Mezzanine Floor Quotes

I thought I appreciated books, but this was an alter to the book gods. It was hard not to be impressed. I didn't know what had the most impact: the rosewood shelving, the rolling library ladders, the mezzanine floor with the ornate spiral wrought-iron staircases at each end, the carved moldings, the scent of well-loved books, or the silky Aubusson rugs in a soft faded palette of rose, sage and aqua.

Warren Buffett, the “Sage of Omaha” whose shrewd investments have made him one of the world’s richest men, has a stake in the marijuana industry via Cubic Designs, a company that provides mezzanine floor-space for warehouses. Cubic Designs dropped flyers off at 1,000 marijuana dispensaries, urging them to “double your growing space,” with a picture of metal flooring loaded with cannabis plants. The Sage himself made no comment.

He dined in a restaurant in the Rua dos Correeiros, on a mezzanine floor with a low ceiling, solitary among solitary men.

Harry took the other chair and opened his parcel. After reading the first few lines of the top page, he made a sound of discomfort and winced visibly. “Good God.” “What is it?” Poppy asked. “One of our regular guests—Lord Pencarrow—injured himself late last evening.” “Oh, dear.” Poppy’s brow furrowed. “And he’s such a nice old gentleman. What happened? Did he take a fall?” “Not exactly. He slid down the banister of the grand staircase, from the mezzanine level to the ground floor.” Harry paused uncomfortably. “He made it all the way to the end of the balustrade—where he crashed into the pineapple ornament on top of the newel post.” “Why would a man in his eighties do such a thing?” Poppy asked in bewilderment. Harry sent her a sardonic smile. “I imagine he was in his cups.” Merripen was cringing. “One can only be glad his child-siring years are behind him.

The Afterlife is filled with the heavenly scent of musty books. Its walls are lined with tall bookshelves full of forgotten tomes. In this cozy mezzanine between worlds, there are no windows nor clocks, though an occasional echo of children’s laughter or whiff of a chocolate croissant wafts in from the ground floor.

The Captain of the Guard opened the doors reluctantly, the strong muscles of his back shifting as he pushed hard against the worn oak. Compared to the sunlit hallway, the interior that stretched beyond them seemed formidably dark, but as she stepped inside, candelabras came into view, along with black and white marble floors, large mahogany tables with red velvet chairs, a slumbering fire, mezzanines, bridges, ladders, railings, and then books--- books and books and books.

I studied with fresh interest the origination of the boiling bubbles in the Revere pan as I waited to pour in the Ronzoni shells: at the very beginning of boiling, grains of mercury broke free and rose upward only from special points on the floor of the pan, requiring a little scratch or irregularity in the metal to harbor their change of phase; later several beaded curtains of midsized spheres streamed where the parallel curves of the electric coil were most completely in contact with the pan's underside; later still, as glutinous, toad-like globes of hard boiling took over, my glasses misted—and I was reminded of being awakened by my parents years earlier from dreams in which I been trying to drink very thick shakes through impossibly slender straws.

I studied with fresh interest the origination of the boiling bubbles in the Revere pan as I waited to pour in the Ronzoni shells: at the very beginning of boiling, grains of mercury broke free and rose upward only from special points on the floor of the pan, requiring a little scratch or irregularity in the metal to harbor their change of phase; later several beaded curtains of midsized spheres streamed where the parallel curves of the electric coil were most completely in contact with the pan's underside; later still, as glutinous, toad-like globes of hard boiling took over, my glasses misted—and I was reminded of being awakened by my parents years earlier from dreams in which I had been trying to drink very thick shakes through impossibly slender straws.

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Its 132 rooms, 147 windows, 28 fireplaces, 8 staircases, and 3 elevators are spread across the 6 floors—plus 2 hidden mezzanine levels—all tucked within what appears to be a three-story building. The

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Compared to the sunlit hallway, the interior that stretched beyond them seemed formidably dark, but as she stepped inside, candelabras came into view, along with black-and-white marble floors, large mahogany tables with red velvet chairs, a slumbering fire, mezzanines, bridges, ladders, railings, and then books—books and books and books. She’d entered a city made entirely of leather and paper. Celaena put a hand against her heart.

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Her chances of a decent marriage were about to be dashed—and all because of a ferret. Unfortunately Poppy Hathaway had pursued Dodger halfway through the Rutledge Hotel before she recalled an important fact: to a ferret, a straight line included six zigs and seven zags. “Dodger,” Poppy said desperately. “Come back. I’ll give you a biscuit, any of my hair ribbons, anything! Oh, I’m going to make a scarf out of you . . .” As soon as she caught her sister’s pet, Poppy swore she was going to alert the management of the Rutledge that Beatrix was harboring wild creatures in their family suite, which was definitely against hotel policy. Of course, that might cause the entire Hathaway clan to be forcibly removed from the premises. At the moment, Poppy didn’t care. Dodger had stolen a love letter that had been sent to her from Michael Bayning, and nothing in the world mattered except retrieving it. All the situation needed was for Dodger to hide the blasted thing in some public place where it would be discovered.  ... The ferret paused at a corner, checked to make certain he was still being chased, and in his happy excitement, he did a little war dance, a series of sideways hops that expressed pure delight. Even now, when Poppy wanted to murder him, she couldn’t help but acknowledge that he was adorable. “You’re still going to die,” she told him, approaching him in as unthreatening a manner as possible. “Give me the letter, Dodger.” The ferret streaked past a colonnaded lightwell that admitted sunshine from overhead and sent it down three floors to the mezzanine level. Grimly, Poppy wondered how far she was going to have to chase him. He could cover quite a lot of territory, and the Rutledge was massive, occupying five full blocks in the theater district. “This,” she muttered beneath her breath, “is what happens when you’re a Hathaway. Misadventures . . . wild animals . . . house fires . . . curses . . . scandals . . .

Good God.” “What is it?” Poppy asked. “One of our regular guests—Lord Pencarrow—injured himself late last evening.” “Oh, dear.” Poppy’s brow furrowed. “And he’s such a nice old gentleman. What happened? Did he take a fall?” “Not exactly. He slid down the banister of the grand staircase, from the mezzanine level to the ground floor.” Harry paused uncomfortably. “He made it all the way to the end of the balustrade—where he crashed into the pineapple ornament on top of the newel post.” “Why would a man in his eighties do such a thing?” Poppy asked in bewilderment. Harry sent her a sardonic smile. “I imagine he was in his cups.” Merripen was cringing. “One can only be glad his child-siring years are behind him.

Established over 10 years ago by Steve Doyle, a professional with over 25 years experience in commercial mezzanine installation & refurbishments, SR Doyle today provide businesses & homeowners with exceptional quality mezzanine flooring, space utilisation advice & total refurbishments.