Stones Quotes - Page 39

• Books lie, he said. God dont lie. No, said the judge. He does not. And these are his words. He held up a chunk of rock. He speaks in stones and trees, the bones of things. The squatters in their rags nodded among themselves and were soon reckoning him correct, this man of learning, in all his speculations, and this the judge encouraged until they were right proselytes of the new order whereupon he laughed at them for fools.

  Cormac McCarthy

  Lying, Book, Men

  Cormac McCarthy (2010). “Blood Meridian: Or the Evening Redness in the West”, p.122, Vintage

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• If only my heart were stone.

  Cormac McCarthy

  Heart, My Heart, Ifs

  Cormac McCarthy (2010). “The Road”, p.10, Pan Macmillan

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• The most terrible thing about it is not that it breaks one’s heart—hearts are made to be broken—but that it turns one’s heart to stone.

  Oscar Wilde

  Heart, Broken, Break

  Oscar Wilde, Russell Jackson, Ian Small (2000). “The Complete Works of Oscar Wilde: De profundis, "Epistola : in carcere et vinculis"”, p.108, Oxford University Press on Demand

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• She sat in her room on the couch my parents had given up on and worked on hardening herself. Take deep breaths and hold them. Try to stay still for longer and longer periods of time. Make yourself small and like a stone. Curl the edges of yourself up and fold them under where no one can see. ~pg 29, Susie's sister Lindsey dealing with grief.

  Alice Sebold

  Grief, Parent, Trying

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• Picture a tall, dark figure, surrounded by cornfields... NO, YOU CAN'T RIDE A CAT. WHO EVER HEARD OF THE DEATH OF RATS RIDING A CAT? THE DEATH OF RATS WOULD RIDE SOME KIND OF DOG. Picture more fields, a great horizon-spanning network of fields, rolling in gentle waves... DON'T ASK ME I DON'T KNOW. SOME KIND OF TERRIER, MAYBE. ...fields of corn, alive, whispering in the breeze... RIGHT, AND THE DEATH OF FLEAS CAN RIDE IT TOO. THAT WAY YOU KILL TWO BIRDS WITH ONE STONE. ...awaiting the clockwork of the seasons. METAPHORICALLY.

  Terry Pratchett

  Dog, Cat, Dark

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• She might have melted a heart of stone, but nothing can melt a heart of wood.

  Victor Hugo

  Heart, Might, Woods

  Victor Hugo (1980). “Les misérables”, Viking Pr

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• Although love could grow in times of peace, it tempered in battle. Daddy told me once - when I'd said something about how perfect his relationship with Mom was - that I should have seen the first five years of their marriage, that they'd fought like hellions, crashed into each other like two giant stones. That eventually they'd eroded each other into the perfect fit, become a single wall, nestled into each other's curves and hollows, her strengths chinking his weaknesses, her weaknesses reinforced by his strengths.

  Karen Marie Moning

  Mom, Wall, Two

  FaceBook post by Karen Marie Moning from Apr 23, 2015

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• All Creatures know that some must die That all the rest may take and eat; Sooner or later, all transform Their blood to wine, their flesh to meat. But Man alone seeks Vengefulness, And writes his abstract Laws on stone; For this false Justice he has made, He tortures limb and crushes bone. Is this the image of a god? My tooth for yours, your eye for mine? Oh, if Revenge did move the stars Instead of Love, they would not shine.

  Margaret Atwood

  Crush, Stars, Revenge

  Margaret Atwood (2009). “The Year of the Flood”, p.423, Anchor

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• He hated the men floating in sleep in the big stone houses. Because their lives were ordered and their rooms tidy. Because they got up every morning and did their public work. Because they weren't going to dynamite their factories and have naked parties in the fire.

  Leonard Cohen

  Morning, Party, Sleep

  Leonard Cohen (2011). “The Favourite Game”, p.75, Emblem Editions

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• Sidonie, I know you don't remember it, but you once promised to trust me beyond all reason. And I swear to you that all that I am, all that I possess, including this gem-stone, is yours. I need you. I can't do this alone. Forget your memories. Look into your heart. And if you can find somewhere there, some lingering spark of trust that owes naught to reason, I beg you to speak the word written here.

  Jacqueline Carey

  Memories, Heart, Needs

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• Think of the sound you make when you let go after holding your breath for a very, very long time. Think of the gladdest sound you know: the sound of dawn on the first day of spring break, the sound of a bottle of Coke opening, the sound of a crowd cheering in your ears because you're coming down to the last part of a race--and you're ahead. Think of the sound of water over stones in a cold stream, and the sound of wind through green trees on a late May afternoon in Central Park. Think of the sound of a bus coming into the station carrying someone you love. Then put all those together.

  Gary D. Schmidt

  Letting Go, Cheer, Spring

  Gary D. Schmidt (2009). “The Wednesday Wars”, p.235, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

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• The road and the tale have both been long, would you not say so? The trip has been long and the cost has been high... but no great thing was ever attained easily. A long tale, like a tall Tower, must be built a stone at a time.

  Stephen King

  Long, Towers, Cost

  FaceBook post by Stephen King from Dec 04, 2013

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• When I can feel you breathing into me i, like a stone gargoyle atop some crumbling building, spring to life a resuscitated angel.

