Caves Quotes

“Can you believe I have a favorite cave?”
― Veronica Rossi, Under the Never Sky

“Libraries are like caves. They are places of transformation. There are secrets hidden within those walls.”
― Suzy Davies

“After the monkeys came down from the trees and learned to hurl sharp objects, they had had to move into caves for protection--not only from the big predatory cats but, as they began to lose their monkey fur, from the elements. Eventually, they started transposing their hunting fantasies onto cave walls in the form of pictures, first as an attempt at practical magic and later for the strange, unexpected pleasure they discovered in artistic creation.
Time passed. Art came off the walls and turned into ritual. Ritual became religion. Religion spawned science. Science led to big business. And big business, if it continues on its present mindless, voracious trajectory, could land those of us lucky enough to survive its ultimate legacy back into caves again.”
― Tom Robbins, Villa Incognito

“You see, unlike most writers today, I do not use a computer. I write the old-fashioned way: on the walls of caves.”
― Cuthbert Soup, Another Whole Nother Story

“Writers Are Insane. For months we are lone wolves locked in our caves. Then overnight we become publicity hounds. It's a schizophrenic business.”
― Robert Mykle

“There weren't so very many good boxes on this beach," said Sniff. "But I've made a great discovery."
"What was that?" asked Moomintroll, for a discovery (next to Mysterious Paths, Bathing, and Secrets) was what he liked most of all. Sniff paused and then said dramatically:
"A cave!"
"A real cave," asked Moomintroll, "with a hole to creep in through, and rocky walls, and a sandy floor?"
"Everything!" answered Sniff proudly. "A real cave that I found myself."
"That's splendid!" said Moomintroll. "Wonderful news. A cave is much better than a box.”
― Tove Jansson, Comet in Moominland

“A cave has two great things to teach you: Light is sacred; silence is to integrate with eternity!”
― Mehmet Murat ildan

“There’s nothing to be scared of, right Akhol?”
He said nothing as he stepped toward the rushing water that rolled around a big rock and was swallowed whole by impenetrable darkness.
“Right?” Andrew repeated, his voice swallowed by the sound of rushing water.
Akhol didn’t respond again. He tapped a foot above the water before he stepped in and disappeared beneath the surface in one fluid motion.”
― Laura Kreitzer, Abyss

“Oh wondrous,' murmured Lin Chung. 'Oh, water, mistress of earth, valley spirit, eternal feminine!'
'Taoism again?' Phryne leaned close to hear what he was whispering.
'From the "Tao Te Ching." The old Master should have seen this. All made by water, the female, cold, moon principle.'
'Yin,' said Phryne. 'This is the womb of the earth.'
'Indeed.' He took her hand. 'Completely foreign to all male, hot, sun creatures.'
'Like you?'
'Like me. Yang can only admire and tremble.'
'Come along.' She led him into the centre of the huge space. 'We don't want to get lost in the earthmother's insides.”
― Kerry Greenwood, Urn Burial

“Take it easy, friend," siad Peter, regaining his balance, quickly understanding the condition Henry was in.
"Friend? You left us. In the caves." Henry's muscles tensed.
Peter stepped back cautiously. Henry didn't look like himself.
"Seems someone can't hold his drink," Peter said. He didn't go further, sensing then that Valerie might be thinking of her father.
"And now," Henry continued on his own track, stepping closer to meet him, the smell of alcohol on his breath, "my father, too is dead."
Valerie moved to Henry. "Please, don't do this," she said, stepping in. "It's not worth it."
Henry pushed past her, not realizing his own weight. The force knocked her back. Peter grabbed Henry's arm and twisted it. Overreacting, Henry reared back his fist and landed a punch in the hollow of Peter's eye. The crowd laughed as Peter fell hard to the ground.
Henry scrambled on top him, held him by the collar, forced Peter to face him as he'd never done. He looked into the eyes of the man he wanted to blame for his parents' deaths, because it was a shelter from the terrible thought that everything could be lost to a simple slip of fate. "You filth," he spat out.
This really got the villagers going. But Peter didn't laugh. He pulled a knife from his boot and leapt up, thrusting it viciously in Henry's face.
"Keep your hands off her or I'll cut them off!”
― Sarah Blakley-Cartwright, Red Riding Hood

“Carlsbad Caverns National Park is best described as living artwork.”
― Stefanie Payne, A Year in the National Parks: The Greatest American Road Trip

“If there really are such creatures in here, it would be the discovery of a lifetime.’
'If there really are such creatures in here,’ Sally countered, 'your lifetime might be very short.”
― Christopher Pike, The Haunted Cave

“The sacredness of the world is that it pursued the light; the sanctity of the cave is that it never left the darkness”
― Brian S. Woods

