Quarry 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
sorryinvale-sorriest-river-crying-pools-said-jared-is-quarry-called-really-depressed-quarry-sarah-rees-brennan
i-look-like-quarry-someone-has-dynamited
i-guess-i-look-like-rock-quarry-that-someone-has-dynamited
life-is-quarry-out-which-we-are-to-mold-chisel-complete-character-samuel-butler
one-has-to-tiptoe-lightly-steal-up-to-ones-quarry-you-dont-swish-water-when-you-are-fishing-henri-cartierbresson
listen-to-me-you-who-pursue-righteousness-who-seek-lord-look-to-rock-from-which-you-were-cut-to-quarry-from-which-you-were-hewn-isaiah-511
nature-lures-men-with-few-crumbs-pleasure-he-can-labor-in-pains-quarry-without-measure-dr-hitesh-c-sheth
but-i-think-the-real-tension-lies-in-the-relationship-between-what-you-might-call-the-pursuer-and-his-quarry-whether-its-the-writer-or-the-spy
i-spent-my-whole-life-avoiding-public-eye-at-these-food-shows-im-open-quarry-again
from-top-quarry-cliffs-one-could-see-new-jersey-suburbs-bordered-by-new-york-city-skyline-robert-smithson
i-live-next-to-quarry-which-i-remember-from-its-later-stages-life-as-just-large-waterfilled-hole-in-ground-alan-ross
cameras-are-like-dogs-but-dumb-toward-quarry-even-more-faithful-they-point-they-render-defy-photographer-who-hopes-tod-papageorge
the-good-historian-is-like-giant-fairy-tale-he-knows-that-wherever-he-catches-scent-human-flesh-there-his-quarry-lies-marc-bloch
the-undertaking-careless-man-succeeds-not-though-he-use-right-expedients-clever-hunter-though-well-placed-in-ambush-kills-not-his-quarry-if-he-j-k-bharavi
i-think-my-quarry-is-illusion-i-war-against-magic-i-believe-that-though-illusion-often-cheers-comforts-it-ultimately-invariably-weakens-constricts-spirit-irvin-d-yalom
guido-plumber-michelangelo-obtained-their-marble-from-same-quarry-but-what-each-saw-in-marble-made-difference-between-noblemans-sink-brilliant-rob-kall
i-am-not-in-pursuit-truth-it-is-not-my-quarry-i-am-my-human-nature-thinker-conscious-need-responsibility-thinking-speaking-with-truth-i-do-not-go-about-hunting-truths
at-kings-command-they-removed-from-quarry-large-blocks-quality-stone-to-provide-foundation-dressed-stone-for-temple-1-kings-517
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
my-father-is-actually-quarry-man-he-deals-in-stone-he-also-at-one-point-had-lot-sheep-he-owned-sheep-farm-but-primarily-family-business-was-in-stone
ive-never-been-to-himalayas-im-not-really-interested-in-them-im-more-interested-in-dirty-old-quarry-in-lancashire-by-god-they-can-be-dirty
Put it on record -I am an Arab And the number of my card is fifty thousand I have eight children And the ninth is due after summer. What's there to be angry about? Put it on record. -I am an Arab Working with comrades of toil in a quarry. I have eight childern For them I wrest the loaf of bread, The clothes and exercise books From the rocks And beg for no alms at your doors, -Lower not myself at your doorstep. -What's there to be angry about? Put it on record. -I am an Arab. I am a name without a tide, Patient in a country where everything Lives in a whirlpool of anger. -My roots -Took hold before the birth of time -Before the burgeoning of the ages, -Before cypess and olive trees, -Before the proliferation of weeds. My father is from the family of the plough -Not from highborn nobles. And my grandfather was a peasant -Without line or genealogy. My house is a watchman's hut -Made of sticks and reeds. Does my status satisfy you? -I am a name without a surname. Put it on Record. -I am an Arab. Color of hair: jet black. Color of eyes: brown. My distinguishing features: -On my head the 'iqal cords over a keffiyeh -Scratching him who touches it. My address: -I'm from a village, remote, forgotten, -Its streets without name -And all its men in the fields and quarry. -What's there to be angry about? Put it on record. -I am an Arab. You stole my forefathers' vineyards -And land I used to till, -I and all my childern, -And you left us and all my grandchildren -Nothing but these rocks. -Will your government be taking them too -As is being said? So! -Put it on record at the top of page one: -I don't hate people, -I trespass on no one's property. And yet, if I were to become starved -I shall eat the flesh of my usurper. -Beware, beware of my starvation. -And of my anger!