  Saul Williams

  Spring, Angel, Breathing

  Saul Williams (2009). “, said the shotgun to the head.”, p.35, Simon and Schuster

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• You pile of stones, you waste, you desolation, I'll stuff you with misery till it comes out of your eyes. I'll change your heart into green grass, and all you love into a sheep. I'll turn you into a bad poet with dreams.

  Peter S. Beagle

  Dream, Heart, Eye

  Peter S. Beagle (1968). “The Last Unicorn”, Roc

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• Afterward, Isabel drove me home and I shut myself in the study with Rilke, and I read and I wanted. And leaving you (there arent words to untangle it) Your life, fearful and immense and blossoming, So that, sometimes frustrated, and sometimes understanding Your life is sometimes a stone in you, and then, a star I was beginning to undertand poetry.

  Maggie Stiefvater

  Stars, Home, Understanding

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• When the Dark comes rising six shall turn it back; Three from the circle, three from the track; Wood, bronze, iron; Water, fire, stone; Five will return and one go alone. Iron for the birthday; bronze carried long; Wood from the burning; stone out of song; Fire in the candle ring; water from the thaw; Six signs the circle and the grail gone before. Fire on the mountain shall find the harp of gold Played to wake the sleepers, oldest of old. Power from the Green Witch, lost beneath the sea. All shall find the Light at last, silver on the tree.

  Susan Cooper

  Song, Dark, Sea

  Susan Cooper (2007). “The Dark Is Rising: Movie Tie-in Edition”, p.224, Simon and Schuster

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• Yes, it was too late, and Sabina knew she would leave Paris, move on, and on again, because were she to die here they would cover her up with a stone, and in the mind of a woman for whom no place is home the thought of an end to all flight is unbearable.

  Milan Kundera

  Moving, Home, Paris

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• Shadowfax tossed his head and cried aloud, as if a trumpet had summoned him to battle. Then he sprang forward. Fire flew from his feet; night rushed over him. As he fell slowly into sleep, Pippin had a strange feeling: he and Gandalf were still as stone, seated upon the statue of a running horse, while the world rolled away beneath his feet with a great noise of wind.

  J. R. R. Tolkien

  Running, Horse, Sleep

  J.R.R. Tolkien (2012). “The Lord of the Rings: One Volume”, p.411, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

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• Water and stone Flesh and bone Night and morn Rose and thorn Tree and wind Heart and mind

  Juliet Marillier

  Heart, Night, Wind

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• However, while being able to think about two things at the same time is a terribly convenient, the training it takes to get there is frustrating at best, and at other times rather disturbing. I remember one time I looked for the stone for almost an hour before I consented to ask the other half of me where I'd hidden it, only to find I hadn't hidden the stone at all. I had merely been waiting to see how long I would look before giving up. Have you ever been annoyed and amused with yourself at the same time? It's an interesting feeling, to say the very least.

  Patrick Rothfuss

  Giving Up, Thinking, Two

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• Anytime you feel love for anything, be it stone, tree, lover, or child, you are touched by the Goddess's magick.

  Cate Tiernan

  Children, Tree, Lovers

  Cate Tiernan (2007). “Book of Shadows: Book One”, p.102, Penguin

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• All our land was enriched with my treasures buried in it, thickly inhabited just below the surface with my marbles and my teeth and my colored stones, all perhaps turned to jewels by now, held together under the ground in a powerful taut web which never loosened, but held fast to guard us.

  Shirley Jackson

  Powerful, Jewels, Land

  Shirley Jackson (2010). “Novels and Stories: The Lottery, The Haunting of Hill House, We Have Always Lived in the Castle, Other Stories and Sketches”

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• I tried to visualize my jealousy as a yellowy-brown cloud boiling around inside me, then going out through my nose like smoke and turning into a stone and falling down into the ground. That did work a little. But in my visualization a plant covered with poison berries would grow out of the stone, whether I wanted it to or not.

  Margaret Atwood

  Fall, Clouds, Poison

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• Be nobody's darling; Be an outcast. Take the contradictions Of your life And wrap around You like a shawl, To parry stones To keep you warm. Watch the people succumb To madness With ample cheer; Let them look askance at you And you askance reply. Be an outcast; Be pleased to walk alone (Uncool) Or line the crowded River beds With other impetuous Fools. Make a merry gathering On the bank Where thousands perished For brave hurt words They said. Be nobody's darling; Be an outcast. Qualified to live Among your dead.

  Alice Walker

  Hurt, Cheer, Rivers

  Alice Walker (2011). “Alice Walker: Collected Poems: Her Blue Body Everything We Know: Earthling Poems 1965-1990”, p.115, Hachette UK

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• but as he plodded along a vague and almost hallucinatory pall hazed over his mind; he found himself at one point, with no notion of how it could be, a step from an almost certain fatal cliffside fall—falling humiliatingly and helplessly, he thought; on and on, with no one even to witness it. Here there existed no one to record his or anyone else's degradation, and any courage or pride which might manifest itself here at the end would go unmarked: the dead stones, the dust-stricken weeds dry and dying, perceived nothing, recollected nothing, about him or themselves.

  Philip K. Dick

  Weed, Fall, Pride

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