Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Cabin. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Cabin Quotes And Sayings by 95 Authors including J.k. Rowling,Joe Hill,Laura Ruby,Margaret Atwood,Robert Jordan for you to enjoy and share.
Harry and Hermione supported Ron over the threshold, into the one-roomed cabin, which had an enormous bed in one corner, a fire crackling merrily in another. Hagrid
a place to throw down a blanket and read a book.
Least, that's what it looked like. A roped-off room in a castle somewhere, a room made entirely of blocks of stone, icy and cold, even though a fire burned low in the hearth. A room where doomed queens went to die.
A home filled with nothing but yourself. It's heavy, that lightness. It's crushing, that emptiness.
It was the room where they
Small log cabin once stood near the creek, but as the Jones family's fortunes
Within National Parks is room
glorious room
room in which to find ourselves, in which to think and hope, to dream and plan, to rest and resolve.
I had no idea that reading it would lead me to a cabin. It's dangerous to open a book
There's no place where one can breathe as freely as on the deck of a ship.
It's not the rooms, it's the life you live in them
A raft or a scow, you know; and maybe you could hear a fiddle or a song coming over from one of them crafts. It's lovely to live on a raft. We had the sky up there, all speckled with stars, and we used to lay on our backs and look up at them,
We hated the cruise. Our cabin was deep in the bowels of the ship, the nautical equivalent of nosebleed seats.
The three friends stayed safe inside, but then they began to catch cabin fever. Being
The lights were cheap LEDs tinted a false pink that was supposed to flatter the complexion but instead made everyone look like undercooked beef. There were no cabins, only row after row of formed
A room of one's own isn't nearly enough. A house, or, best, an island of one's own.
You and me Haymitch.Very cozy.Picnics, birthdays, long winter nights sitting around the fire retelling old Hunger Games tale.
-Peeta Mellark
The Hemlock Tearoom and Stationery
Screen porch in a tree.
Made a sketch later on the cabin verandah, but it was impossible to keep up with the changes. Oh the difficulties of mountain art for too little genius.
I have a room all to myself; it is nature.
the room, that I, this day, declare with the utmost sincerity, I do not think
The cabin in the woods is to the American Gothic what the haunted castle is to the European - the seed from which everything else ultimately grows.
Prison house for the soul
Every writer dreams of having a backyard cottage, similar to Dahl's 'writing hut.' English cottages and charming huts might seem out of reach, but a good carpenter could build a modest cottage on the cheap.
The ship was small, his cabin smaller, but the captain would not allow him abovedecks.
There are rooms one never leaves.
[on camp:]
There were ten of us, living in a three-hundred-square-foot bunk, going through puberty as lightning speed. It was too much hormonal action for any one room, and the result was a frenzied, emotionally volatile space that smelled like a Bath and Body Works.
the cottage lights
The worst part about her new chambers was that all these wardrobes and vanities and drapes meant there was no space--none at all--for a bookcase. Who on earth could feel comfortable enough to sleep in a room with no books?
They were cosy and comfortable in their little house made of logs, with the snow drifted around it and the wind crying because it could not get in by the fire.
pocket. "Tanner," Nathaniel
The morning light pours down through the tall trees onto the open space in front of the cabin, sunbeams everywhere and mist floating like freshly minted souls.
The quiet rhythmic monotone of the wall of logs fills one with the rustic peace of a secluded nook in the woods.
A house of which one knew every room wasn't worth living in.
bigger than a closet, empty except for an old oak door all bound
like a small room. Like a
There is hardly a pioneer's hut which does not contain a few odd volumes of Shakespeare. I remember reading the feudal drama of Henry V for the first time in a log cabin.
Though we labor with our minds, this place we can relax in was built by someone who can work with his hands. And his work is as noble as ours. I think the poet owes something to the guy who builds the cabin for him.
When I think of this life I have led; the desolation of solitude it has been; the masoned, walled-town of a Captain's exclusiveness, which admits but small entrance to any sympathy from the green country without - oh, weariness! heaviness! Guinea-coast slavery of solitary command!
A lovely little wooden cottage in the depths of a forest is the most beautiful palace a king or any man can ever have!
After endless days of commuting on the freeway to an antiseptic, sealed-window office, there is a great urge to backpack in the woods and build a fire.
Boarding-House Geometry DEFINITIONS AND AXIOMS All boarding-houses are the same boarding-house. Boarders in the same boarding-house and on the same flat are equal to one another. A single room is that which has no parts and no magnitude. The landlady of a boarding-house is a
They got it wrong when they called it "the closet." This was a prison. Solitary confinement. I was locked inside, inside myself, dark and afraid and alone. (Chapter. 23)
Home, home - a few small rooms, stiflingly over-inhabited by a man, by a periodically teeming woman, by rabble of boys and girls of all ages. No air, no space; an understerilized prison; darkness, disease and smells.
Hello - what hotel is this - ?
Sitting at the single table in a disreputable pile of lumber mistakenly called a building.
The nunneries of silent nooks, the murmured longing of the wood.
In what vile part of this anatomy
Doth my name lodge? Tell me, that I may sack
The hateful mansion.
He longed for the little cabin and the sun-kissed sea - for the cool interior of the well-built house, and for the never-ending wonders of the many books.
THE MAN IN THE WOOD
Fenwick, sitting down to
A letter today from a Mrs Gladys Freeman, 45 Sebastopol Terrace, Blackpool. 'Sir, reference the room you had here during the party conference season. Well, we know what it is. We know who done it. But for heaven's sake tell us where it is!
