Top 20 Fireplace Quotes

My living room has an oak-wood floor, Persian carpets, floor-to-ceiling bookcases, a large ficus and large fern, a fireplace with a group of photographs and drawings over it, a glass-top coffee table with a bowl of dried pomegranates on it, and sofas and chairs covered in off-white linen.

I say to myself that I shall try to make my life like an open fireplace, so that people may be warmed and cheered by it and so go out themselves to warm and cheer.

There were periods when I sometimes made fires in a large, open fireplace that lasted about two weeks, which was how long it took to burn my compositions. So there has been an awful lot that I have destroyed.

The grill is the summer equivalent of a fireplace; everyone gravitates to it.

The last time I ordered soup in a restaurant was – well, let me see – possibly never. That’s because in my mind, soup is something to be made and eaten at home, ideally with a cuddly animal at your feet in front of a blazing fireplace while the wind whips outside.

We heat our home with wood so the fireplace is always going and it’s pretty cozy in here, which is good because we have long winters in Wisconsin.

Whenever it gets a little cold in L.A., it gives me an excuse to light my fireplace. You could stare at that joint for, like, a cool two hours. It’s entrancing.

I dropped the script in the fireplace, called my agent and said, they can jail me, sue me, but I’m never acting again, unless I can do something worthwhile.

It’s amazing how the biggest things in our lives – when we’re around the fireplace and talking about them when we’re older – the things that matter the most to us start off amazingly small and in a humble way.

I don’t want everybody to see exactly where I live, what my sofa or my fireplace looks like.

I’ve got a nice collection of paintings – a Basquiat, a black-and-white Warhol that’s like a Rorschach test, and I commissioned Takashi Murakami to do a ten-foot joint for me. It’s almost like the explosion in Hiroshima with his famous skeleton head. There’s a wall above my fireplace reserved for it.

By no means did my first book sell. I took a few runs at it. You’ll never see those early efforts ’cause they’re burned, straight to the fireplace where they belong.

When I retire I’m going to spend my evenings by the fireplace going through those boxes. There are things in there that ought to be burned.

I’ve got one of those over-stuffed leather chairs from the Pottery Barn. It faces north. I live in San Francisco, so there’s the Golden Gate Bridge off to the left, and there’s Alcatraz off to the right, and I’ve got a pile of pulp fiction next to me, and there’s usually a decent bottle of red wine next to the fireplace.

I never waited for my Irish Cream coffee to be the right temperature, with a storm happening outside and my fireplace crackling… I wrote every day, at home, in the office, whether I felt like it or not. I just did it.

For me, there’s nothing better than curling up in my favorite blanket on a cloudy or rainy day and just knit. Especially in front of the fireplace.

I grew up in rural Oregon in a log house with bark left on inside and out. We had no electricity, a massive stone fireplace, a grand piano, and tons of books.

There’s a room in my house where my stereo, records, CDs, and books are housed. I spend a lot of time in that room, sitting in my chair beside the fireplace, reading and listening to music. Sometimes I just stand before the shelves and look at my books, because every single one of them means something to me.

No sane local official who has hung up an empty stocking over the municipal fireplace, is going to shoot Santa Claus just before a hard Christmas.

I have a fireplace in my kitchen that I light every night, no matter what.