Mahmoud Darwish
put-it-on-record-i-am-arab-and-number-my-card-is-fifty-thousand-i-have-eight-children-and-ninth-is-due-after-summer-whats-there-to-be-angry-about-put-it-on-record-i-am-arab-worki
ive-never-liked-urban-myths-ive-never-liked-pretending-to-believe-in-them-never-understood-why-everyone-else-doesnt-see-straight-through-them-why-is-it-theyve-always-happened-to-
And that date, too, is far off?' 'Far off; when it comes, think your end in this world is at hand!' 'How and what is the end? Look east, west, south and north.' 'In the north, where you never yet trod, towards the point whence your instincts have warned you, there a spectre will seize you. 'Tis Death! I see a ship - it is haunted - 'tis chased - it sails on. Baffled navies sail after that ship. It enters the regions of ice. It passes a sky red with meteors. Two moons stand on high, over ice-reefs. I see the ship locked between white defiles - they are ice-rocks. I see the dead strew the decks - stark and livid, green mold on their limbs. All are dead, but one man - it is you! But years, though so slowly they come, have then scathed you. There is the coming of age on your brow, and the will is relaxed in the cells of the brain. Still that will, though enfeebled, exceeds all that man knew before you, through the will you live on, gnawed with famine; and nature no longer obeys you in that death-spreading region; the sky is a sky of iron, and the air has iron clamps, and the ice-rocks wedge in the ship. Hark how it cracks and groans. Ice will imbed it as amber imbeds a straw. And a man has gone forth, living yet, from the ship and its dead; and he has clambered up the spikes of an iceberg, and the two moons gaze down on his form. That man is yourself; and terror is on you - terror; and terror has swallowed your will. And I see swarming up the steep ice-rock, grey grisly things. The bears of the north have scented their quarry - they come near you and nearer, shambling and rolling their bulk, and in that day every moment shall seem to you longer than the centuries through which you have passed. And heed this - after life, moments continued make the bliss or the hell of eternity.' 'Hush, ' said the whisper; 'but the day, you assure me, is far off - very far! I go back to the almond and rose of Damascus! - sleep!' ("The House And The Brain

Edward Bulwer-Lytton
and-that-date-too-is-far-off-far-off-when-it-comes-think-your-end-in-this-world-is-at-hand-how-what-is-end-look-east-west-south-north-in-north-where-you-never-yet-trod-towards-po
Gentleman, ' I purr smoothly in greeting. Ezra and Cort circle me like sharks scenting blood. I know who they are, but not who is who since they're wearing black hoods over their heads. It covers them to the shoulder and has holes for the eyes and mouth. Their clothing is identical Italian designer label suits. Even their shoes are the same. Their eyes glow like steel ball-bearings from the safety of their masks. The mouths are different- one serious, one snarky- both ruby-red and kissable. While they circle Fate and me several times taking our measure, the other Master stands in a sphere of his own confidence. He's older and I don't mean just in age, but knowledge. Ezra and Cortez feel like babies compared to this man. I bet he's who I really have to impress. I wait, always meeting their eyes when their path moves them back to my face. I don't follow them with my gaze- I wait. 'Hello, ' the hood with the serious lips speaks in a smooth deep tone. I know it's not his true voice, but the one Kris calls The Boss. His eyes are kind and assessing. No one pays Fate any mind as she cowers at my thigh. I hold their undivided attention. Curly-locks is quiet- watchful- a predator sighting its quarry. Snarky mouth is leering at my chest and I smirk. Caught ya, Cortez Abernathy. 'I seem to be at a disadvantage conversing with you while you're hooded. I can't see you, but you can see me.' I try to get them to out themselves. It's a longshot. 'And who are you, Ma'am?' Ezra asks respectfully. 'Please call me Queen.' I draw on all of my lessons from Hillbrook to pull me through this conversation. The power in the air is stifling. I wonder if it's difficult for them to be in the same room without having a cage match for dominance. I feel like I'm on Animal Planet and the lions are circling. 'Queen, indeed, ' Cort says snidely under his breath and I wince. I turn my face from them in embarrassment. I should have gone with something less- less everything. I know I'm strong, but the word also emulates elegance and beauty. I'm neither. Have to say, tonight has sucked for my self-esteem. First, the dominant one overlooks me for Fate and now Cortez makes fun of me- lovely. 'What did you say to upset her?' Ezra accuses Cortez. 'Nothing, ' Cort complains in confusion. 'Please excuse my partner. Words are his profession and it seems they have failed him this evening. I will apologize for not sharing our names, but this gentleman is Dexter.' He gestures to the dominant man. I wait for him to shake my hand like a civilized person. He does not- he actually crosses his arms over his chest in disobedience. This shit is going to be a piece of cake.

