Quotes About Chestnut

Late one brilliant April afternoon Professor Lucius Wilson stood at the head of Chestnut Street, looking about him with the pleased air of a man of taste who does not very often get to Boston.

Labor is blossoming or dancing whereThe body is not bruised to pleasure soul,Nor beauty born out of its own despair,Nor blear-eyed wisdom out of midnight oil.O chestnut tree, great-rooted blossomer,Are you the leaf, the blossom or the bole?O body swayed to music, O brightening glance,How can we know the dancer from the dance?

It was one of those golden autumn afternoons and there were blackberries and splashes of old man's beard in the hedges, and the hawthorn berries were ripening scarlet for the birds when the cold winter came along. There were tall trees here and there on either side, oak and sycamore and ash and occasionally a sweet chestnut.

After the service, a crowd gathered by the grave. It is not a pauper's grave. It is the sort of grave that ordinary people dream of: under the boughs of a horse chestnut, in the company of yews and flocks of rooks, in a Norman churchyard. Beyond the aged wall that borders this blissful cemetery the hills and copses rise like waves.

You are like a chestnut burr, prickly outside, but silky-soft within, and a sweet kernel, if one can only get at it. Love will make you show your heart some day, and then the rough burr will fall off.

I'm more than just a competitive eater. I'm a smart guy. I could be an awesome park ranger.

The way downhill, into the bottomless incredulity which is despair, was incandescent with flowering chestnut trees.

There are those whose character is like a chestnut without a kernel.

How could anyone not use the humble chestnut at Christmas? It has a great flavour and can be used to make chocolate cake more festive.

The comical dusky down that had covered Anna's head in early childhood had become a waist-length mantle, its rich darkness shot through like watered silk with chestnut, indigo, and bronze. "Over my dead body will you cut your hair.

This is the weather the cuckoo likes, And so do I; When showers betumble the chestnut spikes, And nestlings fly

Pensive chest nut tree in tavern garden. The damp bells have grown silent. A young lad sings by the stream - Fire seeking out darkness -

Chestnut was especially popular—not the imported European chestnut roasted on Manhattan street corners in the fall, but the smaller, soft-shelled, deeply sweet native American chestnut, now almost extinguished by chestnut blight. In colonial times, as many as one out of every four trees in between southeastern Canada and Georgia was a chestnut—partly the result, it would seem, of Indian burning and planting.

She was a tall woman with unfashionable hips and a long chestnut braid singing down her back.

A panoramic view of Chestnut Street—sometimes called the most architecturally perfect street in America

Kobayashi was the man. The other competitive eaters, they thought of him as unbeatable... He wasn't an eater. He was a god.

Blue evenings in Berlin, the corner chestnut in flower, light-headedness, poverty, love, the tangerine tinge of premature shoplights, and an animal aching yearn for the still fresh reek of Russia...

Oh yeah, I'm a huge romance fan. And some women like action.

I made my first Yule Log as a culinary student in Paris, complete with the traditional chestnut filling, silky chocolate buttercream, and almost-too-adorable mushrooms. Since then, I've tweaked and updated both the recipe and the process - and I've definitely learned tips and tricks to make it easier.

Under the spreading chestnut treeThe village smithy stands;The smith a mighty man is heWith large and sinewy hands.And the muscles of his brawny armsAre strong as iron bands.

Kairos is the inspiration for the Cretan chestnut "Opportunity makes thieves." What matters is the timing, not the target—seize any opportunity, even if it's not the one you planned.

To me the work is so much more interesting, the parts that don't require you just to take your shirt off.

Paris had its sweetest smell, the smell of chestnut trees in bloom and of petrol with a few grains of dust that crack under your teeth like pepper. In the darknes the danger seemed to grow. You could smell the suffering in the air, in the silence. Everyone looked at their house and thought, "Tomorrow it will be in ruins, tomorrow I'l have nothing left.

Chick forced himself to turn his head away, to walk in view of that window, to take the ten exposed steps down to the chestnut's stall.