Best 3882 quotes in «fire quotes» category

Yes, it’s tough, it’s tough, that goes without saying. But isn’t waiting itself and longing a wonder, being played on by wind, sun, and shade?

Bourbon, Kentucky bourbon especially, is like Dante’s Inferno in a glass, fire walks down your throat, lungs, and heart and everything in between with an unpleasant after-taste. We got along just fine.

Both her father’s hands bore the scars of old burns: the lines a map of a place no one wanted to remember, and Ross couldn’t forget.

Bring me my bow of burning gold Bring me my arrows of desire Bring me my spear— o'clouds, unfold! Bring me my chariot of fire

But clouds bellied out in the sultry heat, the sky cracked open with a crimson gash, spewed flame-and the ancient forest began to smoke. By morning there was a mass of booming, fiery tongues, a hissing, crashing, howling all around, half the sky black with smoke, and the bloodied sun just barely visible. And what can little men do with their spades, ditches, and pails? The forest is no more, it was devoured by fire: stumps and ash. Perhaps illimitable fields will be plowed here one day, perhaps some new, unheard-of wheat will ripen here and men from Arkansas with shaven faces will weigh in their palms the heavy golden grain. Or perhaps a city will grow up-alive with ringing sound and motion, all stone and crystal and iron-and winged men will come here flying over seas and mountains from all ends of the world. But never again the forest, never again the blue winter silence and the golden silence of summer. And only the tellers of tales will speak in many-colored patterned words about what had been, about wolves and bears and stately green-coated century-old grandfathers, about old Russia; they will speak about all this to us who have seen it with our own eyes ten years - a hundred years! - ago, and to those others, the winged ones, who will come in a hundred years to listen and to marvel at it all as at a fairy tale. ("In Old Russia")

This is what I had come for, just this, and nothing more. A fling of leafy motion on the cliffs, the assault of real things, living and still, with shapes and powers under the sky- this is my city, my culture, and all the world I need.

Break the law or be fired.

But the constant motion of the flames soon lulled him into a passive state where unrelated fragments of thoughts, sounds, images, and emotions drifted through him like snowflakes falling from a calm winter's sky.

Cal stares ahead, as if his eyes alone can set the entire world on fire. I think he wants to. That would make this easier.

Cal's eyes flicker, out to the trees. But he's not looking at the leaves. His gaze is in the past, to something more painful. "She killed my true mother as well. And she'll kill all of us if we let her." The words come out hard and harsh, a rusty blade to saw flesh. They taste wonderful in my mouth. "Not if I kill her first." For all his talents, Cal is not a violent person. He can kill you in a thousand different ways, lead an army, burn down a village, but he will not enjoy it. So his next words take me by surprise. "When the time comes," he says, staring at me, "we'll flip a coin." His bright flame has grown dark indeed.

Causing any damage or harm to one party in order to help another party is not justice, and likewise, attacking all feminine conduct [in order to warn men away from individual women who are deceitful] is contrary to the truth, just as I will show you with a hypothetical case. Let us suppose they did this intending to draw fools away from foolishness. It would be as if I attacked fire -- a very good and necessary element nevertheless -- because some people burnt themselves, or water because someone drowned. The same can be said of all good things which can be used well or used badly. But one must not attack them if fools abuse them.

Child of shadows, once born of flesh Un-winged, amidst fear and agony ‘Fraid of the lurking and yet to come Oblivious, to the code of chivalry. Voids in his desire were unveiled, as Love taught him; death with dignity. In desire to be and in wanting to live His wretched soul began to purge, As he wept at the beauty of night He commenced to sing his own dirge, Then born again of fire; ascended, Like Phoenix must burn to emerge.

Choose wisely From those who start A fire in your heart. Some may burn you to shreds, While you were looking for warmth.

Colored people don't like Little Black Sambo. Burn it. White people don't feel good about Uncle Tom's Cabin. Burn it. Someone's written a book on tobacco and cancer of the lungs? The cigarette people are weeping? Burn the book. Serenity, Montag. Peace, Montag. Take your fight outside. Better yet, into the incinerator. Funerals are unhappy and pagan? Eliminate them, too. Five minutes after a person is dead he's on his way to the Big Flue, the Incinerators serviced by helicopters all over the country. Ten minutes after death a man's a speck of black dust. Let's not quibble over individuals with memoriams. Forget them. Burn all, burn everything. Fire is bright and fire is clean.

But I will love you in this fire and blood And I will be the keeper of your smile

But—I’m leaving.” Not without me.

Creo que a veces no sentimos todo lo que somos, pero los demás sí lo notan.

Curiosity is a strong fire, and once ignited, it is not easily put out.

Cuesta tanto seguir con vida -le susurró a la mente de la dama-. Morir es fácil. Déjame morir.

Damage report, sir?” Skotchdopole asked, climbing off his console into his seat. “To hell with that!” he roared, this was no accidental side-effect of arriving – it was clear they were under attack by hostile aliens. “Fire! Shoot the crap outta them!

Deep blackness waits outside; a veiled inferno it attempts to hide. We see no more than dark clouds growing, but set inside, a fire is glowing.

Despite his care, Reid was still playing with fire, the kind that could without warning sheathe one’s whole life in irreversible conflagration.

derelict. my voice cracked and yolk poured out. wind chimes rigid, no breeze, no song. my wings found hidden in your suitcase. pleas for help mistaken for a swan song. i'm stuffing pages from my journal down my throat as kindling. hoping the smoke will get the taste of you out of my mouth. he looks at me from across the room and all i want is to push him against the wall. ravage. ravage. carnage has never been more vogue. is it still art if it doesn't bring you to your knees? lover, let me prey at your altar. let me bare my fangs in praise. don't i look so pretty in a funeral shroud? i keep time with the click of my creaking bones. dance with me under the milky translucence of a world suffocating. how did you find me? i buried myself beneath the cicadas. is a girl trapped in glass still a prize? let me get under your skin. i want to know what your fears taste like. i want to consume.

