Chisel Quotes

Authors: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
Categories: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
the-mind-is-chisel-matter-is-stone-life-is-sculpture-make-sure-you-use-your-chisel-wisely-carsten-ostergaard-pedersen
why-should-i-deem-myself-to-be-chisel-when-i-could-be-artist-friedrich-schiller
you-are-sculptor-your-success-chisel-yourself-into-excellence-mark-f-lamoure
you-are-sculptor-your-success-chisel-carve-yourself-into-excellence-mark-f-lamoure
wisdom-is-sharp-chisel-to-carve-out-your-future-matshona-dhliwayo
its-so-cold-we-had-to-chisel-the-dog-off-a-lamppost
war-is-a-poor-chisel-to-carve-out-tomorrow
at-the-end-of-the-highway-they039ll-chisel-my-name-in-the-stone
life-is-quarry-out-which-we-are-to-mold-chisel-complete-character-samuel-butler
every-moment-i-shape-my-destiny-with-chisel-i-am-carpenter-my-own-soul-rumi
a-disease-and-its-treatment-can-be-a-series-of-humiliations-a-chisel-for-humility
a-sculptor-wields-the-chisel-and-the-stricken-marble-grows-to-beauty
she-did-not-arrive-at-annandale-without-taking-chisel-to-herself-more-than-once-without-rubbing-up-against-few-boys-to-smooth-edge-two-thomm-quackenbush
god-uses-chronic-pain-weakness-along-with-other-afflictions-as-his-chisel-for-sculpting-our-lives-j-i-packer
the-sculpture-is-already-complete-within-marble-block-before-i-start-my-work-it-is-already-there-i-just-have-to-chisel-away-superfluous-material-michelangelo-buonarroti
for-customs-peoples-are-worthless-they-cut-tree-out-forest-craftsman-shapes-it-with-his-chisel-jeremiah-103
what-severe-yet-master-artist-old-winter-is-no-longer-canvas-pigments-but-marble-chisel-john-burroughs
no-one-will-ever-win-four-super-bowls-in-six-years-again-it-wont-happen-you-can-chisel-that-sucker-in-stone-terry-bradshaw
i-want-freedom-to-carve-chisel-my-own-face-to-staunch-bleeding-with-ashes-to-fashion-my-own-gods-out-my-entrails-gloria-e-anzald
the-duke-dunstable-had-oneway-pockets-he-would-walk-ten-miles-in-snow-to-chisel-orphan-out-tuppence-pg-wodehouse
writing-is-like-sculpturing-words-out-block-imagination-sentences-chisel-story-then-characters-make-it-their-own-federico-chini
though-we-chisel-away-as-best-we-can-at-mysterious-block-from-which-our-life-is-made-black-vein-destiny-continually-reappears-victor-hugo
so-this-is-love-sculptors-chisel-and-stone-which-in-its-whole-life-does-not-utter-single-word-suddenly-sings-milan-refus
in-vain-we-chisel-as-best-we-can-the-mysterious-block-of-which-our-life-is-made-the-black-vein-of-destiny-reappears-continually
in-order-to-become-chisel-that-breaks-marble-inside-us-artist-must-first-become-hammer-soviet-censor-paintings-photos-anthony-marra
rain-whose-soft-architectural-hands-have-power-to-cut-stones-chisel-to-shapes-grandeur-mountains-henry-ward-beecher
such-is-neverfailing-beauty-accuracy-language-most-perfect-art-in-world-chisel-thousand-years-retouches-it-henry-david-thoreau
dont-accept-limitations-other-people-who-claim-things-are-unchangeable-if-its-written-in-stone-bring-your-hammer-chisel-peter-mcwilliams
thats-big-challenge-lifeto-chisel-disappointment-into-wisdom-people-respect-you-you-dont-annoy-your-friends-with-your-whining-marc-maron
tortured-red-gums-unashamed-sunburnt-country-wisely-named-chiselploughed-wireclaimed-but-never-never-never-tamed-john-williamson
we-have-lit-upon-gentle-sensitive-mind-and-lost-old-nonchalance-hand-whether-we-have-chosen-chisel-pen-brush-we-are-but-critics-but-half-create-william-butler-yeats
love-kindness-are-hammer-chisel-that-gently-chip-through-barriers-longheld-beliefs-to-reveal-magnificent-soul-contained-within-every-human-molly-friedenfeld
in-building-temple-only-blocks-dressed-at-quarry-were-used-no-hammer-chisel-any-other-iron-tool-was-heard-at-temple-site-while-it-was-being-built-1-kings-67
love-stories-are-written-in-millimeters-milliseconds-with-fast-dull-pencil-whose-marks-you-can-barely-see-they-are-written-in-miles-eons-with-chisel-on-side-mountiantop-gabrielle
with-poetry-writing-question-isnt-do-you-know-right-words-the-real-question-is-can-you-make-words-from-unwordable-chisel-blocks-raw-silence-into-shapes-touch-our-souls-jacob-nord
There was some that they called crayons, which one of the daughters which was dead made her own self when she was only fifteen years old. They was different from any pictures I ever see before-blacker, mostly, than is common. One was a woman in a slim black dress, belted small under the armpits, with bulges like a cabbage in the middle of the sleeves, and a large black scoop-shovel bonnet with a black veil, and white slim ankles crossed about with black tape, and very wee black slippers, like a chisel, and she was leaning pensive on a tombstone on her right elbow, under a weeping willow, and her other hand hanging down her side holding a white handkerchief and a reticule, and underneath the picture it said 'Shall I Never See Thee More Alas.' Another one was a young lady with her hair all combed up straight to the top of her head, and knotted there in front of a comb like a chair-back, and she was crying into a handkerchief and had a dead bird laying on its back in her other hand with its heels up, and underneath the picture it said 'I Shall Never Hear Thy Sweet Chirrup More Alas.' There was one where a young lady was at a window looking up at the moon, and tears running down her cheeks; and she had an open letter in one hand with black sealing wax showing on one edge of it, and she was mashing a locket with a chain to it against her mouth, and underneath the picture it said 'And Art Thou Gone Yes Thou Art Gone Alas.' These was all nice pictures, I reckon, but I didn't somehow seem to take to them, because if ever I was down a little they always give me the fan-tods. Everybody was sorry she died, because she had laid out a lot more of these pictures to do, and a body could see by what she had done what they had lost. But I reckoned that with her disposition she was having a better time in the graveyard.

