Quotes About Chisel

A sculptor wields The chisel, and the stricken marble grows To beauty.

The Duke of Dunstable had one-way pockets. He would walk ten miles in the snow to chisel an orphan out of tuppence.

I'm an ice sculptor. Last night I made a cube.

So I often saw my father writing under the lamp, scratching his head to find something to write about, even telling her that the handle had come off the kettle, and about Gareth cutting a lump out of the door with my chisel, with pages about Taliesin, of course. There is strange to see a man quiet in his own world, and searching it for jewels to give his queen.

I took the broom and made a wild sweep along the workbench, and an edge of the unwieldy head sent a tray of tools flying. Patrick picked up a chipped chisel and looked at me as if I had attacked his son. Have you never used a broom before?

I think it is not so much the growth of virtue, as simply the replacement of prior vices with an addiction to one's god." Umegat emptied his cup. "The gods love their great-souled men and women as an artist loves fine marble, but the issue isn't virtue. It is will. Which is chisel and hammer.

Thou wert wise to chisel for me: «Taken from the evil to come».

You are the sculptor of your success. Chisel yourself into excellence.

Life is a quarry, out of which we are to mold and chisel and complete a character.

The sculptor produces the beautiful statue by chipping away such parts of the marble block as are not needed — it is a process of elimination.

The sculptor produces the beautiful statue by chipping away such parts of the marble block as are not needed - it is a process of elimination.

Celibacy is like poetry keeping the idea ever in mind like a dream; but marriage uses chisel and brush, concentrating more on marble and canvas. Celibacy jumps to a conclusion like an intuition; marriage, like reason, labors through ebb and flow, step by step.

...Though we chisel away as best we can at the mysterious block from which our life is made, the black vein of destiny continually reappears.

A sculptor wields The chisel, and the stricken marble grows To beauty.

The sculptor must paint with his chisel; half his touches are not to realize, but to put power into, the form. They are touches of light and shadow, and raise a ridge, or sink a hollow, not to represent an actual ridge or hollow, but to get a line of light, or a spot of darkness.

I should be the last woman to thumb my nose at the gentlemen whose judgments make or break a play in New York. They have treated me handsomely. But two or three of them write with a chisel.

Pens are too light.Take a chisel to write.

Today's despair is a poor chisel to carve out tomorrow's justice.

You forgot to cough!" he said. "Sorry." She coughed. "Your sneakiness is dangerous. Next time that chisel will lodge itself in my head." "Now, Peder, there's plenty of stone around here for carving. No need to practice on your own face." He stroked his chin. "You're right, my jaw is already chiseled to perfection." She agreed, but she felt too silly to say so aloud.

Life is a quarry, out of which we are to mold and chisel and complete a character.

To start, the sculptor stands before the unwrought block, the pure material which comprises every possibility. The material answers to the chisel; it can destroy, or deliver the spiritual power of life-giving water from out of the rock. "Der Bildhauer steht zunächst dem rohen Block, der puren Materie gegenüber, die jede Möglichkeit umschließt. Sie antworten dem Meißel; er kann zerstören oder Wasser des Lebens geistige Macht aus ihr befreien.

When carving stone, the sculptor removes everything that is not the statue. […] The art of revealing beauty lies in removing what conceals it. So, too, Patanjali [in the Yoga Sutras] tells us that wholeness exists within us. Our work is to chisel away at everything that is not essence, not Self.

Only the mouth-hole piped out, Importunate cricket In a quarry of silences. The people of the city heard it. They hunted the stones, taciturn and separate, The mouth-hole crying their locations. Drunk as a fetus I suck at the paps of darkness. The food tubes embrace me. Sponges kiss my lichens away. The jewelmaster drives his chisel to pry Open one stone eye. This is the after-hell: I see the light. A wind unstoppers the chamber

A disease and its treatment can be a series of humiliations, a chisel for humility.