Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Gravelly. 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 Gravelly Quotes And Sayings by 93 Authors including Veronica Roth,Fyodor Dostoyevsky,Percy Bysshe Shelley,Marc Secchia,Jay Asher for you to enjoy and share.
I can't even think of a word strong enough to describe him. Apparently I need to expand my vocabulary. Caleb
(and affectedly, bookishly, artificially idyllic too)
Peter was dull; he was at first Dull; - Oh, so dull - so very dull! Whether he talked, wrote, or rehearsed - Still with his dulness was he cursed - Dull -beyond all conception - dull.
My eyes are not sparkly! I'm not a sparkly sort of girl ... I go around with dirty knees and slay dragons in my spare time, for the love of ... oh!
Olly-olly-oxen-free-- Jay Asher
I said once that you are like ice. And you are. Silver and perfect . . . glistening. And hard. You're so hard, Lark. I want you to be soft sometimes. I need you to let me in.
Was his body made out of orange rocks and did he at any point yell 'It's clobbering time'?"
"I find your attempt at levity inappropriate."
"Consider me properly chastised.
The right word fitly spoken is a precious rarity.
stupid, overbarbering, possesive, fur ball
In one huge leather-gloved fist Jollyby held up a large, madly kicking hare by its ears.
'Son of a bitch,' Dauntless said. 'He caught it.'
Dauntless was a talking horse. She just didn't talk much.
I'm a little bit drifty. I'm a little bit all over the place.
Witty, brooding, contemplative, explosive: take your pick.
high words, that bore Semblance of worth not substance, gently
Rick and Scotty, who had heard Australian slang before from Digger Sears, one-time mate of the Tarpon, broke into chuckles.
"I'd better translate," Scotty said, "'Lord stone the crows' is just an expression. Oscar Ashe is hard cash. Yakka is hard work. And dinkum oil is gospel truth.
Clarke, define resplendent. I think it's shining, sir. Pithy, Clarke, but adequate. McCourt, give us a sentence with pithy. Clarke is pithy but adequate, sir. Adroit, McCourt. You have a mind for the priesthood, my boy, or politics. Think of that.
Arty. To me the word's got as much venom associated with it as 'wacky'.
Growlery. When I am out of humour, I come and growl here.
Semi-Tough pokes fun in rambling fashion, but it is vulgar in intelligent ways and almost always amusing in its perceptions of befuddled people who are perfectly healthy but often convinced they're not.
I shall call him Tufty.
When we settled in to eat, Susan said, "So, tell me about it." "You shrinks are always so cocksure," I said. "Nice word choice," Susan said. "In the current context.
His voice had the rough, abraded texture of stone against stone. Inej always wondered if he'd sounded that way as a little boy. If he'd ever been a little boy.
dangerously polite.
fierce tonight. Insistent.
I'm like Courtney Love without the drugs, right? Edgy. Full of unspoken feeling.'
'You're a brick when the guy is real and in front of you.
You're nasty and you're loud,
you're mean enough for two,
If I could be a cloud,
I'd rain all day on you.
Why, sir, Sherry is dull, naturally dull; but it must have taken him a great deal of pains to become what we now see him. Such an excess of stupidity, Sir, is not in Nature.
Safe word is Pickle
Solid and dense as his own, a nose ring and angelbites.
Jaded. I never understood the term. Jade is pretty and worth something, yes? I was rusted if I was anything. Too long in the rain. Going out in an orange blaze of muted, anonymous, common-as-dirt oxidation.
I've been a foul-mouthed knave." "Well, I don't know." "A beetle-headed malfeasor." "Nothing so - " "A base, proud tottyhead." He paused, but she said nothing. "Aren't you going to object?" "No," she drawled the word. "Humility is so refreshing in a man.
Though firm, we are never too firm, though we love fun, we never have fun in a silly way that makes us appear ridiculous, unless that is our intent.
I called Clay from the SUV.
"How'd it go at the paper?" he asked.
"She called me perky."
"Ouch.
Grody is in the eye of the beholder.
