Quotes About Stone

Cold rain streaked the dark gray stone, trickling like tears down its smooth blank face.

A soul of water a soul of stone. A soul by name a soul unknown. The hours unmake our flesh our bone. The Soul is all and all alone!

The Monastery of the Cenobitical Order was a large-walled compound built seven hundred thousand years ago on a damned-made hill of stone and cement.

Change was incessant, and change perhaps would never cease. High battlements of thought, habits that had seemed as durable as stone, went down like shadows at the touch of another mind and left a naked sky and fresh stars twinkling in it.

He looked very old. He looked, James thought, getting his head now against the Lighthouse, now against the waste of waters running away into the open, like some old stone lying on the sand; he looked as if he had become physically what was always at the back of both of their minds—that loneliness which was for both of them the truth about things.

So we went to the Zoo; & I daresay I could write something interesting about that--a pale stone desert given over to charwomen & decorators: a few bears, a mandrill, & a fox or two--all in the desolation of depression.

And the widow bird, startled, flew away, describing wider and wider circles until it became (what she called her soul) remote as a crow which has been startled up into the air by a stone thrown at it.

I consider myself a Nordic author. But I do not know exactly what that is. I think it has something to do with time, landscapes, weather and language: a slow melancholic attitude, interrupted by dramatic emotions, like a stone in water.

the April day when the Americans mounted the stone steps and pushed the door buzzer, rain had fallen for eleven of the last eleven days, and Aldine McKenna was waiting,

least, that's what it looked like. A roped-off room in a castle somewhere, a room made entirely of blocks of stone, icy and cold, even though a fire burned low in the hearth. A room where doomed queens went to die.

The stone that once held the Magellan escutcheon met with a special fate: It was covered with excrement.

In regard to its identity in the Holy Grail legends, the Chintamani Stone appears to be synonymous with the Stone of Heaven, the manifestation of the Holy Grail mentioned by Wolfram von Eschenbach in his famous Grail rendition known as 'Parzival,' which is regarded by most Grail scholars to be the most complete and authoritative of the Grail legends.

Like Eschenbach's stone, the Chintamani Stone is, apparently, also green in color, since Roerich is on record as also stating that the Chintamani Stone is similar in appearance to a species of meteorite known as Moldavite, which is dark green in color. If the Chintamani Stone is indeed Eschenbach's Stone of Heaven could it also be the original Philosophers Stone, which legends assert could turn a base metal into gold and a human into an immortal deity?

A heart of stone is a sculpture? (Un cœur de pierre - Est une sculpture ?)

His statue served as a lesson and was inscribed: the heart of stone make the body of stone. Forever. (Sa statue servit de leçon et fut inscrit : le cœur de pierre fait le corps de pierre. Pour toujours.)"

The Wall Pass passes the stone. He would pass the stone hearts. (Le Passe Muraille passe la pierre. Il passerait les coeurs de pierre)

Brave lodgings for one, brave lodgings for one, A few feet of cold earth, when life is done; A stone at the head, a stone at the feet, A rich, juicy meal for the worms to eat; Rank grass over head, and damp clay around, Brave lodgings for one, these, in holy ground!

IT was a heavy mass of building, that château of Monsieur the Marquis, with a large stone court-yard before it, and two stone sweeps of staircase meeting in a stone terrace before the principal door. A stony business altogether, with heavy stone balustrades, and stone urns, and stone flowers, and stone faces of men, and stone heads of lions, in all directions. As if the Gorgon's head had surveyed it, when it was finished, two centuries ago.

The fountain in the village flowed unseen and unheard, and the fountain at the chateau dropped unseen and unheard—both melting away, like the minutes that were falling from the spring of Time—through three dark hours. Then, the grey water of both began to be ghostly in the light, and the eyes of the stone faces of the chateau were opened.

The church was old and grey, with ivy clinging to the walls, and round the porch. Shunning the tombs, it crept about the mounds, beneath which slept poor humble men: twining for them the first wreaths they had ever won, but wreaths less liable to wither and far more lasting in their kind, than some which were graven deep in stone and marble, and told in pompous terms of virtues meekly hidden for many a year, and only revealed at last to executors and mourning legatees.

Was there not some Greek myth about the man who tried to ravish the goddess, only to have her turn to stone when he touched her? That is literally what has happened to Paris. When the Germans came, the soul simply went out of it; and what is left is only stone.

was it man's love to screw the sky with monuments span the bay with orange and silver bridges shuttling structure into structure incorruptible in this endless tie each age impassions be it in stone or steel either in echo or halfheard ruin

I couldn't help noticing certain parts of the statues have been polished to a high sheen by passing hands as the centuries passed. If it's a form of worship it is not much odder or more perverse than the saint's stone toe kissed to a stub by fervent lips.

So I'll take all your books. But the cathedrals I'll leave behind. Their stone is sad and male.