Erica Chilson
gentleman-i-purr-smoothly-in-greeting-ezra-cort-circle-me-like-sharks-scenting-blood-i-know-who-they-are-but-not-who-is-who-since-theyre-wearing-black-hoods-over-their-heads-it-c
It was getting difficult to see exactly what was going on in the pool and a fourth officer jumped in as one came up with the unconscious form of the first cop. While others pulled the half-drowned man from the pool, three more wrestled Skorzeny to the surface and dragged him to the steps at the shallow end of the pool. He wasn't struggling any longer. Nor was he breathing with any apparent difficulty. The biggest of the three cops later admitted to punching him as hard as he could in the stomach and Skorzey doubled over. Another half-dragged him, still on his feet, shirt torn, jacket ripped, out of the pool and put a handcuff on his left wrist. Skorzeny pulled his arm away from the cop and, suddenly straightening, elbow-jabbed him in the gut, sending him sprawling and rolling back into the pool. Skorzeny turned toward the back fence and was now between the pool and a small palm tree. Before him were two advancing officers, pistols leveled. Behind him two more circled the pool. Skorzeny lunged forward and all fired simultaneously. The noise was deafening. Lights in neighboring houses began to go on. Skorzeny's body twitched and bucked as the heavy slugs ripped through his body. His forward momentum carried him into the officers ahead of him and he half-crawled, half-staggered to the southeast corner of the yard where another gate was set into the fiberglass fencing. Two more officers, across the pool, cut loose with their pistols, emptying them into this writing body which danced like a puppet. Another cop fired two shots from his pump-action shotgun and Skorzeny was lifted clean off his feet and slammed against the gate, sagging to the ground. En masse from both ends of the pool they advanced, when he gave out with a terrible hissing snarl and started to rise once more. All movement ceased as the cops, to a man, stood frozen in their tracks. Skorzeny stood there like some hideous caricature, his shredding clothing and skin hanging like limp rags from his scarecrow form. His flesh was ripped in several places and he was oozing something that looked like watered-down blood. It was pinkish and transparent. He stood there like a living nightmare. Then he straightened and raised his fist with the cuff still dangling from it like a charm bracelet. 'Fools!' he shrieked. 'You can't kill me. You can't even hurt me.' Overhead, the copter hovered, the copilot giving a blow-by-blow description of the fight over the radio. The police on the ground were paralyzed. Nearly thirty shots had been fired (the bullets later tallied in reports turned in by the participating officers) and their quarry was still as strong as ever. He'd been hit repeatedly in the head and legs, so a bulletproof vest wasn't the answer. And at distances sometimes as little as five feet, they could hardly have missed. They'd seen him hit. They stood frozen in an eerie tableau as the still roiling pool water threw weird reflections all over the yard. Then Skorzeny did the most frightening thing of all. He smiled. A red-rimmed, hideous grin revealing fangs that 'would have done justice to a Doberman Pinscher.

Jeff Rice
it-was-getting-difficult-to-see-exactly-what-was-going-on-in-pool-fourth-officer-jumped-in-as-one-came-up-with-unconscious-form-first-cop-while-others-pulled-halfdrowned-man-from
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