Strietmann Metal Box Quotes

#1. I guess you get to a point where you look at that pain as if it were in front of you three feet away lying in a box, an open box, in a window somewhere. It's hard and cold, like a bar of metal. You just look at it there and say, Alright, I'll take it, I'll buy it. That's what it is. #Quote by Lydia Davis

#2. You know, there's no need for you to stay here against your will. You could come home."
Kestrel splattered oil onto Cheat's feet and smeared it into the rough skin. "No. There's nothing there I want."
She felt his gaze on her bowed head, on her hands moving over his feet. "Do you do this for Arin?"
"No."
"What do you do for him?"
Kestrel straightened. Her palms were greasy. She rubbed them into her skirts, not caring that disgust was at least one of the things Cheat wanted to see.
Why, why would he want that?
She turned to leave.
"We're not done," he said.
"We are," said Kestrel, "unless you'd like to see how much my father taught me about unarmed combat. I'll drown you in that fountain. If I can't, I'll scream loud enough to bring every Herrani in this house running, and make them wonder what kind of man their leader is, that a Valorian girl so easily snapped his self-control."
She walked away, and he didn't follow, though she felt his eyes on her until she turned a corner. She found the kitchens, the most populated place in the house, and stood by a fire, listening to the metal clatter of kettles. She ignored the strange looks.
Then she was shaking, as much with fury as anything else.
Tell Arin.
Kestrel waved that thought away. What good would telling Arin do?
Arin was a black box hidden below a smooth tile. A trap door opening beneath her. He wasn't what she'd thought he was.
Maybe Arin had known th #Quote by Marie Rutkoski

#3. Do you play cards?"
Her lips tingled from the light kiss, "In theory. Why? Do you have a hankering for Old Maid?" She teased, flashing him a smile.
He placed his glass down and reached for an intricate metal crafted box. "Not even close. How about a little strip poker? #Quote by Beth Mikell

#4. I can see you have a great deal of water in your personality. Water never waits. It changes shape and flows around things, and finds the secret paths no one else has thought about
the tiny hole through the roof or the bottom of the box. There's no doubt it's the most versatile of the five elements. It can wash away earth; it can put out fire; it can wear a piece of metal down and sweep it away. Even wood, which is its natural complement, can't survive without being nurtured by water. And yet, you haven't drawn on those strengths in living your life, have you? #Quote by Arthur Golden

#5. Lola's was not exactly a bar. It was a small beer-and-soda joint. There was a Coca-Cola box full of beer and soda and ice at the left of the door as you came in. A counter with tube-metal stools covered in yellow glazed leather ran down one side of the room as far as the jukebox. Tables were lined along the wall opposite the counter. The stools had long since lost the rubber caps for the legs and made horrible screeching noises when the maid pushed them around to sweep. There was a kitchen in back, where a slovenly cook fried everything in rancid fat. There was neither past nor future in Lola's. The place was a waiting room, where certain people checked in at certain times. #Quote by William S. Burroughs

#6. Toast is when you take a piece of bread - What is bread? Bread is when you take some flour - What is flour? We'll skip that part, it's too complicated. Bread is something you can eat, made from a ground-up plant and shaped like a stone. You cook it ... Please, why do you cook it? Why don't you just eat the plant? Never mind that part - Pay attention. You cook it, and then you cut it into slices, and you put a slice into a toaster, which is a metal box that heats up with electricity - What is electricity? Don't worry about that. While the slice is in the toaster, you get out the ... #Quote by Margaret Atwood

#7. Remain Healthy All Day: Drink a spoonful of oil every morning. Reach up with your arms and extend your body to its full height. Use a warm towel to dry the cat. Consider a philosophical idea larger than your area of expertise. Avoid getting cancer. Chalk up bad decisions to outside influences. Don't take your father too seriously. Play a game where you close your eyes very tightly, and when you open your eyes, you have amnesia and you must draw the details of your life from your surroundings. Give up smoking, drinking, and poetic verse. Remind yourself how important you are to your friends or at least your animals. Wax the floor in socks. Enter into a healthy, monogamous relationship. Consider briefly the idea of a soulmate. Light an entire box of matches and throw it into the sink. Hold a metal rod to the heavens and beg for whatever comes next. #Quote by Amelia Gray

