Top 55 Marble Quotes

If there’s one thing white men have never had a problem with in this clubby, white marble enclave of Washington, it’s getting pulled up the ladder by other men.

When I was a child, I loved ‘The Marble Faun’ by Nathaniel Hawthorne. The reason I liked it was because it had a beautiful binding. When you’re a kid, you like books because they’re pretty to look at, and this one had a white calfskin cover and gold edges. That was enough to make me love it.

I keep two sentimental mementos on my desk to remind me of two favorite men. There is an inkwell that my Uncle Seymour made, a brass grotesque he mounted on a marble base. And my grandfather’s shaving cup is there, used to store pencils and pens.

A sculptor wields The chisel, and the stricken marble grows To beauty.

If every year is a marble, how many marbles do you have left? How many sunrises, how many opportunities to rise to the full stature of your being?

The thing I like most in my kitchen is my marble counters. Everybody said not to use marble because it’s fragile, it stains, it cracks, and it doesn’t remain beautiful. But I love marble.

If you see a wonderful archaic Greek marble object in a museum, it’s not only that it’s beautiful, but what comes to your mind is the fact that it’s 2,600 or so years old, and it was done by a human being at that time who you have such a limited ability to grasp – and yet you have this enormous ability to grasp.

Sometimes I carry a Green Marble SeLr setting spray. It’s the one drag queens use. That is bomb.

I tell myself every day I love my Jacuzzi, I love my marble floors, I love my high ceilings.

The greatest artist has no conception which a single block of white marble does not potentially contain within its mass, but only a hand obedient to the mind can penetrate to this image.

Write injuries in dust, benefits in marble.

A good character is the best tombstone. Those who loved you and were helped by you will remember you when forget-me-nots have withered. Carve your name on hearts, not on marble.

My brother shaved a cricket bat out of a coconut branch… we played cricket with anything we put our hands on – a hard orange, a lime, a marble – anything we could use in the backyard or the streets.

I found Rome a city of bricks and left it a city of marble.

I’d love to go to space. I would love to peek out a giant window and look back at the blue marble. There’s no question; I’d love to do that.

From the time I started taking photographs, I started working with plastics. I’ve always treated plastic like it was marble or gemstone or fine glass. I’ve always gotten the most out of it. I love it!

London really is my city; I was born within a breath of Marble Arch.

Information is lightning-quick. It crosses cities, states, and national borders in the twinkle of an eye. It passes through many kinds of devices, flowing from phone to phone and computer to computer, rather than being sealed away in those silent marble temples we used to call banks.

The Lord doesn’t care at all if we spend our days working in marble halls or stable stalls. He knows where we are, no matter how humble our circumstances. He will use – in His own way and for His holy purposes – those who incline their hearts to Him.

As in the Divine Right of Kings, hierarchies invest those who preside at the top of their pyramidal structure with absolute power to rule over the lesser ranks that spread down like a marble staircase to the broad foundation stones of those with no power at all.

In my office, I have a very beautiful marble bust of Seneca. I always have my eye on him when I’m taking phone calls. He’s one of the many philosophers I’ve always read and admired.

Every human being has within him an ideal man, just as every piece of marble contains in a rough state a statue as beautiful as the one that Praxiteles the Greek made of the god Apollo.

The sculptor produces the beautiful statue by chipping away such parts of the marble block as are not needed – it is a process of elimination.

I love the way the Victorians found a way to put faces in everything: you know, furniture and marble and, you know, everywhere you turn around – the banister, you know, there’s someone looking at you.

There’s a staircase on the first floor of the Capitol that I walk every day. It’s made of marble, and as you walk those steps, you think of those who’ve walked before you. You think of the challenges that the country’s faced.

You find me at work; excuse the dust on my blouse. I sculpt my marble myself.

I was obsessed with carrara marble. I had a carrara marble phone case.

I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free.

I keep two sentimental mementos on my desk to remind me of two favorite men. There is an inkwell that my Uncle Seymour made, a brass grotesque he mounted on a marble base. And my grandfather’s shaving cup is there, used to store pencils and pens.

Christians well know that the much-decorated statue of the Church, as it now stands, is not of pure chiseled marble, but of clay, cemented together by blood and tears and hardened in the fires of hatred and persecution.

Life comes before literature, as the material always comes before the work. The hills are full of marble before the world blooms with statues.

I tell myself every day I love my Jacuzzi, I love my marble floors, I love my high ceilings.

Dear God! how beauty varies in nature and art. In a woman the flesh must be like marble; in a statue the marble must be like flesh.

I was at this dinner for Rhodes Scholars. And we were in the Rhodes mansion, which is this fancy mansion on the Oxford campus. And I remember I looked up in the rotunda, and I saw that etched into the marble were the names of Rhodes Scholars who had left Oxford, and had fought and died in World War II.

‘Really,’ thought I, ‘we call Baltimore the ‘Monumental City’ for its two marble columns, and here is Edinburg with one at every street-corner!’

I personally love mini bouquets randomly throughout my bathroom and my dressing room. I’ll put a small bouquet on a dresser or on a round marble table in my bathroom next to the sink.

An American store is generally a very extensive apartment, handsomely decorated, the roof frequently supported on marble pillars. The owner or clerk is seen seated by his goods, absorbed in the morning paper – probably balancing himself on one leg of his chair, with a spittoon by his side.

There isn’t any one material that’s mine. It all depends on the context. For example, I did a house that had the most exquisite marble applications. That sounds ostentatious, but it wasn’t, given the context. The color white I subscribe to extensively. I love thinking about color, but I often go with white.

The court is like a palace of marble; it’s composed of people very hard and very polished.

I used to joke that, since breastfeeding, my boobs looked like an old athletic sock with some loose change at the bottom, so when I felt a lump the size of a marble, I knew something was terribly wrong.

White paint is my marble.

Yes, the work comes out more beautiful from a material that resists the process, verse, marble, onyx, or enamel.

For me, life is not about gold taps and marble all over the place.

No weather forecaster can tell you for sure when to wear a rain slicker, stock up on canned goods, or evacuate a city that’s in a cyclone’s path. All forecasters can offer is their best guess at the atmosphere of the future, whispered by the simulated blue marble and wrapped up in uncertainty.

England is not a country of granite and marble, but of chalk, marl, and clay.

There are two kinds of sculptures. There’s the kind that subtracts: Michelangelo starts with a block of marble and chips away. And then there is the kind that adds, building with clay, piling it on. The way I write novels is to keep piling on and piling on and piling on.

Driving a steamroller over an old trumpet or a teaspoon is no more destructive than taking a chisel to a lump of marble already torn from the landscape. But people don’t see it that way because marble is considered noble.

Although I’m a city boy, I am a rural person at heart – and that comes from school. I’d lived near Marble Arch in London and it was fantastic to be surrounded by fields and trees.

I think the hardest part of writing is revising. And by that I mean the following: A novelist has to create the piece of marble and then chip away to find the figure in it.

Marble is not alike in all countries.

It was Apollo 8 that first showed us the tiny blue marble of Earth floating in the void of space, one of the great psychological shifts in human history. From out there, we can both appreciate and begin to solve the problems of our world in ways unavailable to us otherwise.

The marble not yet carved can hold the form of every thought the greatest artist has.

Life is made up of marble and mud.

Man cannot remake himself without suffering, for he is both the marble and the sculptor.

A disaster where marble has been substituted for imagination.