Clay Quotes - Page 8

Before we left town, Antonio pulled into a strip mall and went in to get subs and salads, leaving Clay and me half naked and bleeding in the car, and Cain unconscious in the trunk. No wonder I was anxious to get back to Toronto. Spend too much time around these guys and you become a little too nonchalent about blood-soaked clothes and bodies in the trunk

Kelley Armstrong

Blood, Clothes, Car

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Soul. The word rebounded to me, and I wondered, as I often had, what it was exactly. People talked about it all the time, but did anybody actually know? Sometimes I'd pictured it like a pilot light burning inside a person--a drop of fire from the invisible inferno people called God. Or a squashy substance, like a piece of clay or dental mold, which collected the sum of a person's experiences--a million indentations of happiness, desperation, fear, all the small piercings of beauty we've ever known.

Sue Monk Kidd

Fire, Light, People

Sue Monk Kidd (2006). “The Mermaid Chair”, p.132, Penguin

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My daddy wanted me to be a farmer; feel the smoothness of Alabama clay and become one of the first blacks in my town to own land. But, I was worried about my history being caked with that southern clay, and I subscribed to a different kind of teaching and learning in my bones and in my spirit.

John Henrik Clarke

Teaching, Land, Daddy

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I blew that clay pigeon to smithereens. I don't know why Mum got so upset. According to Uncle Andrew she's a crack shot herself. But she says I'm too young. What I'd like to know is how old does a person have to be before they get to do all the fun stuff?

R.L. LaFevers

Uncles, Fun, Upset

R. L. LaFevers (2008). “Theodosia and the Serpents of Chaos”, p.88, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

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My dear, dear Lord, The purest treasure mortal times afford Is spotless reputation; that away Men are but gilded loan or painted clay... Mine honor is my life; both grow in one; Take honor from me, and my life is done.

William Shakespeare

Men, Dear Lord, Honor

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Uh-uh. We've played this game before. I hide. You never seek. I'm a bit slow on the uptake, but I'm beginning to sense a pattern.

Kelley Armstrong

Games, Patterns, Bits

"Bitten (Women of the Otherworld, Book 1)". Book by Kelley Armstrong, October 1, 2001.

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Belief sloshes around in the firmament like lumps of clay spiralling into a potter's wheel. That's how gods get created, for example. They clearly must be created by their own believers, because a brief resume of the lives of most gods suggests that their origins certainly couldn't be divine. They tend to do exactly the things people would do if only they could, especially when it comes to nymphs, golden showers, and the smiting of your enemies.

Terry Pratchett

Nymphs, People, Enemy

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You cannot expect stone to be as pliable as clay.

Anne Bronte

Stones

Anne Bronte (2012). “Agnes Grey”, p.40, Courier Corporation

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Nobody grasped you by the shoulder while there was still time. Now the clay of which you were shaped has dried and hardened, and naught in you will ever awaken the sleeping musician, the poet, the asronomer that possibly inhabited you in the beginning.

Antoine de Saint-Exupery

Sleep, Musician, Poet

"'Terre des Hommes' ('Wind, Sand and Stars')". Book by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, translated by Lewis Galantière. Chapter I: "The Craft", 1939.

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You cannot help but learn more as take the world into your hands. Take it up reverently, for it is and old piece of clay, with millions of thumbprints on it.

John Updike

Inspirational, Graduation, Hands

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Cold hopes swarm like worms within our living clay.

Percy Bysshe Shelley

Hope, Cold, Worms

Percy Bysshe Shelley (1853). “The Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley: Complete in One Volume”, p.575

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I will make love my greatest weapon and none on whom I call can defend against its force.
My reasoning they may counter; my speech they may distrust; my apparel they may disapprove; my face they may reject; and even my bargains may cause them suspicion; yet my love will melt all hearts liken to the sun whose rays soften the coldest clay.
I will greet this day with love in my heart.

Og Mandino

Life, Heart, Making Love

"The Greatest Salesman in the World". Book by Og Mandino. Chapter 9: "The Scroll Marked II," p. 58, 1968.

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True Love in this differs from gold and clay,
That to divide is not to take away.
Love is like understanding, that grows bright,
Gazing on many truths; 'tis like thy light,
Imagination! which from earth and sky,
And from the depths of human phantasy,
As from a thousand prisms and mirrors, fills
The Universe with glorious beams, and kills
Error, the worm, with many a sun-like arrow
Of its reverberated lightning.

