Woods Quotes - Page 38

As she watched him she understood the quality of his beauty. How his labor had shaped him. How the wood he fashioned had fashioned him. Each plank he planed, each nail he drove, each thing he made molded him. Had left its stamp on him. Had given him his strength, his supple grace.

Arundhati Roy

Grace, Quality, Nails

Arundhati Roy (2002). “The God of Small Things”, p.334, Penguin Books India

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How could he convey to someone who'd never even met her the way she always smelled like rain, or how his stomach knotted up every time he saw her shake loose her hair from its braid? How could he describe how it felt when she finished his sentences, turnec the mug they were sharing so that her mouth landed where his had been? How did he explain the way they could be in a locker room, or underwater, or in the piney woods of Maine, bus as long as Em was with him, he was at home?

Jodi Picoult

Rain, Home, Hair

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I was walking through the woods, thinking about Christ. If He was a carpenter, I wondered what He charged for bookshelves.

Woody Allen

Thinking, Christ, Love And Death

"Fictional character: Boris". "Love and Death", www.imdb.com. 1975.

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No varnish can hide the grain of the wood; and that the more varnish you put on, the more the grain will express itself.

Charles Dickens

Expectations, Grain, True Gentleman

Charles Dickens (1861). “Great Expectations”, p.248

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Don't be led away by those howls about realism. Remember-pine woods are just as real as pigsties and a darn sight pleasanter to be in.

Lucy Maud Montgomery

Real, Sight, Remember

Lucy Maud Montgomery (2016). “The Collected Works of Lucy Maud Montgomery: 20 Novels & 170+ Short Stories, Poems, Letters and Memoirs (Including The Complete Anne Shirley Series, Chronicles of Avonlea & Emily Starr Trilogy): Anne of Green Gables, Anne of Avonlea, Anne of Windy Poplars, Rainbow Valley, Rilla of Ingleside, Emily of New Moon, The Story Girl, The Golden Road, Pat of Silver Bush, The Blue Castle & many more”, p.2325, e-artnow

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All I'd ever wanted was to forget. but even when I thought I had, pieces had kept emerging, like bits of wood floating up to the surface that only hint at the shipwreck below.

Sarah Dessen

Moving On, Break Up, Stay Strong

Sarah Dessen (2006). “Just Listen: A Novel”, Viking Childrens Books

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So light a fire!" Harry choked. "Yes...of course...but there's no wood!" ... "HAVE YOU GONE MAD!" Ron bellowed. "ARE YOU A WITCH OR NOT!

J. K. Rowling

Light, Fire, Mad

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Quickly, the dragon came at him, encouraged As Beowulf fell back; its breath flared, And he suffered, wrapped around in swirling Flames -- a king, before, but now A beaten warrior. None of his comrades Came to him, helped him, his brave and noble Followers; they ran for their lives, fled Deep in a wood. And only one of them Remained, stood there, miserable, remembering, As a good man must, what kinship should mean.

Burton Raffel

Kings, Mean, Warrior

Burton Raffel, Robert Payson Creed (1963). “Beowulf: A New Translation with an Introduction”

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Instead of finding himself in nerd heaven—where every nerd gets fifty-eight virgins to role-play with—he woke up in Robert Wood Johnson with two broken legs and a separated shoulder, feeling like, well, he'd jumped off the New Brunswick train bridge.

Junot Diaz

Eight, Bridges, Play

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You could be the Mega Mage of wizards. You could rule Minionfire. Do you really think so?' Yeah, but you'd have to make a deal with the wood elves.' I don't like the wood elves.' They're okay. They're misunderstood.

Janet Evanovich

Thinking, Misunderstood, Wizards

Janet Evanovich (2008). “Fearless Fourteen: A Stephanie Plum Novel”, p.126, Macmillan

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Half way down, he encountered Saphira, who had jammed her head and neck as far up the stair as she could, gouging the wood in her frenzy. Little one. She flicked out her tongue and caught him on the hand with its rough tip. He smiled. Then she arched her neck and tried to pull back, but to no avail. What's wrong? I'm stuck. You're... He could not help it;he laughed even though it hurt. The situation was too absurd.

Christopher Paolini

Hurt, Hands, Half

Christopher Paolini (2014). “The Inheritance Cycle Complete Collection: Eragon, Eldest, Brisingr, Inheritance”, p.1007, Knopf Books for Young Readers

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A daughter of a King of Ireland, heard A voice singing on a May Eve like this, And followed half awake and half asleep, Until she came into the Land of Faery, Where nobody gets old and godly and grave, Where nobody gets old and crafty and wise, Where nobody gets old and bitter of tongue. And she is still there, busied with a dance Deep in the dewy shadow of a wood, Or where stars walk upon a mountain-top.

William Butler Yeats

Wise, Daughter, Kings

William Butler Yeats (1814). “The Land of Heart's Desire”, p.12

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May you always see a blue sky overhead, my young friend; and then, even when the time comes, as it has come for me now, when the woods are black, when night is fast falling, you will be able to console yourself, as I do, by looking up at the sky.