#8. You're fast. Like, inhumanly fast," I hissed at him, ripping open a box of Jelly Belly's.
"Keep your voice down," he admonished me, scooping up bags of gummies to slide onto pegs.
"My voice is down," I shot back in a harsh whisper. "And you're avoiding."
"I just wanted to make sure you were all right. I shouldn't have left you alone like that when you could have been in shock."
"I'm fine," I told him quietly, the rage slowly escaping. "But, I want answers."
He sighed, leaning his head briefly against the metal shelf. "This is not the place."
Pausing for a moment to take in my surroundings, a laugh bubbled up, catching us both by surprise. Sobering immediately, I shot him a sharp look.
"Name the right place, then. We're going to have a real talk."
Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and I realized he was as riled up as I was.
"After work," he finally responded, spinning on a heal to exit the aisle, leaving a half empty box of skittles in his wake. #Quote by Ana Ban

#9. People drive by in their colorful convertibles with the roof down, looking all relaxed and friendly, as if you might stroll up to them while they're pausing at the light and start a conversation. It's the opposite of Britain, where everyone's in their own self-contained metal box, swearing at the rain. #Quote by Sophie Kinsella

#10. P.I.L. has been a favorite of mine since high school especially there metal box album. The guitarist Keith Levine gets some of the best sounds ever to come out of a guitar. The songs are really free form and experimental and have a heavy dub influence. #Quote by Marcel Dzama

#11. Write about an empty birdcage"

Write about an empty birdcage. As in: write about your ribcage after
robbery. Use negative space to wind a song from the place on the
dresser where a music box isn't. Write about the corners where the two
of you used to meet. Draw the intersections, arrow to the sidewalk
where her shoes aren't near yours. Write about

an empty birdcage. As in: write about a hinged-open
jaw that is neither sigh nor scream. Use this to signify
EXIT. Make sure to describe the teeth, the glint of
metal deep down in the molars, the smell of breath after lack of
water. Make sure to draw this mouth a thirsty and human portrait of
what it means to be used up. Write about voice by writing

about how it feels when it's painful to swallow. If you must put noise
in the scene
make it the sound of bird wings flapping in a cardboard box. Show us
an empty cage and give us the sound of confinement. Take hope and fold
it small as seed, then suck on it. Slow and selfish. Write about an
empty birdcage. Birdcage can read: building, structure, abandoned or
adorned. As in:

loop and tighten a vine of nostalgia around the room
you currently brick yourself into. Recreate the sweet of jasmine, but
mortar the door so it will not seep through. Write about an empty
birdcage. Replay us the scene. As in: she presses her pale cheek
against the window, as he t #Quote by Elaina M. Ellis

#12. One day, when my body is six feet under and covered in dirt and grass, when my skin has turned to ash, and all I am is dust in a wood and metal box, I will still be someone you loved once. And that will be enough. It will have to be. #Quote by Whitney Barbetti

#13. Water never waits. It changes shape and floes around things, and finds the secret paths no one else thought about __ the tiny hole through the roof or the bottom of a box. There's no doubt it's the most versatile of the five elements. It can wash away earth, it can put out fire; it can wear a piece of metal down and can sweep it away. Even wood, which is its natural complement, can'survive without being nurtured by water. #Quote by Arthur Golden

#14. During a mock battle attended by President Warren Harding in 1921, Marine Corps General Smedley D. Butler exhumed the arm [of Stonewall Jackson; he didn't believe it was buried there] and reburied it in a metal box. #Quote by Tony Horwitz

#15. Felicia had never seen such beads before, neither of glass nor of metal, not of jade either, she thought; of stone or baked clay, rather, opaque, in mysteriously tender and quenched colors: orange ocher, golden brown, some touched with black; so subdued of hue - melancholy almost, as if there was something of autumn in that little box woven from leaves, something of passing and dying. #Quote by Maria Dermout

#16. And then he did rise from his wheelchair. But there was something odd about the way he did it. His blanket fell away from his legs, but the legs didn't move. His waist kept getting longer, rising above his belt. At first, I thought he was wearing very long, white velvet underwear, but as he kept rising out of the chair, taller than any man, I realized that the velvet underwear wasn't underwear; it was the front of an animal, muscle and sinew under coarse white fur. And the wheelchair wasn't a chair. It was some kind of container, an enormous box on wheels, and it must've been magic, because there's no way it could've held all of him. A leg came out, long and knobby-kneed, with a huge polished hoof. Then another front leg, then hindquarters, and then the box was empty, nothing but a metal shell with a couple of fake human legs attached. #Quote by Rick Riordan

