Each place its own mind, its own psyche! Oak, Madrone, Douglas fir, red-tailed hawk, serpentine in the sandstone, a certain scale to… — David Abram Copy Share Image
The usual struggle squeezing my bloated Citroën, absurdly named “Picasso,” in or out of any old Italian town. I should be taking… — Joscelyn Godwin Copy Share Image
I can only tell where I feel most at home, which is in the erosional landscape of the red rock desert of… — Terry Tempest Williams Copy Share Image
One cannot walk down an avenue, converse with a friend, enter a building, browse beneath the sandstone arches of an old arcade… — Alan Lightman Copy Share Image
In the first place you can't see anything from a car; you've got to get out of the goddamned contraption and walk,… — Edward Abbey Copy Share Image
“Living there [Horse Mesa] was like living in a natural cathedral. Waking up every morning, you walked outside and looked down at… — Jeannette Walls Copy Share Image
Since the first human eye saw a leaf in Devonian sandstone and a puzzled finger reached to touch it, sadness has lain… — Loren Eiseley Copy Share Image
“Nothing grows among its pinnacles; there is no shade except under great toadstools of sandstone whose bases have been eaten to the… — Anonymous Copy Share Image
None could guess my confusion, my host of deluded illusions and elusive delusions! A mantle of marble hiding a crumbling core of… — Steven Erikson Copy Share Image
I carve stone. I've got hammers and chisels and I carve from sandstone. I just did a big mural of birds and… — Peter Weir Copy Share Image
The house had a name. The Banana House. It was carved onto a piece of sandstone above the front door. It made… — Hilary McKay Copy Share Image
