blurred

Much later that night, I thought the door opened and a man came into the bedroom. He was leaning on a stick. He didn't say anything but he stood there, looking sadly at Andreas and me, and as a shaft of moonlight came slanting in through the window, I recognized Atticus Pünd. I was asleep, of course, and dreaming, but I remember wondering how he had managed to enter my world before the thought occurred to me that maybe it was I who had entered his.

Growing older is a blurred birth certificate that only can take us to this world__ perplexed journey, but it cannot smear the letters of the epitaph

We live in a world where unfortunately the distinction between true and false appears to become increasingly blurred by manipulation of facts, by exploitation of uncritical minds, and by the pollution of the language.

I used to be lost in us. Blurred were the lines that separated us. But now, I see our togetherness in our separateness. I see the you in me and the me in you. We are two independent beings who complement one another like photographs that are beautiful on their own but are enhanced when juxtaposed, creating an altogether new photograph.

There's a certain line between jokes and music and poetry that's a bit blurred in my mind.

The distinction has blurred between young adult and adult books. Some of the teen books have become more sophisticated.

Love places someone else in the centre of your being and your own self is blurred.

A solid answer to everything is not necessary. Blurry concepts influence one to focus, but postulated clarity influences arrogance.