#17. Images of broken light dance behind my eyelids. How could this giant lamp compare to the sun?
Everything is wrong here. Shattered. Broken.
Like the light.
Like me.
I never thought about how important the sky was until I didn't have one.
I am surrounded by walls.
I have just replaced one box for another. #Quote by Beth Revis

#18. She sits and listens with crossed legs under the batik house-wrap she wears, with her heavy three-way-piled hair and cigarette at her mouth and refuses me - for the time being, anyway - the most important things I ask of her.

It's really kind of tremendous how it all takes place. You'd never guess how much labor goes into it. Only some time ago it occurred to me how great an amount. She came back from the studio and went to take a bath, and from the bath she called out to me, "Darling, please bring me a towel." I took one of those towel robes that I had bought at the Bon Marche' department store and came along with it. The little bathroom was in twilight. In the auffe-eua machine, the brass box with teeth of gas
burning, the green metal dropped crumbs inside from the thousand-candle blaze. Her body with its warm woman's smell was covered with water starting in a calm line over her breasts. The glass of the medicine chest shone (like a deep blue place in the wall, as if a window to the evening sea and not the ashy fog of Paris. I sat down with the robe over my; shoulder and felt very much at peace. For a change the apartment seemed clean and was warm; the abominations were gone into the background, the stoves drew well and they shone. Jacqueline was cooking dinner and it smelled of gravy. I felt settled and easy, my chest free and my fingers comfortable and open. And now here's the thing. It takes a time like this for you to find out how sore your heart has bee #Quote by Saul Bellow

#19. To do an extreme metal record is something that is well within my capacity as a musician to write stuff out of the box, write stuff that's probably more extreme than the band I'm in at the present time, and it's something that needs to come out of me one way or another. #Quote by Phil Anselmo

#20. If I must die young, bury me
in a music box. I'll be the pale ballerina with dirt
in her hair. Attach my painless feet to metal springs
and open the lid when you visit.

Watch me rise and pirouette, my arms overhead tickling
the dark night's belly until I'm dizzy, until the stars
melt and spiral into a halo over my head
and I've stirred my death into the sky. #Quote by Jalina Mhyana

#21. The last time I saw Collin was in 1917, at the foot of Mort-Homme.

Before the great slaughter, Collin'd been an avid angler. On that day, he was standing at the hole, watching maggots swarm among blow flies on two boys that we couldn't retrieve for burial without putting our own lives at risk.

And there, at the loop hole, he thought of his bamboo rods, his flies and the new reel he hadn't even tried out yet.

Collin was imaging himself on the riverbank, wine cooling in the current his stash of worms in a little metal box and a maggot on his hook, writhing like… Holy shit. Were the corpses getting to him?

Collin. The poor guy didn't even have time to sort out his thoughts.

In that split second, he was turned into a slab of bloody meat. A white hot hook drilled right through him and churned through his guts, which spilled out of a hole in his belly.

He was cleared out of the first aid station. The major did triage. Stomach wounds weren't worth the trouble. There were all going to die anyway, and besides, he wasn't equipped to deal with them.

Behind the aid station, next to a pile of wood crosses, there was a heap of body parts and shapeless, oozing human debris laid out on stretchers, stirred only be passing rats and clusters of large white maggots.

But on their last run, the stretcher bearers carried him out after all… Old Collin was still alive.