This shed does not contain me.Shed-- Bill Bailey
And afterward, in the small cabin, they'd do this, this tangle of bodies, this blurring of the edges that kept people distant and lonely.
It is imperative when flying coach that you restrain any tendency toward the vividly imaginative. For although it may momentarily appear to be the case, it is not at all likely that the cabin is entirely inhabited by crying babies smoking inexpensive domestic cigars.
Cabin Fifteen does that to everyone," Annabeth warned. "If you ask me, this place is even more dangerous than the Ares cabin. At least with Ares, you can learn where the land mines are."
"Land mines?
Number eight, the silver one, belongs to Artemis. She vowed to be a maiden forever. So of course, no kids. The cabin is, you know, honorary. If she didn't have one, she'd be mad.
Being inside this cottage, with dark wooden walls and hand-carved furniture like my own home, cast a darkened stain onto my heart.
couple of small suites, all nicely furnished. There was a small sitting area with a gas fireplace, lush carpeting and deep leather chairs. She tiptoed in, enjoying
We no longer build fireplaces for physical warmth-we build them for the warmth of the soul; we build them to dream by, to hope by, to home by.
Back in the cabin I light the fire and sit sighing and there are leaves skittering on the tin roof, it's August in Big Sur
I fall asleep in the chair and when I wake up I'm facing the thick little tangled woods outside the door and I suddenly remember them from long ago
Hobbiton, a low but somehow cozy tunnel with rounded earthen sides
the waiting room. It was half full
Oh! Miss Woodhouse, the comfort of being sometimes alone!
Life is a night spent in an uncomfortable inn.
Curious thing, rooms. Tell you quite a lot about the people who live in them.
I need to be very isolated to write, and unfortunately isolation is often quite difficult to find. My ideal writing environment would be a country house hotel in the middle of nowhere, with full room service.
Canoe plus waterfall equals I don't go camping anymore.
This tiny habitation on wheels, with bit parts of the living room, the washroom, and the fireplace, is a pathetic admission that human life is no more than this: an attempt to feel at home while racing towards oblivion. He
Canoe + waterfall = I don't go camping anymore.
Room is the wrong word. It's not a room - it's a mission statement.
The little smiling cottage! where at eve
He meets his rosy children at the door,
Prattling their welcomes, and his honest wife,
With good brown cake and bacon slice, intent
To cheer his hunger after labor hard.
A wood that smells of the sea.
What a thing it is to sit absolutely alone in the forest at night.
In the early New England meeting-houses the seats were long, narrow, uncomfortable benches, which were made of simple, rough, hand-riven planks placed on legs like milking-stools.
Twoleg den with cows and a dark, hay-scented barn where she and
It was the room of a woman without taste or moderation, who refused nothing and surrendered nothing, to whom the fact of possession had become the one steadfast reality in a world of loss and change.
The fort.
Where the pair stored their painted scenes and books of made-up languages, their two-man band, and the tiny matchbox bed plus accessories that they made in case, someday, their experiments in the world of shrinking finally panned out.
I have a room whereinto no one enters
Save I myself alone:
There sits a blessed memory on a throne,
There my life centres.
and I had no home but the heart's hut,
the blistering walls of loneliness,
the world's blue skymiles of longing.
To have an opportunity to make a movie like Cabin Fever, you have to get stuff thrown on you or you have to fall into a pit of water. It brings you that much closer to your mindset as a character.
I had a new cabin mate. I had a monster for a half-brother.
alcoves, and once or twice he sat down
A cold, miserable little hamlet on the eastern coast of America called Piper's Grave.
I sit, smoking, my head against the cool comfort of the fighter plane's wheel, its wing shielding but never embracing me. I'm a cold nestling tonight.
There are no chairs or tables in my tiny room. Vera says that only savages sit down. Only a prone position is beautiful and becoming to the body. She has spread carpets on mattresses along the walls and scattered pillows over them...
("Thirty-Three Abominations")
Jacket. It was this sketch-book, which was as dilapidated
our family's house.
My cage has many rooms.
The white room is an interior to be made devoid of any specific sensualism emanated by objects. Ultimately it is classic white canvas expanded into three-dimensional space.
His third-floor bedroom wasn't an all-American room. It was an all-English room, lacking only a three-pronged outlet and a draft.
Dispel the cold, bounteously replenishing the hearth with logs.
boathouse. "Good night, Harley." "Don't give
A writer is in danger of allowing his talent to dull who lets more than a year go past without finding himself in his rightful place of composition, the small single unluxurious retreat of the twentieth century, the hotel bedroom.
There is room in the smallest cottage for a happy loving pair.
The room has to be comfortable; the house has to look habitable.
On the farm, in our first-floor bedroom, my sister and I were sheltered in the essence of normal. We were not hidden, but unseen. The orange farmhouse was our castle, our kingdom the fields around, and the shallow creek that bisected our property the sea we crossed to find adventure.
furnished, but by no means decorated,
A house made of ice in the middle of desert! And that house is the house of lies!
Domestic interior design is a fraught affair. It makes me hanker for the mild and soothing and tasteless red velvet interiors in which people lived so undiscriminatingly no more than twenty years ago. It was unhygienic, dark, cool, probably stuffed full of dangerous bacteria, and pleasant.