Houses - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
The houses stood together in all seasons, feeling the rain and sunshine just the same. In any weather they sheltered our families, stood firm against the winter wind, yet let in brilliant light even as it blew. That's how they were on our street, shoulder to shoulder as if welded there at their birth. Those walls heard my pain, even the silent screams, the ones so shrill behind unsmiling smiles, and they heard my laughter too, the sort that painted the walls with my soul. I wish things had been easier, but I don't know who I'd have become without the hurt. All I know is that these streets saw it all, the concrete and tarmac that was my mother and father.
A surplus of chimneys badly built at jaunty angles stuck out preposterously, giving the roof the look of an eccentric party hat, the roof was pitched at such a sharp angle that no roofer had dared go on it to repair the missing slate tiles that had blown off in last November's storm. The front window was a large bay giving it's owner lots of opportunities for curtain twitching.
... a narrow road bordered on each side by a terrace of small houses. They were identical, with their small upper windows, narrow porches and square bays. but it was obvious that the road was coming up in the world. Some few still showed the tell-tale signs of multiple occupation: dishevelled lawns, peeling paint and drawn secretive curtains. But these were succeeded by bright little bandboxes of social aspiration: newly painted doors, carriage lamps, an occasional hanging basket, the front garden paved to provide standing for the car.
But not even the soft wash of dusk could help the houses. Only dynamite would be of any use against the Mexican ranch houses, Samoan huts, Mediterranean villas, Egyptian and Japanese temples, Swiss chalets, Tudor cottages, and every possible combination of these styles that lined the slopes of the canyon.
...at the houses of Queen's Row, their ancient arching plaster facades painted vivid colors sun-bleached to pastels; at the old gray stone church, and the white-washed Georgian brick pile of the Sir Francis Drake Inn.
Found in Don't Stop the Carnival, authored by .
The houses of the central village were quite unlike the casual and higgledy-piggledy agglomeration of the mountain villages he knew; they stood in a continuous row on either side of a central street of astonishing cleanness; here and there their pari-coloured facade was pierced by a door, and not a solitary window broke their even frontage. They were parti-coloured with extraordinary irregularity; smeared with a sort of plaster that was sometimes grey, sometimes drab, sometimes slate coloured or dark brown;...
Stretching out of sight on either side of the road were identical semi detached houses, each with a path running down the side. They might, she thought, be architecturally undistinguished, but at least they were on a human scale. The gates and railings had been removed and the front gardens were bounded with low brick walls. The front bay windows were square and turreted, a long vista of ramparted respectability.
The houses were a pale golden brick washed black by more than a century of sooty air. Though the city's pollution problem was long gone, the duo tone of the walls remained. There was no gap between the houses except a narrow walkway every few homes to allow access to the gardens and even those were covered by the first floor of the dwellings. Every door was black, every front had iron railings leaving the only difference to be the numbers and the occupants.
The gloom inside the houses was less a function of the overcast skies than the mean proportions of the windows and the fashion for heavy cotton drapes. The effect was a welcome coolness in the summer months and oppressive darkness in the winter.
Iron staircase leading to secluded roof terrace, terracotta pots, cedar wood round breakfast table and two chairs, view of the city spires, Sunday peel of bells.
Two storey, a concrete box with pyramidal roof of corrugated iron. House faces south, no protection from the sun, only rear rooms comfortably habitable temperature. External rough wooden staircase hung on rear of house, heavy planks, unstable frame, warped banister.
dark wooden window frames, white plastic window frames, blooming window boxes, neatly mowed lawn bordered with flower beds, weedy window boxes with peeling paint, disintegrate window boxes, mossy stone wall, moss covered statues, marble statues in their niches
peeling paint, newly painted, drawn curtains, carriage lamps, hanging basket, paved driveway, smoke blackened brick, grime encrusted, asphalt drive, railing fence, white picket fence, red brick, honey yellow brick, two storey, three storey, privet hedge
terraced, wrought iron balconies, cobbled yard, lattice windows, long high window, facade of brickwork, bungalow, little more than a shack, cottage, grimy, Victorian brick, attic storey, round windows, unadorned, hovel, dishevelled lawns