Best 114 quotes in «flame quotes» category

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    A Christian’s heart for God should be like a teakettle on a flaming stove burner—hot to touch, visibly steaming, and audible.

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    A distant love that waits to be together, is by far the most difficult relationship. It's like lighting a candle, and adoring the long flame and robust glow. Until time sets in like wax, overflowing deeper and deeper into the wick, leaving a sparse flame struggling to live. This is where most distant relationships fade, with the wax smothering the flame. This kind of relationship takes patience, hope, unconditional love, trust and strength, all centered around God. If the flame endures to the end, and the two come together, only then will it feel as if the candle was tipped and all the wax came pouring out, when the flame is revived, long and glowing again.

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    ACTS OF LOVE Love is not a word Or a thought. It is the name for An action That breathes from its light. What do you DO In Love's name? And is it only done Outside In the light? Or with an inner Flame Illuminating Love's TRUE Name? I want to know. Are your actions Done by remote Or with SOUL? And when you say You love someone, Does a light go off Inside at all? What have YOU Done In the Name of LOVE? Because, Really, I want to know.

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    All the whackjob psychologists out there will tell you that grief is a process. Some say it has five stages. Others say that grief should only last two years at the lost, otherwise it's "abnormal". Putting an expiration date of grief though is like putting out the flame on a burning candle. It might stop the candle from melting down and falling apart, but in the long run the candle goes solid, freezes in a catatonic state. Take away a person's grief and guaranteed they'll only be a frozen shell of a human being afterwards. Grief is only love, it's nothing to hide or send away with happy pills and mother's little helpers. Grief is a lifeline connecting two people who are in different realms together, and it's a sign of loyalty and hope.

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    A flame that flickered, And a soul that whimpered, A candle that blazed, And a fragrance that raised.   The flames were fed the same, But one remained diminished, While the other touched vintage!

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

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    A friend is the wax that keeps the flame lit, an enemy is the wind that blows it out.

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    And in the night you realize, when you wake out of a dream, overcome and captivated by the enchantment of visions that crowd in on each other, just how fragile a handhold, how tenuous a boundary separates us from darkness - we are little flames, inadequately sheltered by thin walls from the tempest of dissolution and insensibility in which we flicker and are often all but extinguished. Then the muted sounds of battle surrounds us, and we creep into ourselves and stare wide-eyed into the night.

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    An investment in acting lessons would serve you well. If you can avoid being a total shrew—or criminal, for that matter—you may come to my office.” “I’ll try to control my womanly impulses.” “See that you do.

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    ...and who looks at a shadow when then have a flame? Who would ever choose a monster over a god?

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    Arise, my love, let us try to set these ashes on fire again!

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    And I shall seek you endlessly, for I am a moth, and you’re my flame Knowing that I’ll burn at your touch I return, for you’re a fire; untamed

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    Brixie wasn’t talking to him, or listening to him. Nothing like that at all. Brixie was off in her own world, flaming away like a blowtorch. She was such an Internet fiend that she had never learned any other way to behave.

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    Contemplating a flame perpetuates a primordial reverie. It separates us from the world and enlarges our world as dreamers. In itself the flame is a major presence, but being close to it makes us dream of far away, too far away. The flame is there, feeble and tiny, struggling to stay in existence, and the dreamer goes on to dream of elsewhere, losing his own being by dreaming on a grand, on a too grand scale by dreaming of the world.

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    Cigarette kisses the flame. But the mouth kisses the woman. (Cigarette embrasse la flamme. - Mais la bouche embrasse la femme.)

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    Dancing with heartbreak is the strangest thing. It's like playing with fire; you know you'll get burnt but you are still captivated by the flickering flame and the magnetic heat.

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    Don't let someone keep putting out the flame God keeps re-lighting, we all have a purpose. As a wing to a bird. As wind that goes the destiny over the sea.

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

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    everblaze: the unstoppable flame

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    Confidence is not a wilted plant that can be brought back to life with a bit of water. It is a highly flammable object. Doubt sets it aflame and destroys it irreparably.

