Best 3882 quotes in «fire quotes» category

Your destiny is forged in the fires of your determination

You're going to set us all on fire, you homicidal feral fruitcake.

You're like something drawn with the sun's fire, and I can take only little glimpses of you.

You're never been wrong before, Spottedleaf. If StarClan has spoken, then it must be so. Fire will save our Clan. -Bluestar, Into the Wild

You're the brightest thing I've ever seen, Kaylee. You're this beautiful ball of fire spitting sparks out at the world, burning fiercely, holding back the dark by sheer will. And I always knew that if I reached out -- if i tried to touch you -- I'd get burned. Because you're not mine. I'm not supposed to feel the fire. I'm not supposed to want it. But I do. I want you, Kaylee, like I've never wanted anything. Ever. I want the fire. I want the heat, and the light, and I want the burn.

Your eyes flashed fire into my soul. I immediately read the words of Dostoyevsky and Karl Marx, and in the words of Albert Schweitzer, I FANCY YOU!

Your hand is cold, mine burns like fire. How blind you are, Nastenka!

Your hair is winter fire January embers My heart burns there, too.

Your job, work, life assignment must be the spark that fuels your fire. It must be a passion that you pursue. You must want it enough to do it for free. You must be willing to stick with it, taking the ups and downs, giving it all that you are for as long as you can! You’ve got to taste it, smell it, know it whether you are awake or asleep. If you do not have a lustful passion for your work, you really need to find something else to do.

Your life sparks fires from within your innermost temple. No one can reach there but you, it is your inner sanctum. You are your own master there, only you can reach and ignite the fire.

Your property is in danger when your neighbour's house is on fire.

Your trousers are on fire. I would have told you, but you so dislike advice.

You see all these old buildings [in Rio] going down or catching fire overnight, and it is so sad. I am very connected with these buildings because they are our history. It is the only one that we have.

You set fire to my house, killed my family, and ate my dog. But steal my boyfriend? That's a step too far.

You see layers as you look down. you see clouds towering up. You see their shadows on the sunlit plains, and you see a ship's wake in the Indian Ocean and brush fires in Africa and a lightning storm walking its way across Australia. You see the reds and the pinks of the Australian desert, and it's just like a stereoscopic view of all nature, except you're a hundred ninety miles up.

You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain, too much love drives a man insane. You broke my will, but what a thrill. Goodness gracious, great balls of fire.

You should know what happens when you play with fire, Cahill. Eventually, you'll get burned.

You shouldn't do that," said Laura. "You could set yourself on fire.

You should not look at what the person used to do, rather you should look at what kind of person they are today. The one who gets bogged down about people's pasts, is just like Iblees who said to Allaah, “You created me from fire and you created him from clay”.

You smoke? (Randy) Only when I’m on fire. (Steele) I don’t appreciate your humor, Mr. Steele. (Randy) I’m an acquired taste. (Steele)

You told us over and over that you don’t think you could live without books, but the ironic thing is, you’d probably die before you’d think to rip pages out of one to start a fire. Am I right? Well, get over it already. Better to be warm then well-read.

You've got to be a little vicious. You've got to be narcissistic. You've got to be on fire about your career.

You've got to believe in yourself, you've got to have a very clear vision, and you've got have the fire in the belly and go out and not be shy with working because it takes a lot of work.

You've probably heard the term, 'red flag warning.' That means there are extreme conditions. Low humidity, high temperatures. The fuels are extremely dry and volatile. We classify those in East Tennessee as 'fire days' so if your fire class day is a 1, it's relatively low. A class 5 day would be an extremely high danger day. A day like Sunday would be a 4 or a 5.

You want to ensure people can do it right 99 percent of time. When we have to fire one of our surgical trainees, it is never because they dont have the physical skills but because they dont have the moral skills - to practise and admit failure.

You were born to run. Maybe not that fast, maybe not that far, maybe not as efficiently as others. But to get up and move, to fire up that entire energy-producing, oxygen-delivering, bone-strengthening process we call running.

You were the kind of kid who couldn't see the difference between throwing rocks at a cat and setting it on fire.

