Celtic Stones Quotes

I'm letting ye court my sister. Give me your word that ye will nae tell anyone what ye saw, especially Anna."
Ceana shifted from foot to foot.
"What did ye see anyway?"
His eyes grew amused.l
"I didnae witness ye lock lips with the MacKay man, if that's what ye're asking. ~ Victoria Roberts

Sorcha curtseyed to Ronan and stalked past him.
Smiling the men cast glances her way, but didn't dare say a word.
Alban shook his head. "She is a hell cat, Ronan. Marry her and put us all out of our misery. ~ Terry Spear

Their bodies were in exquisite harmony with one another. A hunger inched through her veins, rousing her to the peak of desire. She wanted to yield to the burning sweetness that was captive within her.
The passion of his ardor mounted, and she finally abandoned herself to the whirl of sensations. Love flowed into her like warm molten honey, shattering her into a million glowing stars. ~ Victoria Roberts

The hound was a problem. Protective of her mistress, aye, but also seemingly determined to throw them together. Gavan shook his head. Now, there was a silly though. A matchmaking deerhound. ~ Willa Blair

He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it. "Are you certain your clan will allow us to marry?"
She dried her eyes. "Aye, I believe they will." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "After all, you have compromised me."
He sent her a broad grin. "Aye, and I cannot wait to do that again, m'lady. ~ Vonda Sinclair

Do ye trust me enough to follow me up the hill and see if the hot spring truly exists?"
"As cold as my toes are, I'd be willing to follow you if you said there was a fire lit by a dragon."
Catriona let out a little laugh. "We have only fairies here, ye can keep your dragons." Samuel winked.
"Which is mightier?"
"I'm surprised ye wouldn't think a dragon, sir," she said, steering her horse around the tall stones and then up the slippery slope behind them.
"Fairies have magic."
"And dragons have fire."
..."Fire is not always more potent than magic," Samuel called. ~ Eliza Knight

Heat stole over her for she suspected he might be trying to charm her, and she was not immune. 'Twould be too easy to fall under his spell. "I've already given you food. You are mighty demanding for a prisoner."
A grin quirked his lips. "There is something I want from you after I'm free." She was afraid to ask, but she had to know. "And what is that?"
"A kiss. ~ Vonda Sinclair

We exist in a bizarre combination of Stone Age emotions, medieval beliefs, and god-like technology. ~ E. O. Wilson

Jesus's first temptation was to be relevant: to turn stones into bread. Oh, how often I wished I could do that! ~ Mike Ditka

In precious opals there might be a dash of red here, a seductive swirl of blue there, and in the center, perhaps, a flirtatious glance of green. But each stone flickers with a unique fire and a good opal is one with an opinion of its own. ~ Victoria Finlay

Idris had been green and gold and russet in the autumn, when Clary had first been there. It had a stark grandeur in the winter: the mountains rose in the distance, capped white with snow, and the trees along the side of the road that led back to Alicante from the lake were stripped bare, their leafless branches making lace-like patterns against the bright sky.
Sometimes Jace would slow the horse to point out the manor houses of the richer Shadowhunter families, hidden from the road when the trees were full but revealed now. She felt his shoulders tense as they passed one that nearly melded with the forest around it: it had clearly been burned and rebuilt. Some of the stones still bore the black marks of smoke and fire. "The Blackthorn manor," he said. "Which means that around this bend in the road is …" He paused as Wayfarer summited a small hill, and reined him in so they could look down to where the road split in two. One direction led back toward Alicante - Clary could see the demon towers in the distance - while the other curled down toward a large building of mellow golden stone, surrounded by a low wall. " … the Herondale manor," Jace finished.
The wind picked up; icy, it ruffled Jace's hair. Clary had her hood up, but he was bare-headed and bare-handed, having said he hated wearing gloves when horseback riding. He liked to feel the reins in his hands. "Did you want to go and look at it?" she asked.
His breath came out in a white cloud. "I'm not sure. ~ Cassandra Clare

Is the NAFTA a stepping stone toward the New World Order? Absolutely! ~ Kent Hovind

When you do your research write down whatever interests you. Whatever stimulates your imagination. Whatever seems important. A story is built like a stone wall. Not all the stones will fit. Some will have to be discarded. Some broken and reshaped. When you finish the wall it may not look exactly like the wall you envisioned, but it will keep the livestock in and the predators out. (pg. 144) ~ Roland Smith

Ah, my dear friend Hassim, seems our paths cross once again, how fortunate for this humble Sheik." As Abdullah spoke in his usual self deprecating manner I realized that a favor was on the tip of his tongue and that I was about to be offered a quid-pro-quo.