The word, his name, crawled across the room in a gravelly hiss.
A voice flat enough to fit under a door crack.
Sleeping as quiet as death, side by wrinkled side, toothless, salt and brown, like two old kippers in a box.
Dinted
dimpled wimpled
his mind wandered down echoing corridors of
assonance and alliteration ever further and further from the
point. He was enamoured with the beauty of words.
In the desert I often whisper. Junipers are excellent sounding boards. They have been shaped by wing. Rocks seem to care nothing about what I say, yet when I speak to them, they feel porous, capable of receiving my words and taking them in as part of their history of brokenness.
I don't mind my friends calling me "Thornes," but the fact of people calling me "Prickly Thornes" draws the line.
His voice is muddy, that's what it is. Dark and brown and muddy. A note to it like coffee left too long on the burner. And unsweetened, bitter chocolate. But there's dirt in it too, deep, dark dirt, like the garden in October.
The neighborhood is pretty rough." I rubbed the hair on the back of my neck feeling a little ashamed about that. We tried to keep it as clean as we could but we weren't saints.
"I'm starting to gather that. Thanks, Clay. Night."
"Night."
"You got it bad man.
A man's heart is stonier than the gravel he walks on.
Hissy, hissy, little snakey, Slither on the floor, You be good to Morfin Or he'll nail you to the door.
And you thought that rock was just ugly," Shame said. "It's ugly and powerful."
"No wonder you like it so much. Birds of a feather ... " Terric mumbled
Mr. Utterson the lawyer was a man of a rugged countenance that was never lighted by a smile; cold, scanty and embarrassed in discourse; backward in sentiment; lean, long, dusty, dreary and yet somehow lovable.
Rough night?" Zay asked.
"Oh, no. Glorious, thanks. Mum had me cross-checking data on solid Veiled all damn night.Fuckin' A, there better be a shot of whiskey at the end of this damn morning."
"Nola said she'd have fresh coffee," I said.
"Whiskey. I'll say it slow: whiiiskey.
Cruddy Mouthbreather
Sharp. Intense. Powerful. Intoxicating.
Just like Killian.
Damn it all.
Before she could stop herself, Sadie took an involuntary step back.
Killian countered, taking one step closer, and his lips tilted into a lopsided grin.
Shit on a stick.
How annoying.
You grew up on me, Aly, he murmured, the words rough, almost in awe.
A frightful dialect for the stupid, the pedant and dullard sort.
I am a dull fellow ... my person reeks, my conversation consists of insipid platitudes.
He like a rock in the sea unshaken stands his ground.
Low gurgling laughter, as sweet As the swallow's song i' the South, And a ripple of dimples that, dancing, meet By the curves of a perfect mouth.
Racy, his cold eyes glitter into ardent life, and his Don
cheery as a cherrio
Aggle flabble kabble . . . snurp?
Pretty as a painting, but thorny as a rose.
In Oppley they're smart, and in Stouch they're smarmy, but Midwich folk are just plain barmy
Cheeses crusty, got all musty, got damp on the stone of a peach," I agreed. He looked blank, so I repeated it with proper emphasis. " ChEEZ-zes crusty. Got Al -musty. Got DAMp on the StoneofapeaCH.
Vance shook his head. "Philly, I love you, buddy. I do. But you're not my type."
"I'm not?"
"What? Are you insulted?"
Philip was pondering that when the front door jingled.
Unremarkable, but with a brainy arrogance wafting from them.
A banty-rooster sort of guy, the kind that likes to pick fights, especially when the odds are all their way.
Davis was weak and vascillating, timid, petulant, peevish, obstinate, but not firm.
I can be a little acerbic.
Shaggy wrapper, flapping hat, and muddy legs, was rather
She treats herself as if she is a divine worm born of sand and stone.
I am not doddery ... doddery I am not!
Snooty knew measly talked muchly.
Well, I don't like the word 'rock star,' the two words, 'rock star.' Not even 'soft rock star. Not even limestone star. I don't like those words.
