Quotes About Glass

What would I put in my bottom drawer? – I would put only sharp objects, the clean lines of broken glass, the honed steel of paring knives, the tiny saw-teeth of bread knives and the soothing edges of razor blades, I weigh knives in my hands like strange comforters.

Some men are like musical glasses; to produce their finest tones you must keep them wet.

It gives men courage and ambition and the nerve for anything. It has the colour of gold, is clear as a glass and shines after dark as if the sunshine were still in it.

When a man dies, his secrets bond like crystals, like frost on a window. His last breath obscures the glass.

Under my head till morning; but the rain, Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh, Upon the glass and listen for reply.

No moon, sun, diamond, hands — fingertip, dot, ray, gauze, sea. pine green, pink glass, eye, mine, eraser, mud, mother, I am coming.

I think when we talk of craft we talk of a certain set of processes, whether that be clay of glass if jewelry or textiles, and we look back through history instantly.

Somebody just gave me a shower radio. Thanks a lot. Do you really want music in the shower? I guess there's no better place to dance than a slick surface next to a glass door.

Ibn Firnas was a polymath: a physician, a rather bad poet, the first to make glass from stones (quartz), a student of music, and inventor of some sort of metronome.

The evolution of human mentality has put us all in vitro now, behind the glass wall of our own ingenuity.

Some say the glass is half full and blush, Some say it's half empty and sink, I feel you are in the midst of, reaching out for another awesome drink!

He was a glass half full kind of person and she was...what? The glass is going to break before you can even pour kind of person. Yikes.

If ever you want a rainbow in your home, go to Sandwich Glass Museum, and let them put one in your heart too.

Even if a poet writes about sitting in a glass house drinking tea, it reflects politics.

Rosiness is not a worse windowpane than gloomy gray when viewing the world.

Wine enters through the mouth, Love, the eyes. I raise the glass to my mouth, I look at you, I sigh.

His eyes were eggs of unstable crystal, vibrating with a frequency whose name was rain and the sound of trains, suddenly sprouting a humming forest of hair-fine glass spines.

Leaves move in the windows. I cannot tell you yet how beautiful it is, what it means. But they do move. They move in the glass.

Ghosts. There were too many of them in his life now. He lifted his glass, and with the last swallow of his sherry, he toasted the dead.

The barkeep sliced a lime in half, squeezed the juice from each half into a jigger, dropped one of the emptied hulls into the glass along with a shot of the juice.

the barkeep carrying two beers in heavy glass mugs. He slammed the steins down so that waves of beer sloshed onto the table. Without a word he turned and trudged back to the bar. The outlaw hoisted his mug. "Cheers," he said

Eros grimaced, as cute as only the God of Love can be, his gloved hand hovering over a glass box full of hissing adders.

For all things turn to barenness In the dim glass the demons hold The glass of outer weariness Made when God slept in times of old

Meditation is the soul's perspective glass, whereby, in her long remove, she discerneth God, as if He were nearer at hand.