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Gold Quotes

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Gold Quotes

“And I often dream of chemistry at night, dreams that conflate the past and the present, the grid of the periodic table transformed to the grid of Manhattan. Sometimes, too, I dream of the indecipherable language of tin (a confused memory, perhaps, of its plaintive "cry"). But my favorite dream is of going to the opera (I am Hafnium), sharing a box at the Met with the other heavy transition metals my old and valued friends Tantalum, Rhenium, Osmium, Iridium, Platinum, Gold, and Tungsten.”

SometimesDreamPastNightLanguageMemoriesCryMetsGoldTablesMy FavoriteBoxesHeavyConfusedChemistryTransitionMetalsOperaTransformedManhattanTinGridsPlatinumPeriodic TableValued Friends
Author:Oliver Sacks
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“Speak not, move not, but listen, the sky is full of gold. No ripple on the river, no stir in field or fold, All gleams but naught doth glisten, but the far-off unseen sea. Forget days past, heart broken, put all memory by! No grief on the green hillside, no pity in the sky, Joy that may not be spoken fills mead and flower and tree.”

HeartMayPastMovingJoySpeakMemoriesForgetGriefTreeSeaSkyFieldsFlowerBrokenRiversGoldGreenPityUnseenFoldsRippleGleamHeart BrokeMeadGlisten
Author:William Morris
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“When she (my mother) passed away, I kind of understood the commitment that she made to make sure that I could stay in skating. And I wanted to live up to whatever I could. Not so much win everything, but just to be the best that I could possibly be, to honor her memory and everything she went through to make sure that I was given the opportunities to be the best that I can be. Not to be a world champion or an Olympic gold medalist, but to be the best that I could be. And that was the most important thing that ever happened in my career.”

WorldKindMadeI CanImportantWantedMotherOpportunityWinningGivenMemoriesCareersHappenedHonorUnderstoodCommitmentGoldImportant ThingsChampionBeing The BestSkatingPassed AwayWorld ChampionsMother Passed Away
Author:Theodore Roosevelt
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“He wanted to tell her that he was inspired and vigilant and recklessly alone, that his body contained his unsteady heart and something else, something he felt but could not describe: porous and spiky, shifting with flecks of thought, with urge and memory; salted with brightness, flickerings of white and green and pale gold; something that loved stars because it was made of the same substance.”

HeartMadeBodyWantedStarsFeltMemoriesWhiteGoldGreenInspiredSubstanceUrgesPaleShiftingBrightnessVigilant
Book:Specimen Days: A Novel
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“On two chairs beneath the bole of the tree and canopied by a living bough there sat, side by side, Celeborn and Galadriel... Very tall they were, and the Lady no less tall than the Lord; and they were grave and beautiful. They were clad wholly in white; and the hair of the Lady was of deep gold, and the hair of the Lord Celeborn was of silver long and bright; but no sign of age was upon them, unless it were in the depths of their eyes; for these were keen as lances in the starlight, and yet profound, the wells of deep memory.”

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Author:J. R. R. Tolkien
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“When she looked at herself in her wedding photographs, Ammu felt the woman that looked back at her was someone else. A foolish jewelled bride. Her silk sunset-coloured sari shot with gold. Rings on every finger. White dots of sandalwood paste over her arched eye-brows. Looking at herself like this, Ammu's soft mouth would twist into a small, bitter smile at the memory - not of the wedding itself so much as the fact that she had permitted herself to be so painstakingly decorated before being led to the gallows. It seemed so absurd. So futile. Like polishing firewood.”

FactsEyeFeltMemoriesWhiteMouthsShotsGoldFingersPhotographFoolishRingsAbsurdBitterSunsetTwistsBridesSilkBrowsDotsGallowsFirewoodSariSandalwood
Book:The God of Small Things
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“Who are you, reader, reading my poems an hundred years hence? I cannot send you one single flower from this wealth of the spring, one single streak of gold from yonder clouds. Open your doors and look abroad. From your blossoming garden gather fragrant memories of the vanished flowers of an hundred years before. In the joy of your heart may you feel the living joy that sang one spring morning, sending its glad voice across a hundred years.”

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Book:Delphi Collected Works of Rabindranath Tagore (Illustrated)
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