Marcel Proust

Fall, Night, Young Friends

Marcel Proust (2015). “Swann's Way”, p.130, Vintage

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Sometimes people leave you halfway through the wood. Others may decieve you - you decide what's good. You decide alone, but no one is alone. People make mistakes. Fathers, mothers, people make mistakes, holding to their own, thinking they're alone. Honor their mistakes. Fight for their mistakes. Witches can be right. Giants can be good. You decide what's right. You decide what's good.

Stephen Sondheim

Mother, Father, Mistake

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In the construction of houses, choice of woods is made. Straight un-knotted timber of good appearance is used for the revealed pillars, straight timber with small defects is used for the inner pillars. Timbers of the finest appearance, even if a little weak, is used for the thresholds, lintels, doors, and sliding doors, and so on. Good strong timber, though it be gnarled and knotted, can always be used discreetly in construction.

Miyamoto Musashi

Strong, Doors, Choices

Miyamoto Musashi (2013). “The Book of Five Rings: A Text on Kenjutsu and the Martial Arts in General, Written by the Swordsman Miyamoto Musashi”, p.25, Lulu Press, Inc

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Out of the closets and into the museums, libraries, architectural monuments, concert halls, bookstores, recording studios and film studios of the world. Everything belongs to the inspired and dedicated thief…. Words, colors, light, sounds, stone, wood, bronze belong to the living artist. They belong to anyone who can use them. Loot the Louvre! A bas l’originalité, the sterile and assertive ego that imprisons us as it creates. Vive le vol-pure, shameless, total. We are not responsible. Steal anything in sight.

William S. Burroughs

Artist, Color, Museums

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Here and there one sees the blush of wild rose haws or the warmth of orange fruit on the bittersweet, and back in the woods is the occasional twinkle of partridgeberries. But they are the gem stones, the rare decorations which make the grays, the browns and the greens seem even more quiet, more completely at rest.

Hal Borland

Wild Roses, Orange, Here And There

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The visible world is a daily miracle for those who have eyes and ears; and I still warm hands thankfully at the old fire, though every year it is fed with the dry wood of more old memories.

Edith Wharton

Memories, Eye, Fire

Edith Wharton (1990). “Novellas and Other Writings”, Library of America

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Sink me! Your taylors have betrayed you! T'wood serve you better to send THEM to Madam Guillotine

Baroness Orczy

Betrayed, Guillotine

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He stood staring into the wood for a minute, then said: "What is it about the English countryside — why is the beauty so much more than visual? Why does it touch one so?" He sounded faintly sad. Perhaps he finds beauty saddening — I do myself sometimes. Once when I was quite little I asked father why this was and he explained that it was due to our knowledge of beauty's evanescence, which reminds us that we ourselves shall die. Then he said I was probably too young to understand him; but I understood perfectly.

Dodie Smith

Father, Doe, Littles

Dodie Smith, Frances Hodgson Burnett (2012). “Stop What You’re Doing and Read…To Your Daughter: I Capture the Castle & The Secret Garden”, p.123, Random House

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We're a lukewarm people for all our feast days and hard work. Not much touches us, but we long to be touched. We lie awake at night willing the darkness to part and show us a vision. Our children frighten us in their intimacy, but we make sure they grow up like us. Lukewarm like us. On a night like this, hands and faces hot, we can believe that tomorrow will show us angels in jars and that the well-known woods will suddenly reveal another path.

Jeanette Winterson

Growing Up, Children, Lying

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Though men in the mass forget the origins of their need, they still bring wolfhounds into city apartments, where dog and man both sit brooding in wistful discomfort. The magic that gleams an instant between Argos and Odysseus is both the recognition of diversity and the need for affection across the illusions of form. It is nature's cry to homeless, far-wandering, insatiable man: "Do not forget your brethren, nor the green wood from which you sprang. To do so is to invite disaster.

Loren Eiseley

Dog, Men, Cities

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Perforation! Shout it out! The deliberate punctuated weakening of paper and cardboard so that it will tear along an intended path, leaving a row of fine-haired pills or tuftlets on each new edge! It is a staggering conception, showing an age-transforming feel for the unique properties of pulped wood fiber.

Nicholson Baker

Unique, Leaving, Tears

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...but you are too much for them: the weak in courage are strong in cunning; and one by one, you have absorbed and have captured and dishonored, and have distilled of your deliverers the most ruinous of all poisons; people hear Beethoven in concert halls, or over a bridge game, or to relax; Cézannes are hung on walls, reproduced, in natural wood frames; van Gogh is the man who cut off his ear and whose yellows became recently popular in window decoration.

James Agee

Strong, Wall, Cutting

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Beyond the Wild Wood comes the wild world,"said the Rat."And that's something that doesn't matter, either to you or to me. I've never been there, and I'm never going' nor you either, if you've got any sense at all.

Kenneth Grahame

Wild World, Rats, Matter

Kenneth Grahame (2008). “The wind in the willows”

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