Quotes About Iron

You are my father, Incarceron. I was born from your pain. Bone of steel; circuits for veins. My heart a vault of iron.

E tu pur volgi Dai miseri lo sguardo ; e tu, sdegnando Le sciagure e gli affani, alla reina Felicita servi, o natura. In cielo, In terra amico agl'infelici alcuno E rifugio non resta altro che il ferro. Mais toi aussi tu détournes Tes yeux des malheureux, ô nature, Méprisant les disgrâces, les peines, Tu ne sers que le bonheur, ce souverain. Dans le ciel, sur la terre, il n'est au malheureux D'autre ami, d'autre refuge, que le fer. (La vita solitaria, la vie solitaire)

Pero los hombres se destruyen con el hierro y se compran con el oro.

There is no day that one should skip But one should seize, without distrust, The possible with iron grip

That is why they are for'ard, in that pigsty of a forecastle, because they lack the iron.

Spokespeople sell women the Iron Maiden and name her "Health": if public discourse were really concerned with women's health, it would turn angrily upon this aspect of the beauty myth.

'J'eet jet?' is still the standard way for a Pittsburgher to ask if you're ready for a meal, but the meal itself is no longer limited to chipped ham and an Iron City beer.

Fertile soil, level plains, easy passage across the mountains, coal, iron, and other metals imbedded in the rocks, and a stimulating climate, all shower their blessings upon man.

I believe that you meet people who are vital to your transformation only when the conditions are right, when the tenacious concerns of the unconscious break into awareness. Then such kindred spirits are drawn to each other like iron shavings to a magnet.

Even the aesthetic activities of political opposites are one in their enthusiastic obedience to the rhythm of the iron system.

We wind a simple ring of iron with coils; we establish the connections to the generator, and with wonder and delight we note the effects of strange forces which we bring into play, which allow us to transform, to transmit and direct energy at will. We arrange the circuits properly, and we see the mass of iron and wires behave as though it were endowed with life

Brainless wasn't bad. Today, brainless was right up her alley. This world of grunts and clanking iron, the same tasks repeated mindlessly until failure, Mitzi loved it the moment she'd stepped through the door of the weight room. The Sisyphean repetition of lifting and lowering. Nothing represented life better than this endless losing battle against gravity. The grunts and cries that conveyed so much more than words ever could.

ARNOLD Ridgeway's father was a blacksmith. The sunset glow of molten iron bewitched him, the way the color emerged in the stock slow and then fast, overtaking it like an emotion, the sudden pliability and restless writhing of the thing as it waited for purpose. His forge was a window into the primitive energies of the world.

Craftsmen and artisans created items that were brittle rumors compared with his father's iron facts.

the problem of space remained, she thought, taking up her brush again. It glared at her. The whole mass of the picture was poised upon that weight. Beautiful and bright it should be on the surface, feathery and evanescent, one colour melting into another like the colours on a butterfly's wing; but beneath the fabric must be clamped together with bolts of iron.

That was a memorable day to me, for it made great changes in me. But it is the same with any life. Imagine one selected day struck out of it, and think how different its course would have been. Pause you who read this, and think for a moment of the long chain of iron or gold, of thorns or flowers, that would never have bound you, but for the formation of the first link on one memorable day

Never iron a four-leaf clover, because you don't want to press your luck.

Her hand rooted in her purse and produced a roll of Tums. That purse was like the stomach of Jaws—she was always pulling out a pair of sunglasses, a new shade of lipstick, a waffle iron.

Innumerable stains splashed wildly against the floor, the walls, the iron stanchions … everywhere. Fet recoiled in disgust. "This is all …?" "It is excrement," said Setrakian. "The creatures will shit while they eat." Fet looked around in amazement.

El asta y los brazos son de hierro; la redonda base en que se apoya, de mármol, y la escalinata que a ella conduce, de oscuros y mal unidos fragmentos de sillería.

There is nothing in machinery, there is nothing in embankments and railways and iron bridges and engineering devices to oblige them to be ugly. Ugliness is the measure of imperfection.

She hopped back into the fed van with the rest of the agents. As they pulled away, I looked up to see Mary Catherine standing at the top of the stairs by the iron railing of the porch.

In 1854 I took out a patent for puddling iron by means of steam.

We are not in the business of iron ore. Whatever captive iron ore sources we have, we use it to make steel.