We were sitting crossed legged on large fat pillows with gold fringe. The tent was large with partitions dividing living, sleeping and cooking space. It was made from heavy cotton canvas erected on thick poles in the center giving the structure a peaked circus tent appearance. The women serving us were young, wearing harem pants low on their hips with cropped gauze tops made from sheer silk. Their exposed midriffs were flat and toned, their belly buttons were decorated in precious stones that glittered in the torch light as they moved. They were bare footed with stacks of gold ankle bracelets making the only sound we heard as they kept our glasses filled with fresh sweet tea and our communal serving trays piled high with dates and sugar incrusted sweets of undetermined origin.

Abdullah took no notice of these women, his nonchalance intrigued me as I was obviously having trouble keeping my mind focused on the discussion at hand, this was all part of the Arab way, when it came to negotiation they had no peers.

"So my dear friend, tell me, the region is on fire is there a solution?"

I spoke in a deliberate and flat tone, little emotion just concern, one friend to another.

Nick Hahn

Constant dropping wears away stones ~ Benjamin Franklin

Hunter scored a total beauty in the third," Hollis says from his stool. "I almost came in my pants."

"Don't be crude in front of the baby," I say immediately.

"Bro, you brought a baby to a bar. Go throw glass stones in your own house." When everyone snickers, Hollis is visibly confused. "What?"

"That's not the phrase," Hannah says helpfully.

"Sure it is."

"It's really not."

Hollis waves a hand. "You know nothing, Jon Snow. ~ Elle Kennedy

Git'er Done
They beat their swords upon their shields
To no beast or man would they yield ~ Muse

I play because my loneliness is very great, very deep- I fear it has no bottom at all! I stand on the edge of an abyss and hurl words, many heavy words, into it, but they fall without a sound. I hurl into it laughter, threats and moans. I spit into it. I fling into it heaps of stones and rocks. I throw mountains into it- ant still it remains silent and empty. ~ Leonid Andreyev

Time heals nothing. Wounds fester and ooze. Life drags you by a rope over rocks and stones and one day you look up, look back, and see you've been used to cut a path, mark a trail. ~ Bob Thurber

About these homes and at the intersections of the roads in this nomadic "city" are the gardens. Each is unique. One may center around an unusually shaped stump or an arrangement of stones or a graceful bit of wood. They may contain fragrant herbs or bright flowers or any combination of plants. One notable one has at its heart a bubbling spring of steaming water. Here grow plants with fleshy leaves and exotically scented flowers, denizens of some warmer clime brought here to delight the Mountain-dwellers with their mystery. Often visitors leave gifts in the gardens when they depart, a wooden carving or a graceful pot or perhaps merely an arrangement of bright pebbles. The gardens belong to no one, and all tend them. At ~ Robin Hobb

Is that the end ... of all the races and civilizations, and the dreams of the world, to be able to leave a few stones buried beneath the sands, to tell the Dark that we were here? ~ C.J. Cherryh

Chords reel and the mind reels,
and for all I know
The minds of the Gods reel as well
For if the Gods have minds
They must be attuned to music and to harmony.
Harmony is but the pulse of Chaos
And to such pulsation
Even stones resound. ~ Tobeimean Peter

The ascendancy over men's minds of the ruins of the stupendous past, the past of history, legend and myth, at once factual and fantastic, stretching back and back into ages that can but be surmised, is half-mystical in basis. The intoxication, at once so heady and so devout, is not the romantic melancholy engendered by broken towers and mouldered stones; it is the soaring of the imagination into the high empyrean where huge episodes are tangled with myths and dreams; it is the stunning impact of world history on its amazed heirs. ~ Rose Macaulay

I used to believe that the number eight is unlucky for me and would even avoid anything that would add up to 8 - like 17, 26 and so on. I would religiously visit astrologers and wear different stones to bring in good luck. ~ Emraan Hashmi

The writing of a poem is like a child throwing stones into a mineshaft. You compose first, then you listen for the reverberation. ~ James Fenton

The Czech Republic, severed from its old Slovak half, sits in apparent landlocked contentment, inside the European Union but outside the troubled Euro Zone, set into the new Continental mosaic like one of the small sturdy paving stones, just a few inches square, that form the sidewalks under the visitor's ambling feet. ~ Thomas Mallon

