Quotes on Wood :: Finest Quotes

Wood Quotes

Without wood a fire goes out; without gossip a quarrel dies down

Bible

The best wood in most amateurs' bags is the pencil.

Unknown

A girls heart is like a dark wood

Russian Proverb

Sorrow is to the soul what the worm is to wood

Turkish Proverb

Bent metal is worse than bent wood and weight for weight is more flexible.

Lawrence Hargrave

If you seek, how is that different from pursuing sound and form? If you don't seek, how are you different from earth, wood, or stone? You must seek without seeking.

Fo-Yan

Most people don't realize that large pieces of coral, which have been painted brown and attached to the skull by common wood screws, can make a child look like a deer.

Jack Handy

Life is rich, always changing, always challenging, and we architects have the task of transmitting into wood, concrete, glass and steel, of transforming human aspirations into habitable and meaningful space.

Arthur Erickson

Remember, a chip on the shoulder is a sure sign of wood higher up.

Brigham Young

When I would recreate myself, I seek the darkest wood, the thickest and most interminable, and to the citizen, most dismal swamp. I enter a swamp as a sacred place - a sanctum sanctorum. There is the strength, the marrow of Nature.

Henry David Thoreau

In the middle of the journey of our life I came to myself within a dark wood where the straight way was lost.

Dante Alighieri

Age appears to be best in four things; old wood best to burn, old wine to drink, old friends to trust, and old authors to read.

Francis Bacon

Aim for the chopping block. If you aim for the wood, you will have nothing. Aim past the wood, aim through the wood; aim for the chopping block.

Annie Dillard

Once upon a time there was a piece of wood. It was not an expensive piece of wood. Far from it. Just a common block of firewood, one of those thick, solid logs that are put on the fire in winter to make cold rooms cozy and warm.

Carlo Collodi

The logs of wood which move down the river together Are driven apart by every wave. Such inevitable parting Should not be the cause of misery.

Nagarjuna

The savage bows down to IDOLS of wood and stone: the civilized man to IDOLS of flesh and blood.

George Bernard Shaw

Keep yourselves far from envy; it eateth up and taketh away good actions, like as fire eateth up and burneth wood

Muhammad

Returned me, oh sun, to my wild destiny, rain of the ancient wood, bringing me back to the aroma of swords that fall from the sky, the solitary peace of pasture and rock, the damp at the river-margins, the smell of the larch tree, the wind alive like a heart beating in the crowded restlessness of the towering araucaria. Earth, give me back your pure gifts, the towers of silence which rose from the solemnity of their roots. I want to go back to being what I have not been, and learn to go back from such deeps that amongst all natural things I could live or not live; it does not matter to be one stone more, the dark stone, the pure stone which the river bears away.

Pablo Neruda

Men are idolaters, and want something to look at and kiss and hug, or throw themselves down before; they always did, they always will, and if you don't make it of wood, you must make it of words.

Oliver Wendell Holmes

A bass should sound like a bass with the thump of the finger against the wood, like it began with stand up.

Suzi Quatro

A Mercury is not made out of any block of wood.

Unknown

Pure at heart: to be like a flower that blooms as gloriously, brilliantly in a secluded wild wood, not seen and praised.

Vanna Bonta

Without touch we are but hunks of wood.

Jim Morrison

What is more cheerful, now, in the fall of the year, than an open-wood-fire? Do you hear those little chirps and twitters coming out of that piece of apple-wood? Those are the ghosts of the robins and blue-birds that sang upon the bough when it was in blossom last Spring. In Summer whole flocks of them come fluttering about the fruit-trees under the window: so I have singing birds all the year round.

Thomas Bailey Aldrich

By mourning tongues The death of the poet was kept from his poems. But for him it was his last afternoon as himself, An afternoon of nurses and rumours; The provinces of his body revolted, The squares of his mind were empty, Silence invaded the suburbs. The current of his feeling failed: he became his admirers. Now he is scattered over a hundred cities And wholly given over to unfamiliar affections; To find his happiness in another kind of wood And be punished under a foreign code of conscience. The words of a dead man are modified in the guts of the living.

Wystan Hugh Auden

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