Quotes About Stone

All those strange parables, where the philosophers talked mystically about a stone, a moon, an oven, a vessel – all that is Saturn [i.e., all talk about humans]; because you must not add anything extraneous, except for what emanates from itself. None in the world is too poor to undertake and execute the Work. The seven grades of alchemical

I took a deep breath, inhaling the musty scent of unbrushed velvet and candle wax. So the room was blood red, dark, and scary. I was here to get yelled at and maybe fired by a hooker in a sari, not sacrificed to Satan on a stone altar. p.250

When I can feel you breathing into me i, like a stone gargoyle atop some crumbling building, spring to life a resuscitated angel.

There's no shame," John Barton said quietly. "Funerals are the place for letting it out. They're the last free-for-all in our society. Without them we would all turn to stone from unexpressed emotion.

He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches. To the one who conquers I will give some of the hidden manna, and I will give him a white stone, with a new name written on the stone that no one knows except the one who receives it. (Rev. 2:17)

Like a stone on the surface of a still river Driving the ripples on forever Redemption rips through the surface of time In the cry of a tiny babe.

The startled girl dropped her watering-pot and clasped her hands together, and at that moment a stone cannon-ball crashed through her fair body.

When the commissionaire had gone, Holmes took up the stone and held it against the light. "It's a bonny thing," said he. "Just see how it glints and sparkles. Of course it is a nucleus and focus of crime. Every good stone is. They are the devil's pet baits. In the larger and older jewels every facet may stand for a bloody deed.

He grazed his cattle on these slopes, and he learned to dig for tin when the bronze sword began to supersede the stone axe. Look at the great trench in the opposite hill. That is his mark. Yes, you will find some very singular points about the moor, Dr. Watson.

I won't say my emotions had settled themselves by the time the train pulled into Kyoto Station early the following morning. After all, when a stone is dropped into a pond, the water continues quivering even after the stone has sunk to the bottom.

The Devil is precise; the marks of his presence are definite as stone...

The night transfixed me; the night took possession of me, enveloped and penetrated me, impalpable, insubstantial. Turned to stone.

Her gaze on Vane, Patience wished she could see his eyes. His expression was unreadable. Shoulders propped against the stone arch, arms folded cross his chest, he watched her like a hawk. A brooding, potentially menacing hawk. Or a wolf anticipating a meal.

All is forgotten in the stone halls of the dead. These are the rooms of ruin where the spiders spin and the great circuits fall quiet, one by one...

All is silent in the halls of the dead. All is forgotten in the stone halls of the dead, Behold the stairways which stand in darkness; behold the rooms of ruin. These are the halls of the dead where the spiders spin and the great circuits fall quiet, one by one.

Hodges has read there are wells in Iceland so deep you can drop a stone down them and never hear the splash. He thinks some human souls are like that.

They were drugged, stone in love. To them every scar on the face of the world was a beauty mark.

You're a stone cold killer, Frank. You kill people for a living. And so does this German guy. You aren't heroes. You're what most people fear. You're the antitheses of a hero. You ever think of that?

I looked around me for an appropriate missile. In a glass cabinet nearby was an odd black stone, of irregular outline, small enough to lift, but large enough to brain an afrit nicely It had a lot of scribbling down one flat side, which I didn't have time to read. It was probably a set of rules for visitor to the museum, since it seemed to be written in two or three languages.

They went together to the pond. The frogs, frozen by the movement, sat still. Fourteen golden eyes like nuggets gleamed unwinking from the margin. Some squatted on dead reeds and immersed branches. Tranced by the half-apprehended movement above them they relied for safety upon immobility. Some hung by one slim hand like children to a raft. All had been stricken to stone by the human appearance. Only the sun, shifting in the sky, tickled the fire in the nuggets in their green heads.

Those towards the south were of a red stone. The middle one reached to heaven like the throne of God;

The interior of the Zigana Mosque, a beehivelike geodesic dome composed of pointed arches of honey-colored stone, was based on al-Biruni's sacred geometry.

What term do you employ when you speak of your progenitor?" I answered with the term I'd always wanted to employ. "Sonovabitch." "To his face?" she asked. "I never see his face." "He wears a mask?" "In a way, yes. Of stone. Of absolute stone.

Speak with us, warrior ancestors," Littlecloud meowed. "Show us the destiny of our Clans." Leafpaw closed her eyes and pressed her nose against the surface of the stone.