“As we know, bears hibernate in caves. They appear almost lifeless. This is an analog to the practices of ancient shamans, and to Sufis who practice the forty-day halvet (retreat), in which the Shaman would enter a cave, have an experience of dying, explore the spiritual realms, and then is reborn as the Initiate or Master (just as the bear is reborn each spring as it “wakes up” and leaves its cave).”
― Laurence Galian, The Sun at Midnight: The Revealed Mysteries of the Ahlul Bayt Sufis

“Modern architecture predominately specializes in designing what are essentially dimly lit caves.”
― Steven Magee

“There were rumours of underwater cities, subterranean caves dripping with the blood of human sacrifice and even the odd story about natives interbreeding with some of the more attractive fish.”
― David Grimstone, Shoal: A Thanet Writers Anthology

“Before destroying your hidden enemies, destroy his hidden caves”
― J. Lepika

“No dwarf could be unmoved by such loveliness. None of Durin’s race would mine those caves for stones or ore, not if diamonds and gold could be got there. Do you cut down groves of blossoming trees in the springtime for firewood? We could tend these glades of flowering tones, not quarry them. With cautious skill, tap by tap – a small chip of rock and no more, perhaps, in a whole anxious day – so we could work, and as the years went by, we should open up new ways, and display for chambers that are still dark, glimpsed only as a void beyond fissures in the
rock.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings

“My thoughts earthwormed down inside my body, chewing through my inner architecture. It was the feeling of being peeled open, turned inside out. I felt the rhythmic clenching of my heart, my lungs ballooning inside my ribs, my epiglottis flapping open and shut. In the absence of sight, my other senses bloomed. The sound of the stream, which I’d barely noticed when I entered the cave, now filled the whole chamber, unfurling in effusive patterns. Smells—mud, damp limestone—thickened to the point of feeling material. I could taste the cave.”
― Will Hunt, Underground: A Human History of the Worlds Beneath Our Feet

“Caves are cool in warm weather. Beware of bats, however. Bat urine will give you, as well as animals such as dogs, the rabies. Photograph supposedly shows an early man drawing on the walls of a cave. Such cave drawings are nearly all faked but are great tourist attractions. Cave drawings are invariably "discovered" in remote parts of a cave. If they were allegedly found in readily accessible areas of caves, they would be quickly declared to be fakes.”
― George Leonard Herter, How to Get out of the Rat Race and Live on $10 a Month

“Once again he could hear the planet’s joints and lifeblood. Stirrings in the stone. Ancient events. Here, time was like water. The tiniest creatures were his fathers and mothers. The fossils were his children. It made him into remembrance itself. He let his bare palms ricochet upon the walls, drawing in the heat and the cold, the sharp and the smooth. Plunging, galloping, he pawed at the flesh of God. This magnificent rock. This fortress of their being. This was the Word. Earth. Moment by moment, step by step, he felt himself becoming prehistoric. It was a blessed release from human habits. In this vast, capillaried monastery, through these openings and fretted spillways and yawning chthonic fistulae, drinking from pools of water older than mammal life altogether, memory was simply memory. It was not something to be marked on calendars or stored in books or labeled in graphs or drawn on maps. You did not memorize memory any more than you memorized existence. He remembered his way deeper by the taste of the soil and by the drag of air currents that had no cardinal direction. He left behind the cartography of the Holy Land and its entry caves through Jebel el Lawz in the elusive Midian. He forgot the name of the Indian Ocean as he passed beneath it. He felt gold, soft and serpentine, standing from the walls, but no longer recognized it as gold. Time passed, but he gave up counting it. Days? Weeks? He lost his memory even as he gained it.”
― Jeff Long, The Descent

“The Abundant Chamber by Stewart Stafford

Divest yourself of sword and coin,
And burn all your illusions and airs,
Let the cave mouth swallow you,
Go willingly into its dark recesses.

A comforting seashell to the ear,
There is no sound out of place,
Stillness a vast garment grounded,
Encroaching ambiance calms.

Now look within and take stock,
Have you reached your apotheosis?
Be cleansed by pure water pools,
Then become reborn to the light.

© Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford

“There is no mythology about a solid earth. It is either contiguously “honeycombed,” as it were, with extensive caverns and tunnels, and/or it is hollow and habitable within. The mythic record tells us both is the case.”
― Priscilla Vogelbacher, Testament of the Hollow

“The forests, oceans, rivers, mountains, caves, and stars are the only temples you will need.”
― Leo Lourdes, A World of Yoga: 700 Asanas for Mindfulness and Well-Being

“And then the sea, bright and unreal as a painting. She's never seen so many shades of blue" gleaming turquoise near the breakers; further out, a blue so dark it's almost black. Lucy shivers, thinking of the world beneath the spangled waves.
The coastline curves around, so that she can see the cliffs on the other side of the bay, honeycombed with caves. Devil's Lookout. It's the same view she's seen already, on Jess's postcard, but the photographer hadn't quite captured the eeriness of the cliff face. In person, the caves look deeper and darker; one in particular, closest to the waterline, is large enough that she can almost imagine a demon lurking there, surveying the sea below.
A prickle starts at the base of Lucy's spine. Maybe it's the knowledge of what the water would do to her skin. She imagines the waves lapping at her like tongues, stripping her of flesh until she is nothing but bone, gleaming white.
Or perhaps it's the podcast; the thought of all those missing men, presumed drowned. But with the prickling fear there's a strange pull, too. Lucy struggles to tear her gaze from the bright waves, mesmerized by the way they curl over the shore. A part of her wants to get closer, to feel spindrift on her face, slick rock beneath her palms.”
― Emilia Hart, The Sirens

“Strange are the ways of Men, Legolas! Here they have one of the marvels of the Northern World, and what do they say of it? Caves, they say! Caves! Holes to fly to in time of war, to store fodder in! My good Legolas, do you know that the caverns of Helm’s Deep are vast and beautiful? There would be an endless pilgrimage of Dwarves, merely to gaze at them, if such things were known to be. Aye indeed, they would pay pure gold for a brief glance!’

‘And I would give gold to be excused,’ said Legolas; ‘and double to be let out, if I strayed in!’

‘You have not seen, so I forgive your jest,’ said Gimli. ‘But you speak like a fool. Do you think those halls are fair, where your King dwells under the hill in Mirkwood, and Dwarves helped in their making long ago? They are but hovels compared with the caverns I have seen here: immeasurable halls, filled with an everlasting music of water that tinkles into pools, as fair as Kheled-zâram in the starlight.

‘And, Legolas, when the torches are kindled and men walk on the sandy floors under the echoing domes, ah! then, Legolas, gems and crystals and veins of precious ore glint in the polished walls; and the light glows through folded marbles, shell-like, translucent as the living hands of Queen Galadriel. There are columns of white and saffron and dawn-rose, Legolas, fluted and twisted into dreamlike forms; they spring up from many-coloured floors to meet the glistening pendants of the roof: wings, ropes, curtains fine as frozen clouds; spears, banners, pinnacles of suspended palaces! Still lakes mirror them: a glimmering world looks up from dark pools covered with clear glass; cities. such as the mind of Durin could scarce have imagined in

his sleep, stretch on through avenues and pillared courts, on into the dark recesses where no light can come. And plink! a silver drop falls, and the round wrinkles in the glass make all the towers bend and waver like weeds and corals in a grotto of the sea. Then evening comes: they fade and twinkle out; the torches pass on into another chamber and another dream. There is chamber after chamber, Legolas; hall opening out of hall, dome after dome, stair beyond stair; and still the winding paths lead on into the mountains’ heart. Caves! The Caverns of Helm’s Deep! Happy was the chance that drove me there! It makes me weep to leave them.’

‘Then I will wish you this fortune for your comfort, Gimli,’ said the Elf, ‘that you may come safe from war and return to see them again. But do not tell all your kindred! There seems little left for them to do, from your account. Maybe the men of this land are wise to say little: one family of busy dwarves with hammer and chisel might mar more than they made.’

‘No, you do not understand,’ said Gimli. ‘No dwarf could be unmoved by such loveliness. None of Durin’s race would mine those caves for stones or ore, not if diamonds and gold could be got there. Do you cut down groves of blossoming trees in the spring-time for firewood? We would tend these glades of flowering stone, not quarry them. With cautious skill, tap by tap – a small chip of rock and no more, perhaps, in a whole anxious day – so we could work, and as the years went by, we should open up new ways, and display far chambers that are still dark, glimpsed only as a void beyond fissures in the rock. And lights, Legolas! We should make lights, such lamps as once shone in Khazaddûm; and when we wished we would drive away the night that has lain there since the hills were made; and when we desired rest, we would let the night return.”
― Tolkien J R R

“Light moves differently underground.”
― Nathan Lofland, Underground Echoes: Field Edition: A Short Memoir of Grief, Wilderness, and Return

“Rope taught me to grieve slowly. Deliberately. To enter dark spaces not to conquer them, but to move through them with care, purpose, and trust in what I’d built.”
― Nathan Lofland, Underground Echoes: Field Edition: A Short Memoir of Grief, Wilderness, and Return

“The cave doesn’t change for you, but it allows you to change for it.”
― Nathan Lofland, Underground Echoes: Field Edition: A Short Memoir of Grief, Wilderness, and Return

“Down wasn’t where I was lost; it was where truth waited.”
― Nathan Lofland, Underground Echoes: Field Edition: A Short Memoir of Grief, Wilderness, and Return