High Brow Quotes & Sayings

The Son of Darkness, a lone brow raised, slowly turned to regard the High King. 'What else, Kallor,' he said in a low, calm voice, 'keeps my blade from your black heart ... if not sentiment? — Steven Erikson

With her high pale brow under her faded brown hair, she was like a rock washed clean by years of her husband's absences at conventions, dinners, committee meetings or simply at the office. — Louis Auchincloss

They don't sleep here." My brow furrows. "How do you know?" "I just know," he says. "I can tell by looking at it." Before I can ask him any more, the curtain in the living room moves. The door yanks open, my mother appearing, eyes wide. She looks frantic. "Karissa," she shouts, her voice high-pitched, full of panic. "Oh God. Get away from him, sweetie." I blink a few times, caught off guard, as Naz slips his arms around me, pulling me flush against him. One arm encircles my waist as his other settles along my chest, — J.M. Darhower

He is not dead who departs from life with a high and noble fame; but he is dead, even while living, whose brow is branded with infamy. — Ludwig Tieck

One of those was occupied by a dwarf. Clean-shaved and pink-cheeked, with a mop of chestnut hair, a heavy brow, and a squashed nose, he perched on a high stool with a wooden spoon in hand, contemplating a bowl of purplish gruel with red-rimmed eyes. Ugly little bastard, Tyrion thought. The — George R R Martin

One wonders what the proper high-brow Romans ... read into the strange utterances of Lucretius or Apuleius or Tertullian, Augustine or Athanasius. The uncanny voice of Iberian Spain, the weirdness of old Carthage, the passion of Libya and North Africa. — D.H. Lawrence

I can't understand how a man who seems never to read imaginative writing of any kind (novels, poetry, short stories, high-brow, middle-brow, low-brow, anything) can understand life, people, the world. I don't care if ordinary people read or not. It's not for me to say how people should live. But people who have power over me? I want them to read because their limited, impoverished dreams may become my nightmares. — Yann Martel

Hold high the brow serene,
O youth, where now you stand;
Let the bright sheen
Of your grace be seen,
Fair hope of my fatherland! — Jose Rizal

I am very fond of Edith Wharton. She's quite high brow but also a great storyteller. My favorite is 'The House of Mirth.' I also like 'The Reef.' — Ken Follett

Billy's Adam's apple bobbed. "Don't-" The knife at his throat cut him short.
Black Tom cocked a thick brow. "Don't, wha? Hurt your littl' toffer?" Rotted teeth flashed. "She mean that much ta ye, then?"
Bill licked his lips quickly. His skin took on a grayish hue as sweat seeded over his high brow. "Don't piss 'er off," he managed. — Kristen Callihan

I have a very commercial appetite. I don't like to do high-brow things. — Sigourney Weaver

Why you fool, it's the educated reader who CAN be gulled. All our difficulty comes with the others. When did you meet a workman who believes the papers? He takes it for granted that they're all propaganda and skips the leading articles. He buys his paper for the football results and the little paragraphs about girls falling out of windows and corpses found in Mayfair flats. He is our problem. We have to recondition him. But the educated public, the people who read the high-brow weeklies, don't need reconditioning. They're all right already. They'll believe anything. — C.S. Lewis

Now I was shocked! The old shibboleth, intelligence! Had not our government been culpable enough in pampering the high-IQ draftees as though they were too intelligent to fight for their country? Could not Doctor Gentle see that I was proud to be a scout, and before that a machine gunner? Intelligence, intelligence, intelligence. Keep it up, America, keep telling your youth that mud and danger are fit only for intellectual pigs. Keep on saying that only the stupid are fit to sacrifice, that America must be defended by the low-brow and enjoyed by the high-brow. Keep vaunting head over heart, and soon the head will arrive at the complete folly of any kind of fight and meekly surrender the treasure to the first bandit with enough heart to demand it. — Robert Leckie

There was precious little nobility in the features of the High King's fleshy face. Like his body, his face was broad and heavy, with a wide stub of a nose, a thick brow, and deep-set eyes that seemed to look out at the world with suspicion and resentment. His hair and beard were just beginning to turn grey, but they were well combed and glistening with fresh oil perfumed ... heavily ... He was broad of shoulder and body, built like a squat turret, round and thick from neck to hips. He wore a sleeveless coat of gilded chain mail over his tunic ... Over the mail was a harness of gleaming leather, with silver buckles and ornaments. A jewelled sword hung at his side. His sandals had gold tassels on their thongs. — Ben Bova