You will die a worse death if you do not leave my domain,” a voice thundered down from the third story of the old tenement. “I am a servant of the Sacred Fire, the wielder of the flame of Arnor—” “So I should call you Gandalf?

You will hear thunder and remember me, And think: she wanted storms. The rim Of the sky will be the colour of hard crimson, And your heart, as it was then, will be on fire.

You who live your lives in cities or among peaceful ways cannot always tell whether your friends are the kind who would go through fire for you. But on the Plains one's friends have an opportunity to prove their mettle.

Zeal is that pure and heavenly flame,The fire of love supplies ;While that which often bears the name,Is self in a disguise.True zeal is merciful and mild,Can pity and forbear ;The false is headstrong, fierce and wild,And breathes revenge and war.

Yule—Yul log for the Christmas-fire tale-spinner—of fairy tales that can come true: Yul Brynner.

A forest fire was making its way along the tinderbox ridges above them, flaring and shimmering against the overcast like the northern lights. Cold as it was he stood there a long time. The color of it moved something in him long forgotten. Make a list. Recite a litany. Remember.

A boy and a girl, fated to rule all. Two will rise, and One will fall.

A fire, if it is large enough, is not easily contained. Sparks fly out, and the wind carries them in all directions. Like its brothers, the fire...in Mirusia’s heart spewed forth sparks, and, without her consciously realizing what was happening, they began to ignite that which had no reason to be burned.

A candle can only illuminate its world by allowing itself to be set on fire.

Advice is superfluous to you, allies are superfluous, you’ll get by without any travelling companions. The goal of your expedition is, after all, personal and private. More than that, the nature of the goal demands that you accomplish it alone, in person. The risks, dangers, hardships and constant struggle with doubt must only burden you. For, after all, they are components of the penance, the expiation of guilt you want to earn. A baptism of fire, I’d say. You’ll pass through fire, which burns, but also purges. And you’ll do it alone. For were someone to support you in this, help you, take on even a scrap of that baptism of fire, that pain, that penance, they would, by the same token, impoverish you. They would deprive you of part of the expiation you desire, which would be owed to them for their involvement. After all, it should be your exclusive expiation.

After the fire died down, what remained were two charred hearts, that once beat as one.

After the fire passed us it marched on across the dune tops into the Kalahari, lighting the night sky like a spectacular sunset. Behind it, the cool pink glow of burned-out trees and logs remained, until the fire’s crimson was lost in the blush of dawn.

Ah earth you old extinguisher.

A growing heat, like a million blazing suns all focused on me, lit my insides. It felt like I was being cooked in the Gabriella Roast Cooker, me spinning around-and-around to heat my flesh evenly. For some reason I was having trouble comprehending the sudden change in my revolving world as I swelled with a horrible, billowing fire.

A kind of northing is what I wish to accomplish, a single-minded trek towards that place where any shutter left open to the zenith at night will record the wheeling of all the sky’s stars as a pattern of perfect, concentric circles. I seek a reduction, a shedding, a sloughing off. At the seashore you often see a shell, or fragment of a shell, that sharp sands and surf have thinned to a wisp. There is no way you can tell what kind of shell it had been, what creature it had housed; it could have been a whelk or a scallop, a cowrie, limpet, or conch. The animal is long since dissolved, and its blood spread and thinned in the general sea. All you hold in your hand is a cool shred of shell, an inch long, pared so thin that it passes a faint pink light. It is an essence, a smooth condensation of the air, a curve. I long for the North where unimpeded winds would hone me to such a pure slip of bone. But I’ll not go northing this year. I’ll stalk that floating pole and frigid air by waiting here. I wait on bridges; I wait, struck, on forest paths and meadow’s fringes, hilltops and banksides, day in and day out, and I receive a southing as a gift. The North washes down the mountains like a waterfall, like a tidal wave, and pours across the valley; it comes to me. It sweetens the persimmons and numbs the last of the crickets and hornets; it fans the flames of the forest maples, bows the meadow’s seeded grasses and pokes it chilling fingers under the leaf litter, thrusting the springtails and the earthworms deeper into the earth. The sun heaves to the south by day, and at night wild Orion emerges looming like the Specter over Dead Man Mountain. Something is already here, and more is coming.