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    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.

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    Every time I opened my mouth, flame licked up my throat. I could have razed vil­lages, kid­napped princesses.

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    Faith is the flame that eliminates all fear.

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    Fashion doesn't make you perfect, but it makes you pretty.

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    Faith is holy flame.

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    Flowing like water through the fires of life, Touching the earth through waves of light Reaching for air when you're tired to fight Extinguish the flames, you'll be alright

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    Forbidden things - my God, I'm drawn to them like a moth to a flame.

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    from the Prize winning poem - UNBORN in the book Terra Affirmative. "Under the surface / her body is curled, / seed of the one race, / shell of the world. // She is thw waterfall, / she is the womb, / she is the bubble, /she is the tomb. // Her hair flows upward, / blood red of the birth. / Her arms are folded / deep into the earth. // She is the fern, / she is the bark, / she is the lantern, / she is the dark. // Her eyes burn the flame / of the old and the young. / Her breath is the name / of each branch of each lung. // She is the ingredient. / She is the blend. / She is the beginning. / She is the end.

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    He lit his pipe, and the match head in that room of paper and leather flared up like an idea.

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    Had she allowed the flame to burn so low it was now in danger of complete extinction?

    • flame quotes
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    Her own hair was a glory of copper fire that morning, shining like a whisky still, long and loose in gentle flames down her back.

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    His eyes darted over the surface of my face. Like a moth to a blaze he was hesitant, seeming to crave my warmth but not its inevitable burn. He explored me from a distance with his unspoken desire, with the fear that touching me would set him to flame. I wanted nothing more in that moment than to prove very much the opposite.

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    How did they find out?" Donnal inquired. "Did you set them on fire?" "You know, it's so rare that I actually do that, and yet that's always the first question anyone asks me." -Senneth

    • flame quotes
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    If you haven’t seen, touched, or felt him, how do you know he is real?

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    If you hold a candle close to you, its flame rises. And if you hold it away from you, its flame shrinks. The same way you hold a candle close to you, keep all your plans, aspirations, projects, and dreams close to you too. Do not share your plans or goals until you complete them, because as you hold your candle away from you — envy, jealousy, and resentment may put out your flame before it grows.

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    I know I'm different. I know I don't see the world like everyone else does. But I want to see your world, Maddie. Even if it's the only one I'll ever understand.

    • flame quotes
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    In Hebrew teaching Ruach is the part of the flame closest to the wick. Nephesh is the part of the wick closest to the flame.

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    It did occur to him that perhaps he’d gone to the wrong Academy – the guys in the Space Fleet always had more interesting stories to tell at the spaceport bars. You know, tales about the dude who got vaporized in a plasma accident in the engineering section, or the fella who got turned into a blob of weird space jelly by some alien virus – or the time someone flew a starship into an astor-field at warp four by mistake (they were still trying to find the black box on that one). The Imperial Space Fleet’s recruiting office sure didn’t go around advertising ‘Join up, see the universe, meet interesting aliens and die screaming’, but it was known there were risks involved. It was part of the job after all, and yet somehow, they still got recruits signing up in droves. Yes, indeedy – the stories were far more interesting than his – took a load of ore to Gorda, took a load of mining equipment back to Tordrazil. Took a load of Florpavian Flame-birds to a zoo on Deanna, took a load of machinery to Salus. Picked up and dropped off a few passengers on the way. Still, Florpavian Flame-birds were a risky cargo… and damned tricky to transport – which is probably the only reason he’d had any entertainment at all on the last trip.

