Quotes About Glass

Lars swirled the tasting glass... an instant memory of an autumnal day... It felt like a childhood memory, but probably wasn't. More likely a memory he'd borrowed from a book or movie.

She reached for the glass, realized it was smudged. More pointless revulsion.

They would not, however, have eaten him: such forms of Anti-life commonly subsist on venom, acid, poison, excrement, ground glass, and less mentionable substances.]

He took a sip from his own water glass.

Why would I not know the context?" He took a single swallow from his glass. "I am the context." He put the glass on the counter, and left. I'm certain of it: that moment, that hard swallow, is when he decided.

In really nice weather I have to lie down like a complaint or a huge glass bottle in the field.

for Michael but found herself picking up her glass and taking a large slug, her psyche telling her to pour something numbing over the hot ashes of jealousy smouldering inside her.

My love of books - not just of their tactile pleasures but of their astonishing variety - was born in a book-filled house; my father is a scholar.

In short, it is Detective Anderson. He looks up and sees me through the glass, and he smiles. It is not a smile that encourages in me any of the finer feelings. It is instead a smile that says to me, quite clearly, it is time for all Hope to die. Hope obliges.

But car windows are made of safety glass. They do not shatter into shards. They explode into a pile of small pebbles, and it would take a great deal of ingenuity to use them to kill Doakes, unless I could persuade him to eat them. That didn't seem likely, so with a philosophical shrug, I stopped cranking the window and returned the good sergeant's stare. "Was there something else?" I asked politely. Sergeant

Tulip's nose pressed up against a

Until he started watching The Walking Dead. Yeah, AMC. Thanks for that. He keeps telling me that I'd enjoy the show, but judging from all the screaming, shooting, and breaking glass I hear from my office every

Elvis! Min shoved herself off the couch to shoo him away. Stay away from there. There's broken glass. He did that on purpose, David said, outraged. Yes, David, the cat is plotting against you. Min fished the base out of the water and glass shards and put it on the table. Then she went to get her wastebasket and began to put the glass pieces in it.

Like every big organisation these days, the BBC is obsessed with the wellbeing of those who set foot on its premises. Studios must display warning notices if there is real glass on the set, and the other day I was presented with a booklet explaining how to use a door. I am not kidding.

And you have to remember that I came to America as an immigrant. You know, on a ship, through the Statue of Liberty. And I saw that skyline, not just as a representation of steel and concrete and glass, but as really the substance of the American Dream.

Colored lights blink on and off, racing across the green boughs. Their reflections dance across exquisite glass globes and splinter into shards against tinsel thread and garlands of metallic filaments that disappear underneath the other ornaments and finery. Shadows follow, joyful, laughing sprites. The tree is rich with potential wonder. All it needs is a glance from you to come alive .

Imagine a delicious glass of summer iced tea. Take a long cool sip. Listen to the ice crackle and clink. Is the glass part full or part empty? Take another sip. And now?

A small frosted glass of umeshu (plum wine) sat on a white paper coaster toward the top. The syrupy wine, actually made from small Japanese apricots, had a honeyed smoothness and a fruity finish that left behind a streak of warmth.

Glass is material sea.

End? No, the journey doesn't end here. Death is just another path, one that we all must take. The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass, and then you see it.

And there it was: like a sheet of glass hanging unsupported in the air, but glass with no attention-catching reflections in it: just a square patch of difference.

I used to jog but the ice cubes kept falling out of my glass.

The mental pane of glass shattered.

Big words. But how fragile is Clara's atheism! Like one of those tiny glass doves Hortense keeps in the lounge cabinet – a breath would knock it over.