grey lion statue

The Lion lies in his lair in the perpendicular face of a low cliff — for he is carved from the living rock of the cliff. The broken spear is sticking in his shoulder, his protecting paw rests upon the lilies of France. The place is a sheltered, reposeful woodland nook, remote from noise and stir and confusion — and all this is fitting, for lions do die in such places, and not on granite pedestals in public squares fenced with fancy iron railings. The Lion of Lucerne would be impressive anywhere, but nowhere so impressive as where he is. — Mark Twain