Percy Bysshe Shelley

Life, Love Is, Arrows

Percy Bysshe Shelley (1840). “The Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley”, p.282

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Clay lies still, but blood's a rover;
Breath's aware that will not keep.
Up, lad: when the journey's over then there'll be time enough to sleep.

A. E. Housman

Time, Travel, Lying

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So says the most ancient book of the Earth; thus it is written on its leaves of marble, lime, sand, slate, and clay: ... that our Earth has fashioned itself, from its chaos of substances and powers, through the animating warmth of the creative spirit, to a peculiar and original whole, by a series of preparatory revolutions, till at last the crown of its creation, the exquisite and tender creature man, was enabled to appear.

Johann Gottfried Herder

Book, Science, Men

Johann Gottfried Herder (1800). “Outlines of a Philosophy of the History of Man”, p.259

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Yet some can be patriotic who have no self-respect, and sacrifice the greater to the less. They love the soil which makes their graves, but have no sympathy with the spirit which may still animate their clay. Patriotism is a maggot in their heads.

Henry David Thoreau

Love, Sympathy, Patriotic

Henry David Thoreau (2016). “Walden”, p.228, Xist Publishing

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Love is the only bow on Life's dark cloud. It is the Morning and the Evening Star. It shines upon the cradle of the babe, and sheds its radiance on the quiet tomb. It is the mother of Art—inspirer of poet, patriot, and philosopher. It is the air and light of every heart— builder of every home—kindler of every fire on every hearth. It was the first to dream of immortality. It fills the world with melody, for Music is the voice of Love.

Robert Green Ingersoll

Love, Mother, Dream

"Lectures and Essays (a Selection)".

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Yet, O thou beautiful rose!
Queen rose so fair and sweet.
What were lover or crown to thee,
without the clay at thy feet?

Julia Caroline Dorr

Beautiful, Sweet, Queens

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We've the new hard-steel, though why they're all so hot to pay twice the price when men're soft as clay and even wood will pierce the boldest belly, I can't say.

Janet Morris

Nature, War, Men

Janet Morris (2011). “Tempus with His Right-Side Companion Niko”, p.187, Paradise Publishing

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Jeremy had a plan for getting Clay back and I wasn't allowed to know anything about it or allowed to help him carry it out. As one might expect, I accepted this news with grace and understanding. "That is the stupidest idea I've ever heard!" I snarled for the dozenth time that hour. "I won't just sit here and do nothing.

Kelley Armstrong

Ideas, Grace, Understanding

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People talk about medium. What is your medium? My medium as a writer has been dirt, clay, sand--what I could touch, hold, stand on, and stand for--Earth. My medium has been Earth. Earth in correspondence with my mind.

Terry Tempest Williams

People, Mind, Earth

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A shade of sorrow passed over Taliesin's face. 'There are those,' he said gently, 'who must first learn loss, despair, and grief. Of all paths to wisdom, this is the cruelest and longest. Are you one who must follow such a way? This even I cannot know. If you are, take heart nonetheless. Those who reach the end do more than gain wisdom. As rough wool becomes cloth, and crude clay a vessel, so do they change and fashion wisdom for others, and what they give back is greater than what they won.

Lloyd Alexander

Fashion, Grief, Heart

Lloyd Alexander (2014). “The High King: The Chronicles of Prydain”, p.81, Usborne Publishing Ltd

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In a way, her strangeness, her naiveté, her craving for the other half of her equation was the consequence of an idle imagination. Had she paints, or clay, or knew the discipline of the dance, or strings, had she anything to engage her tremendous curiosity and her gift for metaphor, she might have exchanged the restlessness and preoccupation with whim for an activity that provided her with all she yearned for. And like an artist with no art form, she became dangerous.

Toni Morrison

Art, Discipline, Imagination

Sula (1973)

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Long ago I yearned to be a hero without knowing, in truth, what a hero was. Now, perhaps, I understand it a little better. A grower of turnips or a shaper of clay, a Commot farmer or a king--every man is a hero if he strives more for others than for himself alone. Once you told me that the seeking counts more than the finding. So, too, must the striving count more than the gain.

Lloyd Alexander

Kings, Hero, Men

Lloyd Alexander (2014). “The High King: The Chronicles of Prydain”, p.160, Usborne Publishing Ltd

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Creative work is more accurately a machine that digs down and finds stuff, emotional stuff that will someday be raw material that can be used to produce more stuff, stuff like itself - clay to be available for future use.

David Byrne

Emotional, Creative, Raw Materials

David Byrne (2010). “Bicycle Diaries”, p.192, Faber & Faber

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