The flat sound of my wooden clogs on the cobblestones, deep, hollow and powerful, is the note I seek in my painting. — Paul Gauguin Copy Share Image
His voice was handsome and broken, like a cobblestone street. — Jonathan Safran Foer Copy Share Image
My wit is more polished than your mustache. The truth which I speak strikes more sparks from men's hearts than your spurs… — Edmond Rostand Copy Share Image
We are planes, trains, and automobiles, and we're always hauling stuff up these tiny cobblestone streets, so the more mobile you are,… — Chris Harrison Copy Share Image
Must’ve been hard on your mom,” Frank said. “I guess we’ll do anything for someone we love.” Hazel squeezed his hand appreciatively.… — Rick Riordan Copy Share Image
Galladon paused for a moment, then laughed. "Does nothing frighten you, sule?" "Actually, pretty much everything here does—I'm just good at ignoring… — Brandon Sanderson Copy Share Image
“And before long, the music, the views rushing past the window, my fathers voice and the narrow cobblestone streets all merged into… — Orhan Pamuk Copy Share Image
When Christian pushes into the brick wall of the building catty-corner to the rear of BB&B—first left on the Dark Zone side—and… — Karen Marie Moning Copy Share Image
In Germany, you have a huge official memorial to the murdered Jews and then you have this artist who's been putting these… — Amy Waldman Copy Share Image
The first job of the historian and of the journalist is to find facts. Not the only job, perhaps not the most… — Timothy Garton Ash Copy Share Image
When this is over...we will got to the rainforest, or a beach as white as bone. We will eat grapes from the… — Jodi Picoult Copy Share Image
In Sweeden every city looks the same. I've been to sixteen cities, and every single city is the same! The same cobblestone,… — Pablo Francisco Copy Share Image
Pittsburgh isn't fancy, but it is real. It's a working town and money doesn't come easy. I feel as much a part… — Willie Stargell Copy Share Image
Soon we will plunge ourselves into cold shadows, and all of summer's stunning afternoons will be gone. I already hear the dead… — Charles Baudelaire Copy Share Image
