Quotes About Spire

those latitudes, poured out his blessings upon the city. The warm tide of light, paying tribute first to the newer creed, flowed over the topmost cross of the cathedral, washing its cool stone with golden glory, splashing down the spire.

The sun was already long past the spire when Garrick purchased a mug of coffee from his regular man on the tip of Oxford Street. But his palate had been educated by 21st century coffee, and he judged this mug as bilge water not fit for the Irish.

I think . . . I think says the brain . . . But the little spire with the eyes of ecstasy On the brain's dome is the life, Not thinking anything, But flaming . . . little fool you will cease Flaming when you flame up to peace.

New York is to the nation what the white church spire is to the village — the visible symbol of aspiration and faith, the white plume saying the way is up!

A dozen pigeons roosting on the cathedral spire cataract down its length and wheel out over the sea.

Her fingers travel back to the cathedral spire. South to the Gate of Dinan. All evening she has been marching her fingers around the model, waiting for her great-uncle Etienne, who owns this house, who went out the previous night while she slept, and who has not returned. And now it is night again, another revolution of the clock, and the whole block is quiet, and she cannot sleep.

Four years of occupation, and the roar of oncoming bombers is the roar of what? Deliverance? Extirpation? The clack-clack of small-arms fire. The gravelly snare drums of flak. A dozen pigeons roosting on the cathedral spire cataract down its length and wheel out over the sea.

Moscow swam in color. Hazy floodlights of Red Square mixed with the neon of casinos in Revolution Square. Light wormed its way from the underground mall in the Manezh. Spotlights crowned new towers of glass and polished stone, each tower capped by a spire. Gilded domes still floated around the Garden Ring, but all night earth-movers tore at the old city and dug widening pools of light to raise a modern, vertical Moscow more like Houston or Dubai.

Spire peered past him, staring directly at the dark gray tom-kit. His fur ruffled along his spine. "This one will see into the shadows.

In every village marked with little spire, Embowered in trees, and hardly known to fame.

All he has conveyed was disapproval, the stone spire of the Montargo tower.

Gastern could see now that the sacred building was composed entirely of petrified gargoyles. Their grimacing faces peered out from every eave and spire. If the right words were spoken, perhaps they could come to life and fly in all directions. People would wake in the morning and there would only be an immense crater where the cathedral once stood.

Who cares,' cried Van, 'who cares about all those stale myths, what does it matter—Jove or Jehovah, spire or cupola, mosques in Moscow, or bronzes and bonzes, and clerics, and relics, and deserts with bleached camel ribs? They are merely the dust and mirages of the communal mud.

Rebuilt in Victorian times, it retained the modesty of its medieval origins. Small and neat, its spire indicated the direction of heaven without trying to pierce a hole in it.

New York is to the nation what the white church spire is to the village - the visible symbol of aspiration and faith, the white plume saying the way is up!

The spire above the empty belfry was bent; it leaned, like the leaning jackpines all around it, with the prevailing northwest wind.