Quotes About Fireplace

Why do you have a picture of my mentor, Siri, on the shelf above your fireplace? - Evaline. ... That's not your mentor... That's my mother, Desiree. - Mina

She stood by the fireplace talking, in that beautiful voice which made everything she said sound like a caress, to Papa, who had begun to be attracted rather against his will (he never got over lending her one of his books and finding it soaked on the terrace), when suddenly she said, 'What a shame to sit indoors!' and they all went out on to the terrace and walked up and down.

She stood by the fireplace talking in that beautiful voice which made everything she said sound like a caress.

Revenant shrugged in his black leather duster… He plopped down in the overstuffed chair by the fire. "That's my seat," Azagoth said. "Move." "Whatever, Sheldon.

the design actually makes him look more like a fireplace elf. Bob

DOMBEY sat in the corner of the darkened room in the great armchair by the bedside, and Son lay tucked up warm in a little basket bedstead, carefully disposed on a low settee immediately in front of the fire and close to it, as if his constitution were analogous to that of a muffin, and it was essential to toast him brown while he was very new.

Occasionally, the smoke came rolling down the chimney as though it could not bear to go out into such a night;

in a winter fireplace burns the fantasy of spring — wildflowers flaming across a lush wooded landscape

Thomas was in his usual spot near the fireplace. With his wrinkled clothes and weary demeanor, he looked like a recently fired executive in the middle of a drinking binge.

throughout the open space, and a two-story fireplace. The bedrooms all have mountain vistas, and the patio has a multimillion-dollar view of a great, green, tree-studded lawn. Edmund Washburn, a big teddy bear of a man, had fired up the

Whenever it gets a little cold in L.A., it gives me an excuse to light my fireplace. You could stare at that joint for, like, a cool two hours. It's entrancing.

There's an arched bridge that spans one of the narrow spots, and since it's Christmas, it's been decorated with garlands of evergreens and a big wreath with a red bow. There are Victorian gas lamps lining the pathways, and in the middle of the lake is a small island where a hut with a fireplace offers skaters a chance to warm themselves and drink hot chocolate.

The cabin was like a production designer's idea of a mountain retreat. All that was missing was an elk's head mounted on the stone fireplace.

The balcony encircled the entire room and provided access to two levels of towering carved oak bookshelves. A huge domed ceiling loomed above her, featuring an eighteenth-century Italian fresco. A large weather-beaten Coleman tent had been set up in front of a massive stone fireplace.

Come on, he said. Bring the poker. I brought the tongs as well. I felt like it.

Low-ceilinged and smoke-foxed, it had a curious smell: part beer, part cold fireplace ash, part pipe tobacco.

I can't begin to imagine the shock of having a body fall out of the fireplace. And your aunt's fireplace, at that. She was a vegan, for heaven's sake. She killed him, Mom. She didn't eat him.

Like the temperature of a fireplace, everything on earth is dependent on the temperature.

The fireplace is a very interesting feature in the room. It is easy to see that life in the last century centered largely round the hearth, where great events were enacted. The copper gilt grate is a marvel of workmanship, and the mantelpiece is most delicately finished; the fire-irons are beautifully chased; the bellows are a perfect gem.

As I sit here writing to you, I have propped my stocking feet much too close to the hearth. I've actually singed my stockings on occasion, and once I had to stomp out my feet when they started smoking. Even after that I can't seem to rid myself of the habit. There, now you could pick me out of a crowd blindfolded. Simply follow the scent of scorched stockings.

log fire, enjoying tea and crumpets

Snowflakes swirl down gently in the deep blue haze beyond the window. The outside world is a dream. Inside, the fireplace is brightly lit, and the Yule log crackles with orange and crimson sparks. There's a steaming mug in your hands, warming your fingers. There's a friend seated across from you in the cozy chair, warming your heart. There is mystery unfolding.

One afternoon, when I was four years old, my father came home, and he found me in the living room in front of a roaring fire, which made him very angry. Because we didn't have a fireplace.

There were shadows galore in the dim light, but there was one shadow that did not correspond to any object in the room. It lurked next to the fireplace, a formless, undulating darkness.