Little stones that are pelted into the lake of consciousness should not throw the whole lake into commotion. ~ Paramahansa Yogananda

We don't want to be Mick Jagger and the Rolling Stones. That type of thing wasn't what we were after. It was most important for each of us to be equal in input and output - each of us has to pull the same amount, musically, in composition and in every sense of being in the band. ~ Neil Peart

If we can practice opening to the crises in our personal lives as teaching moments, as evolutionary stepping stones, we will be far better prepared emotionally and spiritually for the trauma that collapse will foist on us and everyone around us. ~ Carolyn Baker

The Sanscrit language, whatever be its antiquity, is of a wonderful structure; more perfect than the Greek, more copious than the Latin, and more exquisitely refined than either, yet bearing to both of them a stronger affinity, both in the roots of verbs and the forms of grammar, than could possibly have been produced by accident; so strong indeed, that no philologer could examine them all three, without believing them to have sprung from some common source, which, perhaps, no longer exists; there is a similar reason, though not quite so forcible, for supposing that both the Gothic and the Celtic, though blended with a very different idiom, had the same origin with the Sanscrit; and the old Persian might be added to the same family. ~ William Jones

Being a stand-up comic, this isn't a stepping-stone for me; it's what I do, and this is what I'm always going to do. And even if I do a TV show, the only reasons to do a TV show is to get more people to know me to come out to my stand-up shows. ~ Bill Burr

Your lingering presence erodes me. Heartbeat by heartbeat. Cell by aging cell. Washing away any sense of self I ever had. Intruding into a nothingness I've struggled to find the pieces to fill. A jar filled with stones, piled with pebbles, topped with sand, only to be left with the knowledge that water, with enough time and persistence, has the power to wash it all away.
Your name is on my lips. Frozen. A familiar cadence of syllables that once soothed me.
A name I can't speak. Can't think of.
Not on this shore, at our lake. Not on this day. When only a year ago, with a foreshadowing that is now ice in my veins, you stood next to me, in this jacket, your hand in mine, so warm, and stared out at this expanse and whispered in awe, This is what a cold lake looks like. ~ S.A. McAuley

Just what did happen to a corpse under water for four, five years, even three? the tarpaulin or canvas would rot, perhaps more than half of it would disappear; the stones would likely have fallen out, therefore, enabling the corpse to drift more easily, even rise a little, provided any flesh was left. But wasn't rising due to bloating? Tom thought of the word maceration, the flaking off in layers of the outer skin. Then what? The nibbling of fish? Or wouldn't the current have removed pieces of flesh until nothing but bones were left? The bloated period must be long past ... ~ Patricia Highsmith

I am a star in the firmament
that observe the world, despises the world
and consumed in its heat.
I am the sea by night in a storm
the sea shouting that accumulates new sins
and to the ancient makes recompense.
I am exiled from your world
of pride polite, by pride defrauded,
I am the king without crown.
I am the passion without words
without stones of the hearth, without weapons in the war,
is my same force that make me sick ~ Hermann Hesse

Every day the material world mistreats me. My sensibility is like a flame in the wind. I walk down the street and I see in the faces of the passers-by, not their real expressions, but the expressions they would wear if they knew about my life and how I am, if the ridiculous, timid abnormality of my soul were made transparent in my gestures and in my face. In the eyes that avoid mine I suspect a mockery I find only natural, aimed at the inelegant exception I represent in a world that takes pleasure in things and in activity and, in the depths of these passing physiognomies, I imagine and interpose an awareness of the timid nature of my life that sparks off guffaws of laughter. After thinking this, I try in vain to convince myself that I alone am the source of this idea of other people's mockery and mild opprobrium. But once objectified in others, I can no longer reclaim the image of myself as a figure of fun. I feel myself grow suddenly vague and hesitant in a hothouse rife with ridicule and animosity. From the depths of their soul, everyone points a finger at me. Everyone who passes stones me with merry insolence. I walk amongst enemy ghosts that my sick imagination has conjured up and planted inside real people. Everything jabs and jeers at me. And sometimes, in the middle of the road - unobserved, after all - I stop and hesitate, seeking a sudden new dimension, a door onto the interior of space, onto the other side of space, where without delay I might flee my awareness of ~ Fernando Pessoa

If a woman shows too often the Medusa's head, she must not be astonished if her lover is turned into stone. ~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