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    I took a glass retort, capable of containing eight ounces of water, and distilled fuming spirit of nitre according to the usual method. In the beginning the acid passed over red, then it became colourless, and lastly again all red: no sooner did this happen, then I took away the receiver; and tied to the mouth of the retort a bladder emptied of air, which I had moistened in its inside with milk of lime lac calcis, (i.e. lime-water, containing more quicklime than water can dissolve) to prevent its being corroded by the acid. Then I continued the distillation, and the bladder gradually expanded. Here-upon I left every thing to cool, tied up the bladder, and took it off from the mouth of the retort.— I filled a ten-ounce glass with this air and put a small burning candle into it; when immediately the candle burnt with a large flame, of so vivid a light that it dazzled the eyes. I mixed one part of this air with three parts of air, wherein fire would not burn; and this mixture afforded air, in every respect familiar to the common sort. Since this air is absolutely necessary for the generation of fire, and makes about one-third of our common air, I shall henceforth, for shortness sake call it empyreal air, [literally fire-air] the air which is unserviceable for the fiery phenomenon, and which makes abut two-thirds of common air, I shall for the future call foul air [literally corrupted air].

  • By Anonym

    I've written you sixty-seven love poems. Here’s another one for you. But really, for me. These poems are the candles that I light with the fire you have ignited in me. I place this candle here and another there so even if the stars have argued with the moon and are sulking away in a corner, you can still find your way to me. Sixty-eight poems now. What does the future hold for us? Joy? Disappointment? Gentle caresses? And subtle neglect? I hope the good is more than the bad. Much more. For what is the point of love if by lighting these candles our own flame loses its brightness? I know the good is more than the bad. Much more. I cannot wait to write you sixty-nine.

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    I was a candle that had never known a flame, and now that the flame was lit, I softened and glowed in a way I had not known was possible.

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    I was so sleep deprived that I could barely see straight as we walked into the soundless dark. I tried to get the boy to speak to me but he just continued walking forward without muttering a word.

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    Love, be mystical as the flickering blue flame of night as the fully-awoken moon beneath cobwebs of passing clouds amidst chanting high-tides fuzzy, as my blanket big enough to illuminate a hundred thousand billion galaxies and just small enough to fit into my embrace.

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    Love is like a match to a wick. It takes that right combination to strike a flame. But once the flame is there, it can either give warmth, die out or burn your world to ashes. Even kill you. It’s how you sustain the flame, feed it, and moderate the amount of energy in balance.

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    Love is the opposite of fear and it lights the flames of a million hearts.

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    Love, they said, burns you and builds you. But with you, there’s no ash. Just light.

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    Mountain may want to be with the stream To climb the hills perhaps a river's dream What we want exactly we may never know Flame of fire might love to melt with the snow

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    No matter the joy in heaven, its coldness will make you bask beside the flames of hell.

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    On this material plane, each living being is like a street lantern lamp with a dirty lampshade. The inside flame burns evenly and is of the same quality as all the rest—hence all of us are equal in the absolute sense, the essence, in the quality of our energy. However, some of the lamps are “turned down” and having less light in them, burn fainter, (the beings have a less defined individuality, are less in tune with the universal All which is the same as the Will)—hence all of us are unequal in a relative sense, some of us being more aware (human beings), and others being less aware (animal beings), with small wills and small flames. The lampshades of all are stained with the clutter of the material reality or the physical world. As a result, it is difficult for the light of each lamp to shine through to the outside and it is also difficult to see what is on the other side of the lampshade that represents the external world (a great thick muddy ocean of fog), and hence to “feel” a connection with the other lantern lamps (other beings). The lampshade is the physical body immersed in the ocean of the material world, and the limiting host of senses that it comes with. The dirt of the lampshade results from the cluttering bulk of life experience accumulated without a specific goal or purpose. The dirtier the lampshade, the less connection each soul has to the rest of the universe—and this includes its sense of connection to other beings, its sense of dual presence in the material world and the metaphysical world, and the thin connection line to the wick of fuel or the flow of electricity that resides beyond the material plane and is the universal energy. To remain “lit” each lantern lamp must tap into the universal Source of energy. If the link is weak, depression and-or illness sets in. If the link is strong, life persists. This metaphor to me best illustrates the universe.

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    Passion is a blazing flame.