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“ 'And now I Carve the things I saw in my fever dreams, just as they always wished. I dreamed of you, I think. In the end, I suppose they'll wish I hadn't dreamed at all.' ”
― Pierce Brown, Red Rising

“ 'Personally, I do not want to make you a man. Men are so very frail. Men break. Men die. No, I've always wished to make a god.' He smiles mischievously as he does some sketches on a digital pad. He spins it around and shows me the killer I will become. 'So why not carve you to be the god of war?' ”
― Pierce Brown, Red Rising

“What is it?â€�
“A prayer.�
“For a child?�
She nodded.
“For me?�
Another nod.
“On a tree?�
“Trees spend all day looking up at God.”
― Mitch Albom, For One More Day

“Throughout our youth, whenever we had a dispute, Li Wei and I would apologize to each other by exchanging gifts. Mine would be in the form of drawings, crudely done with whatever natural supplies I could find. His would always be carvings. There was only one time the exchange didn't happen, the day I told him I was accepting the apprentice position and would never be able to marry him.”
― Richelle Mead, Soundless

“She wept a river of tears
holy water, sent to soften the sharp edges of sorrow
a gentle hollowing out, carving new chambers in her heart
a hallowed vessel for holding sacred,
the tears of others...”
― Kate Mullane Robertson

“What could you possibly write at Gates of Hades?â€� Cadmus asked.

“Keep your spirits up.� Lycon sheathed the dagger he’d used to chisel the trunk.

Cadmus shook his head. “Idiot.”
― Sulari Gentill, Chasing Odysseus

“Why, observe the thing; turn it over; hold it up to the window; count the beads, long, oval, like some seaweed bulbs, each an amulet. See the tint; it's very old; like clots of sunshine, aren't they? Now bring it near; see the carving, here corrugated, there faceted, now sculptured into hideous, tiny, heathen gods. You didn't notice that before! How difficult it must have been, when amber is so friable! Here's one with a chessboard on his back, and all his kings and queens and pawns slung round him. Here's another with a torch, a flaming torch, its fire pouring out inverted. They are grotesque enough; but this, this is matchless: such a miniature woman, one hand grasping the round rock behind, while she looks down into some gulf, perhaps, beneath, and will let herself fall. 0, you should see her with a magnifying-glass! You want to think of calm satisfying death, a mere exhalation, a voluntary slipping into another element? There it is for you. They are all gods and goddesses. They are all here but one; I've lost one, the knot of all, the love of the thing.
Well! Wasn't it queer for a Catholic girl to have at prayer?”
― Harriet Prescott Spofford, The Amber Gods and Other Stories

“What do you do with everything that is cut away?" she asked Tilman, thinking now about the negative space of stone sculpture, the stone that is discarded, thinking too about how she had thrown away huge pieces of her own early life...”
― Jane Urquhart, The Stone Carvers

“The walls were painted red, and there was the painter up ahead, that candle-maned woman carving her way through the darkness, and carving her way through everyone she thought the darkness owned.”
― Dean F. Wilson, Hopebreaker

“He was to be the sun that would ripen the crowd for carving skin instead of wooden ornaments.”
― Nick Oliveri, The Conjurer

“What he had loved most about carving was the SEEING part, which happened even before you began. Sometimes you saw a car or a truck. Sometimes a dog or cat. Once, he remembered, it had been the face of an idol--one of the spooky Easter Island monoliths he had seen in an issue of National Geographic at school. That had turned out to be a good one. The game was to find out how much of that thing you could get out of the wood without breaking it. You could never get it all, but if you were very careful, you could sometimes get quite a lot.”
― Stephen King, The Waste Lands

“Someday," Joseph said to his granddaughter, "someday something will happen and you will want to go back to the carving. You won't be able to prevent yourself; that's just the way it is. The world always somehow takes us back to the chisel. Something happens and we have to respond.”
― Jane Urquhart, The Stone Carvers

“Only some stories leave an everlasting mark.

Choice.”
― Monaristw