Quotes About Mansion

One of the aims of Tantra is to recognize the divine perfection of the world by seeing it as a mandala "a celestial mansion.

At three in the morning it was dead around here and the windows of the mansion were black, the mansion dark purple and solemn against the moonlit velvet, green of gently sloping lawn.

...Since in the centre of the soul there is a mansion reserved for God Himself...

No one's here this time of year except caretakers: often alcoholic friends of the family who can't handle society, who hide and take care of mansions and animals. He

He was sternly forbid to pitch his tents in a pleasant valley, lest he should infringe the distant awe that was due to the royal mansion.

I do remember with great pleasure, if not terribly clearly, a play by Richard Foreman with music by Stanley Silverman called Hotel For Criminals, which I saw in a sinisterly suitable mansion in the cultured wilds of western Massachusetts in the summer of 1974, and which could be described as based loosely on Fantomas.

but he'd managed to get his hands on a big estate

Her mind was only a lonely mansion for the stories of extinction.

I watched 'Holiday' in college, and that was when I had my first fantasy of being Katharine Hepburn, standing at the top of the staircase in a huge Hollywood mansion.

When I was 12 years old, I went to France for a long-awaited summer program. A month in an idyllic castle surrounded by sports and fun activities turned out to be a miserable week in a decrepit mansion with a crazy couple who owned and ran the place and often had screaming matches and food fights in front of the kids.

Once I saw Desjardins' house, I hated him even more. It was a huge mansion on the other side of the Tuileries, on the rue des Pyramids. "Pyramids Road?" Sadie said. "Obvious, much?" "Maybe he couldn't find a place on Stupid Evil Magician Street," I suggested.

an enormous stately home. Mr Spud named it 'Freshbum Towers'.

David Walliams

Jane circled the mansion, passing door after door, all too la-di-da for comfort.

I was faintly aware of the changing light. A shining, shimmering glow seemed to cover the scaffolding and the woods, the P&E barn, and the white tents that caught the fleeting bits of sun. All that was left of the mansion was stone and ash, but my home was there. Forever.

We have entered the cell, the Mansion of our birth, and started the inventory of our acquired wealth.

I was 34 years old, and I knew that I wanted a possibility of having a family one day, but I wasn't dating anyone obviously because I'm living at the mansion. But I just wanted to make sure I had the possibility, so I froze my eggs back then and that was my insurance policy for later on in life.

IT'S WEIRD starting over from zero. It changes the scale of your ambitions. Instead of fantasizing about what kind of mansion you'll buy when you win the lottery, you ask yourself, Do I own socks? Do I have a toothbrush? Do I have a shirt that's not covered in blood?

I ride the Hog up winding roads into the hinterlands of Benedict Canyon to a Gothic-style mansion right out of a thirties Universal horror movie. Dr. Frankenstein's summer home, or where a friendly neighbor chains up Lyle Talbot during the full moon. Even the name Lisa Thivierge is living under—Janet Lawton—is a gag: the name of the ingenue in the old Ed Wood movie Bride of the Monster. I like Thivierge already.

And I wish whoever chooses the spots for these ceremonies could quit the Bela Lugosi bullshit. It's always a crypt. It's always a cemetery or a spooky old mansion where a family was murdered by a serial killer or angry Girl Scouts when they didn't buy enough cookies.

We follow Daja to a Hellion motor home. It looks less like something your grandparents would drive to the Grand Canyon and more like a Gothic mansion on wheels—one designed by insects and decorated by something with more tentacles than taste. Hellion chic. Daja opens the door and we go in.

Afghanistan is like a beautiful mansion littered with garbage, and someone has to take out the garbage. That's what you were doing in Mazar, going door-to-door? Taking out the garbage? - Precisely. In the west, they have an expression for that. They call it ethnic cleansing. - Do they? Ethnic cleansing. I like it. I like the sound of it.

Peter," she whispered. "I don't suppose this place has a bedroom." He laughed softly in her ear. "Twelve of them, actually. Which one do you want to use?" She laughed back and bit his neck teasingly. "How about all of them? You just pick where we'll start.

the rest of the clan, building a mansion at 1 West Fifty-Seventh Street that would become the largest private home in the history of Manhattan.