Quotes About Stalks

It is deep January. The sky is hard. The stalks are firmly rooted in ice. It is in this solitude, a syllable, Out of these gawky flitterings, Intones its single emptiness, The savagest hollow of winter-sound.

The plants filled the place, a forest of them, with nasty meaty leaves and stalks like the newly washed fingers of dead men. They smelled as overpowering as boiling alcohol under a blanket.

The stinging nettles that we must have got into are more insignificant plants, with a paler purple flower, and stalks wickedly outfitted with fine, fierce, skin-piercing and inflaming spines. Those would be present too, unnoticed, in all the flourishing of the waste meadow.

The wolf stalks him anyway, this accidental discovery, this pale-eyed, scar-faced child who was not a child, two thousand years gone by when the wolf loved him.

The fullness ends when we give Nature her ransom, when we make children for her. Then she is through with us, and we become, first inside, and then outside, junk. Flower stalks.

Her pace quickened when a small patch of sunflowers came into view. Dozens of tall stalks topped with heavy golden flower heads swayed in the hot breeze. From a distance they looked like a group of ladies with their heads hung low, as if embarrassed that they'd arrived at a party wearing identical hats.

place in him where memory remained, like a patch of soil the tractor has missed, where a few dry stalks of last summer's crops still stand in their withered rows, the soil not turned over.

Are you crazy, Gideon?" His mouth thinned. "Is that a serious question?" "Yes. Yes, it is. My mom stalks me, too, and she sees a shrink. Do you have a shrink?" "Not presently, but you're driving me crazy enough to make that a possibility.

Celery leaves are an underused ingredient, most likely because supermarkets sell mostly leafless stalks.

Evil is not an abstract concept. It lives. It has a form. It stalks. It is too real.

Her fingers are as long as flower stalks, her limbs as spindly as sticks of birch. Weed-like strands of black straight hair hang over her mushroom-pale face, half-hiding tiny eyes that gleam with malice.

The Ogre does what Ogres can, Deeds quite impossible for Man. But one prize is beyond his reach, The Ogre cannot master Speech: About a subjugated plain, Among its desperate and slain, The Ogre stalks with hands on hips, While drivel gushes from his lips.

The sky had cleared, and now the sun was overhead, already baking the wet ground so that you could see the humidity drifting lazily above the cotton stalks.

I was on the verge of tears, so I turned and ran past the trailer and along the field road until I was safely out of their sight. Then I ducked into the cotton and waited for friendly voices. I sat on the hot ground, surrounded by stalks four feet tall, and I cried, something I really hated to do.

The fullness ends when we give Nature her ransom, when we make children for her. Then she is through with us, and we become, first inside, and then outside, junk. Flower stalks.

Ripe strawberries hung from the little plants, row after row. They gleamed like baubles, bright and red among the leaves, weighing down their stalks.

And the quiet of the house is also the quiet of stalks and vines that no longer jangle at any touch of of wind, or bird, or person passing, but which have been laced and bound into new patterns and have been now given new stories to tell. Stories that lace and bind the earthly matters to matters not of earth.