For God's sake (I never was more serious) don't make me ridiculous any more by terming me gentle-hearted in print ... substitute drunken dog, ragged head, seld-shaven, odd-eyed, stuttering, or any other epithet which truly and properly belongs to the gentleman in question.
Smooth and ordered on the outside; roiling and chaotic and desperately secretive underneath, but not noticeably so, never noticeably so.
What are men to rocks and mountains?
His voice sounds like a mix between Chris Daughtry with the deepness and huskiness of Sully from Godsmack.
He could not change his nature, could not help being cautious, deliberate, introspective, not traits to be scorned by any means, but traits that seemed dull, bland - even to him - when compared with Davydd's hell-for-leather dazzle.
But one of shallow wit, somewhat like a saltshaker with very little salt. In
There are dark, hard, cherty silt-stones from some deep ocean trench full of rapidly accumulating Pennsylvanian guck.
Sandry: "I am silly, now and then. My mother said I was, anyway."
Daja: "If you know, you can stop it."
Sandry: "Then you've never been silly or you'd know it just creeps up without any warning.
I am not hard - I'm frightfully soft. But I will not be hounded
Tougher'n a boiled owl.
... Clear pebbles of the rain ...
I assured him I was naturally hard - very flinty, and that he would often find me so; and that, moreover, I was determined to show him divers rugged points in my character
I'm Crusty, he said, with a tartar-yellow smile.
I resisted the urge to say, Yes, you are.
He is deformed, crooked, old and sere, Ill-faced, worse bodied, shapeless everywhere; Vicious, ungentle, foolish, blunt, unkind; Stigmatical in making, worse in mind.
The ice tinkles prettily: There's no more inviting sound to her, it's sophistication, like a British accent or that call-and-response of high-heeled shoes on tile.
My name is Spar. I am neither called Rocky nor made of rock. I am a Guardian, one of those warriors who were summoned to battle against the Seven demons of the Darkness and to prevent their possible return to this human plane of existence. I consider the others of my kind to be my brothers.
I figured anything Maxine Rothaus called rough was, in fact, vicious and lawless and inclined to eat its own young.
We used to have a dog named Snoopy, you know, a real live dog. I suppose people who love Snoopy won't like it, but we gave him away. He fought with other dogs, so we traded him in for a load of gravel.
Don't be a hard rock when you really are a gem!
How happy is the little stone That rambles in the road alone, And doesn't care about careers, And exigencies never fears; Whose coat of elemental brown A passing universe put on; And independent as the sun, Associates or glows alone, Fulfilling absolute decree In casual simplicity.
Puddleglum!" said Jill. "You're a regular old humbug. You sound as doleful as a funeral and I believe you're perfectly happy. And you talk as if you were afraid of everything, when you're really as brave as - as a lion.
She's terse. I can be terse. Once, in flight school, I was laconic.
Grumpy is her favorite dwarf.
His voice was an iceberg, slow and deadly.
It (a singer's voice) sounds as if it was aged in a whiskey cask, cured in an Ozarks smokehouse, dropped down a stone well, pulled out damp, and kept moist in the palm of a wicked woman's hand.
Owen meany who rarely wasted words and who had the conversation-stopping habit of dropping remarks like coins into a deep pool of water ... remarks that sank, like truth, to the bottom of the pool where they would remain untouchable.
I'm running out of words to describe this lad.
Round-headed," he muttered. "Brachycephalic, gray-eyed, black-haired, with suggestion of the negroid. Celtic, I presume?
But he found himself rounding syllables like stones in his mouth, silently. He knew he was shy, and thought to be stupid; he was beginning to suspect, thought, that he wasn't stupid. Perhaps not even slow. Merely uneducated. But not, he hoped, uneducable.
heavy, sullen girl with a face as blunt and expressionless as a knee,
Dwayne's only companion at night was a Labrador retriever named Sparky. Sparky could not wag his tail - because of an automobile accident many years ago, so he had no way of telling other dogs how friendly he was. He had to fight all the time. His ears were in tatters. He was lumpy with scars. ***