Quotes About Carved

But there is room now in my heart for more memories, carved by a letting go that I could find only by coming home to a place I'd never been.

It was dark inside and unevenly lighted. The mood was as intimate as a small beat-up warehouse. There were photos tacked to the walls and names carved into the pine paneling. The floor was gritty with dirt.

John's tattoo..Goddamn..He'd done it as a memorial to her-putting her name in his skin so she'd be with him always. After all, there was nothing more permanent than that-hell, that was why in the mating ceremony males got their backs carved up: Rings could get lost.

But now the giant heads of Plato and Socrates, each with an expression of penetrating wisdom carved on his white features, surveyed the river and the melon beds beyond.

since Balthasar's fortress, stood a carved camphorwood stand on which a large codex lay open. The book was bound in brass filigreed with copper and silver, and the pages were made of a parchment finer than I had ever seen.

This Comanche cannot change his face. She touched the scar that slashed his cheek, the lifeless lips that had so frequently whispered comfort to her. If her face was carved on his heart, his was carved on her soul.

Hunter, why did you tie me to stakes again tonight? How long do you plan to do that?" "Until my touch is carved in your heart.

Monsters, you know, cannot appreciate the niceties of commandments carved in stone.

Through the screen was a carved oak door, a door that, barring a tornado or fire, would outlast the house.

The Way returns the carved and the polished to simplicity.

The moon this particular evening is a great hole carved through nightflesh to reveal pale, luminescent bone,

The trip down the Yangtze from Chongqing (formerly Chungking, Chiang Kai-shek's World War II capital in Sichuan) to Yichang at the exit of the gorges took one and a half days. To look up and see, high up on the perpendicular surface of sheer rock, huge Chinese characters carved thousands of years ago to commemorate events and ideas was to be awed.

Do all memories of the poor huddle together in the villages? And do the rich keep their dreams in a box carved from minerals?

I went up to the terrace again and looked out on the tawny, many-alleyed city. At night it looked carved from brown sugar.

My finger travels the longest carved line on the face, the thickest welt, up that face. From the base of the jaw all the way up the cheek, stopping just short of the abalone shell eye. These lines cut into the wood are meant to mimic the ancient facial tattoos that marked these ancestors as men, as warriors, as worthy of carrying their lineage back into the place of death and yet forward into the place of tomorrow.

He looked, as always, as if he had been carved from some durable form of wood by someone who was taking a correspondence course in sculpture and had just reached his third lesson.

The house had a name. The Banana House. It was carved onto a piece of sandstone above the front door. It made no sense to anyone.

A massive half-tester bed takes up most of the space in the first room, the headboard panel carved with various animals with women's heads and bare breasts- owls, snakes and foxes- doing some kind of weird dance.

His great carved wooden head was marked with a black eye that was more yellow than black and from this spectacular bed of bruised flesh the eye itself, sand irritated, bloodshot, as wild as a currawong's, stared out at a landscape in which the tops of fences protruded from windswept sand.

Oft did I weary of wrestling with thee. Carved an unknown galley slave into an oar. And Rudyard Kipling into his desk.

To Judeans the cross was perhaps the most hated symbol of Roman rule. The deadly silhouette had scarred too many hilltops, signifying the most ignoble of deaths, a lingering torment that carried shame for all who witnessed it. And yet here it was, portraying a hope that transcended their worries and fears. Merely looking at this bit of carved wood lifted Linux beyond himself, carried upon a promise as strong as it was eternal.

Closer yet, and she saw that it was a wall of black bricks clean and smooth as obsidian, perfectly adamantine, perfectly untouchable. "Up we go, up we go," she whistled to herself, and as she did, she noticed how the light caught the obsidian bricks at just such an angle that each brick seemed to have a face carved upon it. A wall of souls.

Good Evening , Sir John. I hope that you will accept a little gift from me.' I should be honored, Your Majesty.' I want to give you a little carved stool from my privy chambers. A pretty little piece from France. I hope you will like it.' I should be grateful.' It is for your daughter. For Jane. To sit on. She seems not to have a seat of her own but she must borrow mine.

Scots have long memories, and they're not the most forgiving of people. There's a clan stone out there with the name of MacKenzie carved on it, and a good many of my relatives under it. I don't feel quite so personal about it as some, but I haven't forgotten either. - Roger MacKenzie Wakefield