Aidha, tunaweza kupata inkishafi kutokana na asili ya miili yetu, matukio fulani ya wakati ujao yana asili yake katika ndoto za binadamu. Ndoto hizo au maono hayo ni ishara ya kile kinachokuja mbele katika maisha ya mtu; kama vile afya, ugonjwa au hatari. Ukiota kuhusu moto, hiyo ni ishara ya hasira – unatakiwa kuwa na hekima; ukiota kuhusu mimba na unajifungua, hiyo ni ishara ya kuwa katika mchakato wa kutengeneza wazo jipya – unatakiwa kushukuru; ukiota unaruka angani, hiyo ni ishara ya tumaini – unatakiwa kushukuru; ukiota kuhusu maji au kiowevu kingine chochote kile, hiyo ni ishara ya siri na wakati mwingine ni ishara ya kuwa na matatizo ya kiafya kama utaota kuhusu maji machafu – unatakiwa kuwa msiri na msafi; ukiota kuhusu ardhi, hiyo ni ishara ya huzuni – unatakiwa kuomba; na ukiota kuhusu Yesu, hiyo ni ishara ya mafanikio – unatakiwa kushukuru.

All at once, something wonderful happened, although at first, it seemed perfectly ordinary. A female goldfinch suddenly hove into view. She lighted weightlessly on the head of a bankside purple thistle and began emptying the seedcase, sowing the air with down. The lighted frame of my window filled. The down rose and spread in all directions, wafting over the dam’s waterfall and wavering between the tulip trunks and into the meadow. It vaulted towards the orchard in a puff; it hovered over the ripening pawpaw fruit and staggered up the steep faced terrace. It jerked, floated, rolled, veered, swayed. The thistle down faltered down toward the cottage and gusted clear to the woods; it rose and entered the shaggy arms of pecans. At last it strayed like snow, blind and sweet, into the pool of the creek upstream, and into the race of the creek over rocks down. It shuddered onto the tips of growing grasses, where it poised, light, still wracked by errant quivers. I was holding my breath. Is this where we live, I thought, in this place in this moment, with the air so light and wild? The same fixity that collapses stars and drives the mantis to devour her mate eased these creatures together before my eyes: the thick adept bill of the goldfinch, and the feathery coded down. How could anything be amiss? If I myself were lighter and frayed, I could ride these small winds, too, taking my chances, for the pleasure of being so purely played. The thistle is part of Adam’s curse. “Cursed is the ground for thy sake, in sorrow shalt thou eat of it; thorns also and thistles shall it bring forth to thee.” A terrible curse: But does the goldfinch eat thorny sorrow with the thistle or do I? If this furling air is fallen, then the fall was happy indeed. If this creekside garden is sorrow, then I seek martyrdom. I was weightless; my bones were taut skins blown with buoyant gas; it seemed that if I inhaled too deeply, my shoulders and head would waft off. Alleluia.

all theories like cliches shot to hell, all these small faces looking up beautiful and believing; I wish to weep but sorrow is stupid. I wish to believe but believe is a graveyard. we have narrowed it down to the butcherknife and the mockingbird wish us luck.

all people start to come apart finally and there it is: just empty ashtrays in a room or wisps of hair on a comb in the dissolving moonlight.

Allow your hearts to be driven by principle, not bias. Love, not hate. Unity, not division. The fire of your dreams, not the rain of your sorrows.

All the carriages filed out in single file but in a fashion that seemed to mean that they were competing against each other. The only sound that could be heard for a while was the pounding of the horses’ hooves and the squeal and groan of the wheels against the road. Their hooves kicked up dirt, creating a storm of dust. Once the miniature storm and the sound of galloping horses subsided, I could only see one last person. He glared up at me and mouthed, “Next time.” Christopher dug his boots into Dawn’s muscled flank. She reared up and broke into a gallop through the sparse forest, heading for escape. The last trace of them was the particles of floating dust, bright like floating fire.

Alone in the dark, the Creator lights a flame of fire, to guide my path.

And he didn't get tired or sleepy, for the beauty burned in him like fire.