From the aid station to the ambu #Quote by Jacques Tardi

#22. He had simply typed the words something beautiful into the Google images box. Up came a picture of some leaves against the sun. A picture of a blonde photoshop-smooth woman and baby sleeping. A picture of a bird. A picture of Mother Teresa. A picture of a modernist building made of shiny metal. A picture of two people sticking knives into their own hands. Google is so strange. It promises everything, but everything isn't there. You type in the words for what you need, and what you need becomes superfluous in an instant, shadowed instantaneously by the things you really need, and none of them answerable by Google #Quote by Ali Smith

#23. Arin said, "If I win, I will ask a question, and you will answer."
She felt a nervous flutter. "I could lie. People lie."
"I'm willing to risk it."
"If those are your stakes, then I assume my prize would be the same."
"If you win."
She still could not quite agree. "Questions and answers are highly irregular stakes in Bite and Sting," she said irritably.
"Whereas matches make the perfect ante, and are so exciting to win and lose."
"Fine." Kestrel tossed the box to the carpet, where it landed with a muffled sound.
Arin didn't look satisfied or amused or anything at all. He simply drew his hand. She did the same. They played in intent concentration, and Kestrel was determined to win.
She didn't.
"I want to know," Arin said, "why you are not already a soldier."
Kestrel couldn't have said what she had thought he would ask, but this was not it, and the question recalled years of arguments she would rather forget. She was curt. "I'm seventeen. I'm not yet required by law to enlist or marry."
He settled back in his chair, toying with one of his winning pieces. He tapped a thin side against the table, spun the tile in his fingers, and tapped another side. "That's not a full answer."
"I don't think we specified how short or long these answers should be. Let's play again."
"If you win, will you be satisfied with the kind of answer you have given me?"
Slowly, she said, "The military is my father's life. Not mine. #Quote by Marie Rutkoski

#24. The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Philosopher's Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The Stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal. There #Quote by J.K. Rowling

#25. Using freshman level calculus you can show that the one and only shape that has the smallest surface area for an enclosed volume is a perfect sphere. In fact, billions of dollars could be saved annually on packaging materials if all shipping boxes and all packages of food in the supermarket were spheres. For example, the contents of a super-jumbo box of Cheerios would fit easily into a spherical carton with a four-and-half inch radius. But practical matters prevail - nobody wants to chase packaged food down the aisle after it rolls off the shelves. #Quote by Neil DeGrasse Tyson

#26. He paused, then tapped a finger against the box. "This is a wish," he said quietly, "that even after four hundred years of existence, a man can be strong enough to accept the gifts he's given."
"Ethan - ," I began, but he shook his head.
"I'm prepared to wait for a positive response."
"That's going to take a while."
Ethan lifted a single eyebrow, a grin lifting one corner of his mouth. "Sentinel, I am immortal. #Quote by Chloe Neill

#27. One of my prized possessions is a small wooden box with a special lock on it that is more than five hundred years old and works according to a secret code that my grandfather taught me. My grandfather learned it from his grandfather, and his grandfather learned it from his grandfather, and I would teach it to my grandchild if I thought that I would ever have a family of my own instead of living out the remainder of my days all alone in this world. #Quote by Lemony Snicket

#28. THE GIRL IN THE BOX BOOK ONE Robert J. Crane #Quote by Robert J. Crane

#29. The central ceremony of Ritual Witchcraft was the so-called "Sabbath" - a word of unknown origin having no relation to its Hebrew homonym. Sabbaths were celebrated four times a year - on Candlemass Day, February 2nd, on Rood Mass Day, May 1st, on Lammas Day, August 1st, and on the eve of All Hallows, October 31st. These were great festivals, often attended by hundreds of devotees, who came from considerable distances. Between Sabbaths there were weekly "Esbats" from small congregations in the village where the ancient religion was still practiced. At all high Sabbaths the devil himself was invariably present, in the person of some man who had inherited, or otherwise acquired, the honor of being the incarnation of the two-faced god of the Dianic cult. The worshipers paid homage to the god by kissing his reverse face - a mask worn, beneath an animal's tail, on the devil's backside. There was then, for some at least of the female devotees, a ritual copulation with the god, who was equipped for this purpose with an artificial phallus of horn or metal. This ceremony was followed by a picnic (for the Sabbaths were celebrated out of doors, near sacred trees or stones), by dancing and finally by a promiscuous sexual orgy that had, no doubt, originally been a magical operation for increasing the fertility of the animals on which primitive hunters and herdsmen depend for their livelihood. The prevailing atmosphere at the Sabbaths was one of good fellowship and mindless, animal joy. Whe #Quote by Aldous Huxley

#30. The experience of life that you and I have is pretty much a jigsaw puzzle in the box: Day-to-day experiences of disconnected pieces that don't seem to justify the efforts we make each day. #Quote by Robert Adams