The plantations in the Hilo district enjoy special advantages, for by turning some of the innumerable mountain streams into flumes, the owners can bring a great part of their cane and all their wood for fuel down to the mills without other expense than the original cost of the woodwork.
I like making things. I have a wood shop at home. I am a terrible carpenter but I love doing it.
If the weather is good I go into the nearby wood - there I am painting a small beech forest (in the sun) with a few conifers mixed in. This takes until 8 'o clock.
The Wood was about young people and the other one is more of a grown up movie.
The rat stops gnawing in the wood, the dungeon walls withdraw, the weight is lifted your pulse steadies and the sun has found your heart, the day was not bad, the season has not been bad, there is sense and even promise in going on.
I've had tinnitus for about ten years, and since I started protecting my ears it hasn't got any worse - touch wood.
I do a bit called, 'You go, girl!' where I say, 'Don't tell me 'You go, girl!' I get it. I don't need you encourage me.' And nine times out of 10 after I finish the bit, some guy in the back will yell 'You go, girl!' I get a lot of that or 'I hear ya!' I don't generally - knock on fake wood - get mean heckling.
Every little girl wanted to be Natalie Wood, as did I.
I once lived in a cottage made entirely of wood, and there was an electrical fire. We all ran outside, and no one got hurt, but the house was demolished.
The American education system couldn't be more badly directed or poorly funded if the Secretary of Education were Ed Wood.
The unread story is not a story; it is little black marks on wood pulp. The reader, reading it, makes it live: a live thing, a story.
What we call barbecuing in this country is actually direct grilling. In many countries, it also means cooking in an enclosed box with a heat source, ideally wood, all year round.
Oh all the time when Victoria Wood and I did our series. There were people asking 'Can women be funny?' People still ask that. It's like asking: 'Can women breathe in and out?'
The Wild Wood is pretty well populated by now; with all the usual lot, good, bad, and indifferent - I name no names. It takes all sorts to make a world.
Wood is weirdly a big passion of mine. I really love it, all the way from trees to a finished table. The fact that it was alive and that each piece is different.
Woodworking requires a completely different kind of thinking and problem-solving ability than writing. With writing, you take a set of facts and ideas, and you reason your way forward to a story that pulls them together. With woodworking, you start with an end product in mind, and reason your way backward to the raw wood.
A stair not worn hollow by footsteps is, regarded from its own point of view, only a boring something made of wood.
Bad acting comes in many bags, various odors. It can be performed by cardboard refugees from an Ed Wood movie, reciting their dialogue off an eye chart, or by hopped-up pros looking to punch a hole through the fourth wall from pure ballistic force of personality, like Joe Pesci in a bad mood. I can respect bad acting that owns its own style.
Ontario wood prices are among the highest in the world.
After all those days in the cotton fields, the dreams came true on a gold record on a piece of wood. It's in my den where I can look at it every day. I wear it out lookin' at it.
When I married Paul, we lived in St John's Wood in London. We had nice next-door neighbours, but you don't know anyone else. Everyone lives in isolation.
I'd get 3-4 cheap home runs every year. You know, little 'wood shots' down either line. They would be pop flies in any other park. But, goodness me, they didn't count the number of long outs!
There is a special sensation in getting good wood on the ball and driving a double down the left-field line as the crowd in the ballpark rises to its feet and cheers. But, I also remember how much fun I had as a skinny barefoot kid hitting a tennis ball with a broomstick on a quiet, dusty street in Panama.
Can I throw harder than Joe Wood? Listen mister, no man alive can throw any harder than Smokey Joe Wood.
Ultimately, literature is nothing but carpentry. With both you are working with reality, a material just as hard as wood.
Originally I wanted somewhere to set my short stories about the sort of people I recognise having grown up with. Carnbeg was staring me in the face all the time, only I had somehow failed to see that. Not seeing the wood for the trees, I suppose.
Men admire the man who can organize their wishes and thoughts in stone and wood and steel and brass.
Knock on wood, but I think we hit the gestational carrier lottery!
I would have been glad to have lived under my wood side, and to have kept a flock of sheep, rather than to have undertaken this government.
Wood carving is such an amazing skill and very underrated; once you cut it, it's hard to go back.
I think we have got the wood on South Africa, but that does not mean they are not a good team. They intimidate a lot of teams but we intimidate them. There is no disrespect for South Africa; they are a very good team.
You know, for most of its life bluegrass has had this stigma of being all straw hats and hay bales and not necessarily the most sophisticated form of music. Yet you can't help responding to its honesty. It's music that finds its way deep into your soul because it's strings vibrating against wood and nothing else.
I love weights, but it's too far to get to the gym. So I make the farm my gym: I split wood and haul tires and do work on the farm, and that's sort of my weight training portion.
I'm better with my hands, and I always loved the slightly romantic idea of starting with bits of wood and being able to create something to sit on, to eat from, to store your clothes in.
One of the places where we lived when I was growing up had this big wood out the back. And starting when I was about 8, I used to enjoy just walking alone through the wood late. Eleven p.m. Midnight. Later.
I would never want to be a member of a group whose symbol was a guy nailed to two pieces of wood.
