#Attic
Quotes about attic
The attic, often tucked away at the top of a home, is a space brimming with mystery and nostalgia. It represents more than just a storage area; it is a treasure trove of memories, secrets, and forgotten stories. Attics are where the past meets the present, holding relics of bygone eras that whisper tales of family history and personal journeys. This unique blend of the tangible and the intangible makes the attic a powerful symbol of introspection and discovery. People are drawn to quotes about attics because they evoke a sense of wonder and curiosity, inviting us to explore the hidden corners of our own lives. These quotes often inspire reflection on the passage of time, the value of memories, and the beauty of uncovering what lies beneath the surface. In a world that moves at a relentless pace, the attic serves as a reminder to pause, reflect, and cherish the stories that shape who we are. Whether it's the allure of a forgotten photograph or the creak of an old floorboard, the attic captivates our imagination and encourages us to delve deeper into the narratives that define us.
We were in the attic before we were rescued, ... At that time, the shelters were segregated.
Up until the attic took off, we had everything controlled. At least we thought we did,
When the fire did break through, we had a crew in that attic (on the 209 side), ... They got lost and disoriented. We had a mayday call.
When I go back, life won't be like it was. If we're lucky, our roofs are still on and our houses didn't catch on fire. If we're not, water came up to our attic and we lost everything.
I find myself wanting to make music at the dining room table or in the bedroom - I'm kind of a mobile writer, so I sort of move around the house. But the attic is definitely where I can make the most noise. While everyone on the lower floors screams 'Earthquake!' But no! It's just my bass!
I always imagined a writer was someone who lived in an attic in Paris, but my mum instilled in me a belief that I could do anything - so I ended up writing my first novel while working nights as a news reporter.
The olive-grove of Academe, / Plato's retirement, where the Attic bird / Trills her thick-warbled notes the summer long.
The classic think-tank is supposed to be sitting in an attic thinking up grand ideas.