In still earlier years than those I have been recalling, Holliday's Hill, in our town, was to me the noblest work of God. It appeared to pierce the skies. It was nearly three hundred feet high. In those days I pondered the subject much, but I never could understand why it did not swathe its summit with never-failing clouds, and crown its majestic brow with everlasting snows. I had heard that such was the custom of great mountains in other parts of the world. — Mark Twain

David's brow unfurled and he crouched down on the floor with his daughter. 'Did you have a fun time with your aunt Izzy?' he asked in a high squeaky voice.
Sydney stared at him blankly.
'Say good morning to Aunt Izzy.'
Sydney stared at me blankly.
'Remember me from last night?' I asked.
'Did you have fun?' Maggie asked.
'I wouldn't go that far,' I replied.
'I was actually talking to Sydney, Maggie said.
'Oh well, she'd probably agree. We had an okay time, didn't we, Sydney?'
'Why can't you talk to her like a normal person?' asked David.
'I'm the only one talking to her like a normal person. You sound like a eunuch. — Lisa Lutz

Something is wrong, very wrong, when a single person in good health, a person who in addition possesses a working car, can barely support herself by the sweat of her brow. You don't need a degree in economics to see that wages are too low and rents too high. — Barbara Ehrenreich

They may be a little more high brow than we are. — David Talbot

For, thought Ahab, while even the highest earthly felicities ever have a certain unsignifying pettiness lurking in them, but, at bottom, all heartwoes, a mystic significance, and, in some men, an archangelic grandeur; so do their diligent tracings-out not blue the obvious deduction. To trail the genealogies of these high mortal miseries, carries us at last among the sourceless primogenitures of the gods; so that, in the face of all the glad, hay-making suns, and the softcymballing, round the harvest-moons, we must needs give in to this: that the gods themselves are not for ever glad. The ineffaceable, sad birth-mark in the brow of man, is but the stamp of sorrow in the signers. — Herman Melville

Let me understand,' Omar said, his brow furrowed in concentration. 'When played with cars, people could get killed. But when played with kissing, people could get...kissed.' He mused on this for a second. 'It seems like the better option.'

'You'd think,' replied Kaitlyn. 'But if you were to survey one hundred high school boys, ninety-eight of them would tell you they'd rather die in a fiery crash than be caught kissing another guy.'

'What about the other two?'

'Statistically, they're already kissing each other — Xavier Mayne

Seeing clearly within himself and always able to dodge around the ends of any position, including his own, Shaw assumed from the start the dual role of prophet and gadfly. To his contemporaries it appeared frivolous and contradictory to perform as both superman and socialist, sceptic and believer, legalist and heretic, high-brow and mob-orator. But feeling the duty to teach as well as to mirror mankind, Shaw did not accept himself as a contradictory being. — Jacques Barzun

As soon as he stood in front of her, she folded her arms and looked cross.
"You don't have any gardening skills. You turned down a prestigious job to weed the garden?
"I will be rewarded richly in treasures untold."
She raised a brow.
"I've heard dragon-shifters pay a lot of money to merchants and the like.
"Aaagh, but you are also a dragon-shifter of a sort.
Yes, but I am a gardener, which means I don't go on high-risk missions to earn my gold. — Terry Spear

It is perfectly scientific,' Lev protests, rising to draw the heavy dining room curtains against the streetlamp light, reducing it to a glow that bleeds amber round the edges and between the panels of plum brocade. Lev turns back into the room but stays by the window a moment to observe the new play of light, the chandelier casting shards of glitter upon mahogany and bold shadows across the high brow and long sharp plains of Katya's timeless face. Oh my wife. — Emma Richler

Sitcoms are designed for normal people who just want to turn on their TV and get a laugh. It's not high-brow, you don't have to work so hard, and it's meant to be a relatable genre. That's why I love it so much - my fans are from 8 years old to 80 years old, because everybody can relate to what's funny. — Megyn Price

