Quotes About Cellar

What can one do but go on? She miscarries again. When she recovers, she looks to cast blame: might this be the doing of the spirit in the cellar? Could it be that spiteful? She descends to the cellar and sits on an empty urn, sniffing the air, taking her soundings. To her surprise she feels the spirit commiserate with her. She comes away mollified.

I'll never forget today! I'll always remember, I know! Grandfather looked up through the cellar window at the late-summer trees stirring in a colder wind. Of course you will, Tom, he said. Of course you will.

Wohin gehen wir denn?" "In den Keller." "schloss Schattenhall hat einen Keller?" "Natürlich", sagte Homunkoloss. "Jedes unheimliche Schloss hat einen Keller" (S. 402)

WINE FIRMS A wine firm is an entity that produces and sells wine.

Smell goes up, not down. You'd notice a decaying body in the cellar much sooner than in the attic. And, anyway, for a long time people would think it was a dead rat.

I wrote in the cellar for a number of years. I needed a private space, and it had a furnace, so it was always warm.

The crying wailed, somewhere beneath the planks. Several sweeps of the light showed that the cellar was otherwise deserted. Though the face mouthed behind him, he ventured down. For God's sake, get it over with; he knew he would never dare return.

A man may take care of a furnace for twenty-five years and still forget to duck his head when he starts going down the cellar stairs.

The cellar was straight off the set of a horror film. The floor was packed dirt and littered with the droppings of mice and rats. The worn stone walls were damp with a slick layer of mold. Even the air was heavy and filled with a dark sense of menace. It combined to create an atmosphere that would send most people fleeing in terror. But Edra was made of sterner stuff.

A wine cellar requires order, forethought and good taste,' the old man used to say. 'These are the virtues that made Britain great.

A wine cellar requires order, forethought and good taste

I told my wife a man is like wine, he gets better with age. She locked me in the cellar.

Buckingham Palace. They lifted their lanterns to reveal a vast cellar

Bottles of wine aren't like paintings. At some point you have to consume them. The object in life is to die with no bottles of wine in your cellar. To drink your last bottle of wine and go to sleep that night and not wake up.

she also apparently had a bona fide dungeon in her house. At least that's what Inez told me when we arrived. Maude, overhearing as she passed by, rolled her eyes. "It's not a dungeon, Inez. It's a wine cellar.

It is kind of dungeon-esque," I murmured to her. "Who uses stone this dark for a wine cellar? I'd expect something more Tuscan.

Theology is never any help; it is searching in a dark cellar at midnight for a black cat that isn't there. Theologians can persuade themselves of anything.

Yes, Norman, I suppose you're right. That's where I'd probably be. But I wouldn't be there alone. Norman slammed the door, locked it, and turned away. He wasn't quite sure, but as he ran up the cellar steps he thought he could still hear her chuckling gently in the dark.

En kold og syrlig lukt av sydlanske varer slog ham imøte, av kaffe og olje og vin. Høie rækker av tekasser, bundter av kanel indsydd i bast, frugt, ris, krydderier, berge av melsækker, altsammen lå i sin bestemte orden fra gulv til tak. I det ene hjørne var nedgangen til kjælderen hvor anker av vin med kobberbånd og årstal skimtedes i halvlyset og hvor vældige metaltanker fulde av olje lå henlagt i grundmuret ro.

The Torment turned his head to him, and frowned. "Who are you?" "I'm... sorry? It's me, it's Vaurien. Vaurien Scapegrace. I... built the cellar for you?" "Oh," the Torment said. "You. Why are you back? I thought you were dead. It would have been nice if you were dead

Down in the cellar, under a stair Covered with cobwebs Nobody cares Withered and pale forgotten it seems That's where i hide them, Yesterday's dreams. Shake out the memories, blow off the dust Smooth out the wrinkles Rub off the rust Remember the times they sparkled so bright Far out of sight Down in the cellar, under a stair Covered with cobwebs Nobody cares Withered and pale, forgotten it seems That's where I hide them, Yesterday's dreams.

It wasn't depression, exactly; more a weird, restless pressure that made me wander the house late at night, opening the best bottles of wine in our cellar and drinking them alone while I channel-surfed along the forgotten byways of cable TV.

Where are you going?' I asked him. 'To hell, eventually,' Jameson answered. 'Probably to the wine cellar, for now.

Where are you going?" I asked him. [...] "To hell, eventually," Jameson answered. "Probably the wine cellar, for now.