Weber sandstone a billion years old. This rock was Precambrian, I read, a term like postmodern, suggesting that what it names is so mysterious as to require identification by what it isn’t.
He hesitated, remembering something Finnikin had said to him on their journey. That somehow, even in the worst of times, the tiniest fragments of good survive. It was the grip in which one held those fragments that counted.
But then Froi looked back to where his work lay unfinished and it made him sad because there had been something about the touch of earth in his hands that made him feel worthwhile.
Which God is the forgiving one, exactly? Old Testament, where He got His rocks off by smiting? Or New Testament, once Our Heavenly Father got Prozac?
And then he'd tried to become an official Atheist and hadn't got the rock-hard self-satisfied strength of belief even for that.
Instead of Rock, Paper, Scissors, you could play Brick, Blanket, Action Fingers, in which brick cripples action fingers, blanket smothers brick and action fingers beats blanket.
The man on the rock had pitched five outs in the losing game, and had given up two runs on a single. But he’d inherited loaded bases. The story of his life. The story of all our lives.
If wearing the Spanx helps you get looks, and you feel that energy and response, and you're rocking your body with confidence, that's still how you'll feel about yourself when you get home and take the Spanx off... If your attitude improves from the ...
My listening changed when I heard music from Stax, Atlantic, Motown because by that age I thought anything that my parents listened to must be square. So I had to find my own rock n' roll, as it were, and I found it in black soul music.
Here we are, we're alone in the universe, there's no God, it just seems that it all began by something as simple as sunlight striking on a piece of rock. And here we are. We've only got ourselves. Somehow, we've just got to make a go of it. We've onl...
It's usually a big kind of vent of frustration or anger or sadness that puts me in the right frame of mind to write. It's such a cliche to say that artists write when they're down, but it's true for me. It's a relief to get out what's eating away at ...
I'm a happy member of the church. I'm proud of it and defend it. It makes me bold and gives me confidence. I feel I know the answer to life - that it's all about. If you're not searching for the answer to life, you have more time to make art. It's a ...
Once the subject matter of rock n' roll changed from cars and pop love songs to songs about really true love and the blues and death and mortality, this light bulb went off in my head and I went, 'Oh, that's what they're doing. That's kind of - that'...
We are so fortunate, as Australians, to have among us the oldest continuing cultures in human history. Cultures that link our nation with deepest antiquity. We have Aboriginal rock art in the Kimberley that is as ancient as the great Palaeolithic cav...
As one veteran Russian pilot dryly told me:"We have to be very careful flying in the clouds. Around here they are full of rocks.
There has always been Darkness, just as there has always been Light. Neither can ever be completely destroyed, only driven away or contained, because neither can exist without the other. Without Darkness, there is no Light, and vice versa.
So when he touched me, it was deeper and slower than the wildfire, like the flow of molten rock far beneath the surface of the earth. Too deep to feel the heat of it, but it moved inexorably, changing the very foundations of the world with its advanc...
The Lord is my rock, and my fortress, and my deliverer; My God, my strength, in whom I will trust; My shield, and the horn of my salvation; my stronghold.
Sometimes a name seems our most arbitrary possession, and sometimes it seems like the grain in a rock like a sculptor's hunk of Italian marble: Whack it and you might get either your first glimpse of a saint or a pile of rubble.
Remind me to show you the latest e-mail from Courtney," he said now, kicking at a rock on the sidewalk. "You won't believe how many different incorrect ways she spelled hors d'oeuvres within the span of a single paragraph.
Darling Daddy, This is Rose. The shed needs new wires now it has blown up. Caddy is bringing home rock-bottom boyfriends to see if they will do for Mummy. Instead of you. Love, Rose.