Mark Twain
there-was-some-that-they-called-crayons-which-one-daughters-which-was-dead-made-her-own-self-when-she-was-only-fifteen-years-old-they-was-different-from-any-pictures-i-ever-see-b
Happy the writer who, passing by characters that are boring, disgusting, shocking in their mournful reality, approaches characters that manifest the lofty dignity of man, who from the great pool of daily whirling images has chosen only the rare exceptions, who has never once betrayed the exalted turning of his lyre, nor descended from his height to his poor, insignificant brethren, and, without touching the ground, has given the whole of himself to his elevated images so far removed from it. Twice enviable is his beautiful lot: he is among them as in his own family; and meanwhile his fame spreads loud and far. With entrancing smoke he has clouded people's eyes; he has flattered them wondrously, concealing what is mournful in life, showing them a beautiful man. Everything rushes after him, applauding, and flies off following his triumphal chariot. Great world poet they name him, soaring high above all other geniuses in the world, as the eagle soars above the other high fliers. At the mere mention of his name, young ardent hearts are filled with trembling, responsive tears shine in all eyes... No one equals him in power-he is God! But such is not the lot, and other is the destiny of the writer who has dared to call forth all that is before our eyes every moment and which our indifferent eyes do not see-all the stupendous mire of trivia in which our life in entangled, the whole depth of cold, fragmented, everyday characters that swarm over our often bitter and boring earthly path, and with the firm strength of his implacable chisel dares to present them roundly and vividly before the eyes of all people! It is not for him to win people's applause, not for him to behold the grateful tears and unanimous rapture of the souls he has stirred; no sixteen-year-old girl will come flying to meet him with her head in a whirl and heroic enthusiasm; it is not for him to forget himself in the sweet enchantment of sounds he himself has evoked; it is not for him, finally, to escape contemporary judgment, hypocritically callous contemporary judgment, which will call insignificant and mean the creations he has fostered, will allot him a contemptible corner in the ranks of writers who insult mankind, will ascribe to him the quality of the heroes he has portrayed, will deny him heart, and soul, and the divine flame of talent. For contemporary judgment does not recognize that equally wondrous are the glasses that observe the sun and those that look at the movement of inconspicuous insect; for contemporary judgment does not recognize that much depth of soul is needed to light up the picture drawn from contemptible life and elevate it into a pearl of creation; for contemporary judgment does not recognize that lofty ecstatic laughter is worthy to stand beside the lofty lyrical impulse, and that a whole abyss separates it from the antics of the street-fair clown! This contemporary judgment does not recognize; and will turn it all into a reproach and abuse of the unrecognized writer; with no sharing, no response, no sympathy, like a familyless wayfarer, he will be left alone in the middle of the road. Grim is his path, and bitterly he will feel his solitude.

Nikolai Gogol
happy-writer-who-passing-by-characters-that-are-boring-disgusting-shocking-in-their-mournful-reality-approaches-characters-that-manifest-lofty-dignity-man-who-from-great-pool-dai
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