Hypnotic Quotes

“A JEWELRY STORE NAMED INDIA

If you hold this
Dazzling emerald
Up to the sky,
It will shine a billion
Beautiful miracles
Painted from the tears
Of the Most High.
Plucked from the lush gardens
Of a yellowish-green paradise,
Look inside this hypnotic gem
And a kaleidoscope of
Titillating,
Soul-raising
Sights and colors
Will tease and seduce
Your eyes and mind.

Tell me, sir.
Have you ever heard
A peacock sing?
Hold your ear
To this mystical stone
And you will hear
Sacred hymns flowing
To the vibrations
Of the perfumed
Wind.”
― Suzy Kassem, Rise Up and Salute the Sun: The Writings of Suzy Kassem

“Words, no matter whether they are vocalized and made into sounds or remain unspoken as thoughts, can cast an almost hypnotic spell upon you. You easily lose yourself in them, become hypnotized into implicitly believing that when you have attached a word to something, you know what it is. The fact is: You don’t know what it is. You have only covered up the mystery with a label. Everything, a bird, a tree, even a simple stone, and certainly a human being, is ultimately unknowable. This is because it has unfathomable depth. All we can perceive, experience, think about, is the surface layer of reality, less than the tip of an iceberg.”
― Eckhart Tolle, A New Earth: Awakening to Your Life's Purpose

“Forever is a hypnotic version of infinity.”
― Talismanist Giebra, Talismanist: Fragments of the Ancient Fire. Philosophy of Fragmentism Series.

“He bantered us, challenged us, electrified us . . . At times his eloquence held us silent as images and some witty turn, some humorous phrase brought roars of applause. At times we cheered almost every sentence, like delegates at a political convention, At other moments we rose in our seats and yelled. There was something hypnotic in his rhythm and phrasing. His power over his auditors was absolute.

{Garland's thoughts on the great Robert Ingersoll}”
― Hamlin Garland

“Soap operas have the same hypnotic power as witnessing clothes turning in a washing machine - if you don't look away quickly, you'll be watching until the end.”
― Stewart Stafford

“The travelers’ dances were wild and carefree and, summer after summer, Penelope learned to reveal her deepest truths through movement. The choreography of freedom had a hypnotic sway.”
― Sarah C. Patten, The Measure of Gold

“His voice was irresistible, gentle and forceful all at the same time. It held out the sincere promise that he was completely on your side and would never, ever, lie to you. It whispered in your ear other, darker promises. The students, the faculty, the alumni and the other members of the board listened, hypnotized, enraptured.”
― Helen Maryles Shankman, The Color of Light

“There is a smell, rich and sickly sweet, so pungent I feel as if I am being choked. A smell that is both new and curiously familiar. Notes of the most intense jasmine with a back note of vanilla and overripe mango.
The sea is too warm, and I cut short my night swim. As I pass through the garden, lanterns now glowing, the perfume has faded a little, it is less hypnotic, softer and more floral than before. Trumpets of deep-crimson hibiscus have closed for the night, chains of bougainvillea and a plant I do not know are the only ones in flower. It is this last from which the scent is emanating. Each blossom has thick white petals, crisp, like icing on a wedding cake. Almost too perfect to be real, the petals darken in the centre to a pale-yellow with a deep-saffron eye. Strangely, the scent is stronger from a distance than close up.
My mystery flower is frangipani, or if we are talking in botanical terminology, Plumeria, the name given to honor the seventeenth-century French monk and botanist Charles Plumier. I note that the almond filling known as frangipane was once perfumed with the extract, though we are a long, long way from Bakewell.
There are few perfumes I would call hypnotic-- tuberose, Casablanca lily, jasmine perhaps-- but frangipani is up there with them. I go back to my room, head throbbing, drunk on flowers.”
― Nigel Slater, A Thousand Feasts: Small Moments of Joy… A Memoir of Sorts