And Ásta Sóllilja, it was she who swept on wings of poetry into those spheres which she had sensed as if in distant murmur one spring night last year when she was reading about the little girl who journeyed over the seven mountains; and the distant murmur had suddenly swelled to a song in her ears, and her soul found here for the first time its origin and its descent; happiness, fate, sorrow, she understood them all; and many other things. When a man looks at a flowering plant growing slender and helpless up in the wilderness among a hundred thousand stones, and he has found this plant only by chance, then he asks: Why is it that life is always trying to burst forth? Should one pull up this plant and use it to clean one's pipe? No, for this plant also broods over the limitation and the unlimitation of all life, and lives in the love of the good beyond these hundred thousand stones, like you and me; water it with care, but do not uproot it, maybe it is little Ásta Sóllilja. ~ Halldor Laxness

Every time you read something about Rolling Stones it always mentions their age and how long can they go on? I think there are certain genres of music where people are allowed to go on, but there is something about rock and roll, I guess because it originally started out to be a teenage rebellion. ~ Kate Pierson

I sometimes think my vision of the sea is the clearest thing I own. I pick it up, exile that I am, like the purple 'lucky stones' I used to collect with a white ring all the way round, or the shell of a blue mussel with its rainbowy angel's fingernail interior; and in one wash of memory the colors deepen and gleam, the early world draws breath. ~ Sylvia Plath

Gyms are always packed. The only machine available is the one that simulates the gynecological exam. You know, the Sharon Stone machine. ~ Jim Gaffigan

We [-women and men-] are all equal in our creaturehood, whatever our sex, color, age, background, or abilities. But we are all different in the functions we were created to perform, as different as water from stones, and engineering from imaginative fiction. ~ Mary McDermott Shideler

You cannot expect stone to be as pliable as clay. ~ Anne Bronte

Poetry is a special use of language that opens onto the real. The business of the poet is truth telling, which is why in the Celtic tradition no one could be a teacher unless he or she was a poet. ~ Huston Smith

Like almost all of Beefheart's recorded work, [Trout Mask Replica] was not even "ahead" of its time in 1969. Then and now, it stands outside time, trends, fads, hypes, the rise and fall of whole genres eclectic as walking Christmas trees, constituting a genre unto itself: truly, a musical Monolith if ever there was one. ~ Lester Bangs

Celtic is a community institution the supporters are entitled to be proud of. ~ Fergus McCann

I don't have a problem with green screen at all. I think children invented CGI. We invent worlds. A stick can become a sword. Or a bowl of stones can become a bowl of tomatoes. That's what children do, and that's what CGI enables us to do. ~ Rhys Ifans

As long as we keep our native language on our tongue, we will penetrate so much more deeply the distinctiveness of each language. Here we will find gaps, there superfluity; here riches, there a desert, and we will be able to enrich the poverty of the one with the treasures of the other. For, in what precise relationship do language and mentality stand? Whoever masters the entire scope of one language surveys a field full of thoughts, and whoever learns to express himself precisely in it thereby gathers for himself a treasure of clear concepts. The first words we stammer are the foundation stones of our knowing, and our nurse-maids are our first teachers of logic. ~ Johann Gottfried Herder

Your hand is a warm stone I hold between two words. ~ Margaret Atwood

In a suitable temperature, an egg becomes a chicken, and there are no chickens born of stones. ~ Mao Zedong

Humility means accepting reality with no attempt to outsmart it. ~ David Richo

Then they grow away from the earth then they grow away from the sun then they grow away from the plants and the animals. They see no life. When they look they see only objects. The world is a dead thing for them the trees and the rivers are not alive. the mountains and stones are not alive. The deer and bear are objects. They see no life. They fear. They fear the world. They destroy what they fear. They fear themselves. ~ Leslie Marmon Silko

I alternate between thinking of the planet as home - dear and familiar stone hearth and garden - and as a hard land of exile in which we are all sojourners. ~ Annie Dillard

Sonnet XII: There is a Meetinghouse across the wold

There is a Meetinghouse across the wold
Near shaded churchyard where pine breezes sigh;
Such sacred mem'ries gently here unfold
Of rustic folk whom 'neath the yew trees lie.
Engraved on stones now crum'ling in the earth,
Of souls asleep for o'er a hundred years,
Foretell unceasing cycles - Death and Birth
That yew tree nods and weeps her unseen tears.
But God shall guide us through the gloom of night
Victorious over grim reaper's blade,
As yet we grasp to see eternal light
Amidst life's fickle joys which here do fade.
Victims of Death by lusty scythe bannish'd
Triumphant wake to find nightmares vanish'd!

13 February, 2013 ~ Timothy Salter