She eyed his gorgeous body, and raised a brow. "Doing a little flaunting of your own this morning, huh?"
"In deference to your delicate sensibilities, I pulled on jeans. Isn't that enough?"
Enough for what, her peace of mind? Ha. Being around Trace, especially with him like this, half-naked, sent her heart racing like a marathon runner's. "Maybe it would be," Priss admitted, "if you don't look so good."
The compliment sent his right eyebrow arching high.
"Oh, come on, Trace. You know what you look like." She visually devoured him again, more blatantly this time, and noticed a rise behind the fly of his jeans. For her?
Well-well-well. Flattering. — Lori Foster

Bronagh," I said. "Chill on the sofa."
"I can't, me body is currently experiencin
some technical difficulties."
With a raised brow I asked, "What does that mean?"
"It means her ass is sore and she can't sit down."
"Dominic!" my sister screeched,
horrified.
Alec high-fived his younger brother and said, "My man."
Brothers. — L.A. Casey

Imagine a person, tall, lean and feline, high-shouldered, with a brow like Shakespeare and a face like Satan, a close-shaven skull, and long, magnetic eyes of the true cat-green. Invest him with all the cruel cunning of an entire Eastern race, accumulated in one giant intellect, with all the resources of science past and present, with all the resources, if you will, of a wealthy government
which, however, already has denied all knowledge of his existence. Imagine that awful being, and you have a mental picture of Dr. Fu-Manchu, the yellow peril incarnate in one man. — Sax Rohmer

I affect no contempt for the high eminence he [Senator Stephen Douglas] has reached. So reached, that the oppressed of my species,might have shared with me in the elevation, I would rather stand on that eminence, than wear the richest crown that ever pressed a monarch's brow. — Abraham Lincoln

Brother - "
"I thought we'd already decided we weren't that, either."
Grabbing his shoulder, I stopped him before he could reach the door. "Look, I'm sorry! I'm sorry I did this to you."
He turned to look at me, his brow raised high. "You're sorry. So, what ... we go back to being cool again?"
"I don't know, man. But we can't do this."
"And why can't we? You couldn't stand to let me have one normal day with her. Have I done anything to you since she and I broke up?" He paused, but I didn't respond. "No. I haven't. You dealt with it by being an ass, so let me deal with this my way. And my way doesn't include acting like you didn't steal my girl from me."
"I didn't steal Harper!"
He opened the door and took a step outside, his shaking hand gripping the outer knob. When he looked back at me, his eyes were flat and lifeless. "You stole my entire world. — Molly McAdams

Why don't you write about the gypsies? My great people the gitanos!" Armando smirked in response as he moved her away from his computer. "You know when I was mortal, the gitanos were considered trash." Carlotta's face darkened with anger. "You high-brow Spanish aristocratic pig, whose genes are so inbred you're lucky your genitals aren't growing out of your forehead, — Rhiannon Frater

He lifted a brow. "Is it that hard for you to even try in front of me?"
"You're a High Lord - don't you have better things to do?"
"Of course. But none as enjoyable as seeing you squirm."
"You're a real bastard, you know that?"
Rhys huffed a laugh. "I've been called worse. In fact, I think you've called me worse. — Sarah J. Maas

Rhys brushed the hair from my face. "It's all part of the game, Feyre darling. Who to trust, when to trust them - what information to barter." "Do you enjoy it?" "Sometimes. Right now, I don't. Not when the risks are this high." His fingers grazed my brow. "When I have so much to lose." I — Sarah J. Maas

I've been waiting a long time to run tests on someone like you, " he said to Daemon, voice high-pitched.
Daemon arched a brow. "Another fanboy. I have them everywhere."
I muttered, "Only you would see that as a good thing."
He shot me a grin. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

My mom believed that you make your own luck. Over the stove she had hung these old, maroon painted letters that spell out, "MANIFEST." The idea being if you thought and dreamed about the way you wanted your life to be
if you just envisioned it long enough, it would come into being.
But as hard as I had manifested Astrid Heyman with her hand in mine, her blue eyes gazing into mine, her lips whispering something wild and funny and outrageous in my ear, she had remained totally unaware of my existence. Truly, to even dream of dreaming about Astrid, for a guy like me, in my relatively low position on the social ladder of Cheyenne Mountain High, was idiotic. And with her a senior and me a junior? Forget it.
Astrid was just lit up with beauty: shining blonde ringlets, June sky blue eyes, slightly furrowed brow, always biting back a smile, champion diver on the swim team. Olympic level.
Hell, Astrid was Olympic level in every possible way. — Emmy Laybourne