Documentary evidence says where there is smoke there is fire, be it holy smoke or otherwise.

Does it get any better than sleeping next to you on a cold rainy night? Watching myself in your eyes and the way I shine in there. Hearing the drizzle and getting weaker every time the breeze touches our bare skin. Every time you smile, these little butterflies with their wings on fire, flies inside my heart and I constantly fail to cage these feelings in mere words. All I need at that moment is you inside my arms. And to stay a prisoner inside your eyes, for an eternity.

Do not give them a candle to light the way, teach them how to make fire instead. That is the meaning of enlightenment.

Do not try quiet my voice. Do not attempt to soften my edges or tame my prowl. I am inhabiting my wild. I am encompassing the dance. I am no longer burning down. That time is over. I am the white hot ignition. I am starting the fire. I am rising like flame.

Dawn raced like fire across the savanna.

Don't mistake fire for sparks and flames...
 Sparks bring happiness, warmth, and comfort. Fire will corrupt, confuse, burn, and hurt.

DICK’S DESIRE Dick's eyes- Soft, cold, and blue- Meet Devonshire's- Dark, sexy, and yearning. Turning away- Dick grabs two packets of sugar- While Devonshire's eyes- Are still upon him- Pondering his every move. Is Dick a playboy, A ladies' man, A mans' man, Or a killer? Does his sex long for, Something hard- Or something soft? Does he need cream in his coffee- The screaming splash of a man, Or the sweet flow of a woman? Finishing up at the bar- Dick turns to leave- Meets Devonshire's gaze again- Hot, thirsty, and longing- But full of trepidation. Following the flow of etiquette- Dick shoots out of the cafe, Past Devonshire, And into a world of dashed hopes, And regrets. But Devonshire- No longer of two worlds- Rises in pursuit- Goes after Dick, And taps him on the shoulder. Dick gives a turn, Raises his shoulders, And smiles with interest- Taking Devonshire's hand, And asking his name. Devonshire answers- Desire. Dick invites Devonshire to dinner, Where he eats everything, Swallowing Dick's life stories, And devouring his misgivings. For dessert, Devonshire takes Dick home, Into his bed, Against his flesh, And gives Dick all of him- His deepest desires, The love in his eyes, And the fire in his soul.

Dreams are like the old stories where wolves are seekers always running, and women carry fire in their bare hands and light the dark paths before them. Old stories hold that the birds will fly all the miles of the world to tell your secrets to the rising moon, and men will walk over oceans of ice to find one truth.

Dream sets us on fire. Dream gives us direction. Dream betters our potential. Dream helps us prioritize. Dream adds value to our work and life. Dream colors our future.

Drink,” he commanded, seeing the look of hunger, of passion, in the boy’s eyes. The intensity of his blood had awoken the predatory fire that lay within all men.

Each one's no longer conscious Of the high wall, or the rest: Since the one enduring fortress, Is the soldier's iron breast. If you’d live unconquered, Quickly arm, and fight the real foe: Every wife an Amazon bred, And every child a hero.

Each one of us has a fire in our heart for something. It is our goal in life to find it and to keep it lit

Earth, water, fire, and wind. Where there is energy there is life.

Earth, water, fire, and wind are states of matter.

El mundo puede hacerse pedazos, pero al menos todos nosotros nos daremos un baño.

Engage in the cover up or be fired.

Envy the fire, for it is either going or not. Fires do not feel happy, sad, angry. They burn, or they do not burn.

Entretanto, mesmo o fogo mais ardente deixa apenas as brasas mais amenas. Bodas verdadeiras são construídas sobre valores e interesses comuns.

Even the girl he'd danced with had thought it was some marvelous trick. She had been enveloped in real, bright fire and she had tipped back her head and laughed, the tumble of her black hair becoming a crackling waterfall of light, the heels of her shoes striking sparks like glittering leaping dust all over the floor, her skirt trailing flame as if he were following a phoenix tail. Magnus had spun and swung with her, and she'd thought he was marvelous for a single moment of bright illusion. But, like love, fire didn't last.

Don't expect everyone to admire this world is made up of hate and fire.

Everybody has a little bit of the sun and moon in them. Everybody has a little bit of man, woman, and animal in them. Darks and lights in them. Everyone is part of a connected cosmic system. Part earth and sea, wind and fire, with some salt and dust swimming in them. We have a universe within ourselves that mimics the universe outside. None of us are just black or white, or never wrong and always right. No one. No one exists without polarities. Everybody has good and bad forces working with them, against them, and within them. PART SUN AND MOON by Suzy Kassem

Every moment those cold fingers of you touches my skin in these rainy nights, they lit fire to my soul a bit at a time. These moments make me crave to be destroyed, even more. In the end, when my whole soul is engulfed in the fire that you have started, I want to pull you into my arms and destroy you too, in every breathtaking way that exists.

Everything burns...you just gotta know what kind of fire to set.

Every King, like the river, is evident by his currents

Fiction with its big question of 'what if?' is one of the most powerful forces in the world. Once upon a time, the ability to light a fire was fictitious.

Fire can destroy or purify, strengthen or weaken, all depending on the nature of the material being burned. Pain has the same effects on the human soul, and for the same reasons.

Fire failure by fighting falsehood. Forget the fears; Fix the future; Flee from fake friends. There is nothing called half-truth. Whatever looks like a lie is a lie!