W.H. Auden
“Dear little not-so-innocents, beware of
Old Grandmother Spider: rump her endearments –
She’s not quite as nice as She looks, nor you quite
as tough as you think.”
W.H. Auden

Matthew Roland
“Men are weak. Their most regrettable feature is their quick satiety with good. Throughout history, a continuous pattern has developed: whenever evil's day hand and the world is at peace, they become discontented and restless, eventually finding some way to stir the old evil back to life. Their hearts are easily corrupted and can be led to treachery on a mere whim. It is like unto a tree, which can never be completely felled. For all our efforts, it continues to sprout forth dark fruit which falls like seeds into the hearts of men. It seems that no matter how many times we may fell the tree or hew off its branches, it grows swiftly anew and again spawns much evil with its darksome yield.”
Matthew Roland, Intriguing Inceptions: Essays in Fantasy & Science Fiction

“If allegories unfold and any one of the above is true, you’re a speck in the larger order of things, useless, leading a pointless life.”
Sindhu Rajasekaran, So I Let It Be

“I dislike certainty because it feels like truth, but it isn’t. And I think I have had some inkling what it is for a whole people to become certain.”
Daniel Abraham, The King's Blood

Tony Del Degan
“There are more wicked things on this earth that the Specter King. You only have to know where to look.”
Tony Del Degan, The Plight of Steel

C.S. Lewis
“Every day a jailor brought the prisoners their food, and as he laid down the dishes he would say a word to them. If their meal was flesh he would remind them that they were eating corpses, or give them some account of the slaughtering: or, if it was the inwards of some beast, he would read them a lecture in anatomy and show the likeness of the mess to the same parts in themselves—which was the more easily done because the giant’s eyes were always staring into the dungeon at dinner time. Or if the meal were eggs he would recall to them that they were eating the menstruum of a verminous fowl, and crack a few jokes with the female prisoners. So he went on day by day. Then I dreamed that one day there was nothing but milk for them, and the jailor said as he put down the pipkin:
‘Our relations with the cow are not delicate—as you can easily see if you imagine eating any of her other secretions.’

Now John had been in the pit a shorter time than any of the others: and at these words something seemed to snap in his head and he gave a great sigh and suddenly spoke out in a loud, clear voice: ‘Thank heaven! Now at last I know that you are talking nonsense.’

‘What do you mean?’ said the jailor, wheeling round upon him.

‘You are trying to pretend that unlike things are like. You are trying to make us think that milk is the same sort of thing as sweat or dung.’

‘And pray, what difference is there except by custom?’

‘Are you a liar or only a fool, that you see no difference between that which Nature casts out as refuse and that which she stores up as food?’

‘So Nature is a person, then, with purposes and consciousness,’ said the jailor with a sneer. ‘In fact, a Landlady. No doubt it comforts you to imagine you can believe that sort of thing;’ and he turned to leave the prison with his nose in the air.

‘I know nothing about that,’ shouted John after him. ‘I am talking of what happens. Milk does feed calves and dung does not.”
CS Lewis

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