Quotes About Cavern

Her flawless pale skin was also spangled with gemstones. I don't know how they'd been attached, but they clung to her and sent little flashes of color glittering around the cavern when she moved. They were concentrated most densely around her ... well ... She'd been, ah, vajazzled.

Sometimes I think there's a beast that lives inside me, in the cavern that's where my heart should be, and every now and then it fills every last inch of my skin, so that I can't help but do something inappropriate. Its breath is full of lies; it smells of spite.

Sometimes I think there's a beast that lives inside me, in the cavern that's where my heart should be, and every now and then it fills every last inch of my skin, so that I can't help but do something inappropriate.

Sometimes I think there's a beast that lives inside me, in the cavern that's where my heart should be, and every now and then it fills every last inch of my skin, so that I can't help but do something inappropriate. Its breath is full of lies; it smells of spite. And just at this moment, it chose to rear its ugly head.

Sometimes I think there's a beast that lives inside me, in the cavern that's where my heart should be, and every now and then it fills every last inch of my skin, so that I can't help but do something inappropriate. Its breath is full of lies; it smells of spite. And just at this moment, it chose to rear its ugly head. I blinked at my father, cranked the volume, and said—too loudly, "Pass the potatoes.

Science is still only a candle glimmering in a great pitch-dark cavern.

here where we are concerned not with the dogma of Scripture and the Corycian cavern only, but in very truth with the awful secrets of the Divine Majesty (namely, why he works in the way we have said), here you smash bolts and bars and rush in all but blaspheming, as indignant as possible with God because you are not allowed to see the meaning and purpose of such a judgment of his.

ugly, jagged scar that ran from the corner of his eye to his hairline just above his ear. He was glad he had it. A lifelong reminder of that awful day thirteen years ago and this treacherous cavern. He'd grown up fast. A breeze coming down across the

The voice broke. Sobbing echoed off the cavern walls. Not a little boy. He stuck his head over the cavern entrance. "A woman?" Rafe spoke aloud. Trying to believe his own ears. The words echoed into the depths. There was no response, only sobs. But it was not his imagination. There really was

Chapter 1 Colorado Territory June 23, 1866 Last time. This is it. Never again. Rafe Kincaid pulled his chestnut thoroughbred to a halt in full darkness, still a short distance away from the entrance of the cavern. He rubbed the ugly, jagged scar that ran from the corner of his eye to

time. This is it. Never again. Rafe Kincaid pulled his chestnut thoroughbred to a halt in full darkness, still a short distance away from the entrance of the cavern. He rubbed the ugly, jagged scar that ran from the corner of his eye to his hairline just above his ear.

Chills stood the hair on the back of his neck on end as he thought of being stuck down in the cavern, forever.

Territory June 23, 1866 Last time. This is it. Never again. Rafe Kincaid pulled his chestnut thoroughbred to a halt in full darkness, still a short distance away from the entrance of the cavern. He rubbed the ugly, jagged

Dragons eventually wake and crawl from their dark dens.

There is one—how would you put it—loophole." "Loophole? More like a giant cavern if I have wings.

The end of the room dripped and glowed an eerie vampire-cavern red. Blood dripped onto the body below, thickly, silently, the drops absorbed by its clothes.

Tell me, thou Star, whose wings of light Speed thee in thy fiery flight, In what cavern of the night Will thy pinions close now? Tell me, Moon, thou pale and gray Pilgrim of heaven's homeless way, In what depth of night or day Seekest thou repose now? Weary Mind, who wanderest Like the world's rejected guest, Hast thou still some secret nest On tree or billow?

Soft as an Incarnation of the Sun, When light is changed to love, this glorious One Floated into the cavern where I lay, And called my Spirit, and the dreaming clay Was lifted by the thing that dreamed below As smoke by fire, and in the beauty's glow I stood, and felt the dawn of my long night Was penetrating me with living light: I knew it was the Vision veiled from me So many years - that it was Emily. - Epipsychidion