Best 117 quotes in «burn quotes» category

Ashes have no fear to burn in hell In your heart's paradise angels dwell Rib cage fastens all sins of the wrong Your bones will sing you mortality’s song

Adult life is a series of compromises, Adrien.' 'Yeah, only you're negotiating with the Devil.' Still not looking at me, he growled, 'Oh, go to hell.' I raised my water in a toast. 'Sure. I'll follow the trail of bread crumbs you're scattering.

and everything burned in blue, everything a star

Adrian rolled his eyes. "I'm kind of surprised to find you lecturing about underage girls.

A man of God would never burn or harm a temple of any kind - regardless of religion. A true man of God would see every temple or divine mansion built to glorify the Creator - as an extension of the temple closest to his home, regardless of its shape, size, or color. A man who truly recognizes and knows God can see God in all things.

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

A person will walk into fire, knowing full well she'll get burned, but it doesn't hurt as much. When you're prepared for pain, pain loses power.

Burn them all, little dragon.

Because he's three thousand times the human being you'll ever be,' said Alec. 'Now get out of here before I risk his life by waking him up so he can turn you into a garbage fire. Something that would match your personality.' 'Oh!', said Zara. 'So rude!

At least I rescued your poor hot dog.

Being one’s true and honest self can often be dangerous; and poetry should always be a place where, if only between the pages, that danger and energy and fear and excitement and love can fizz and spark without ever threatening to burn something down.

Birthday marks the beginning of a new year, new hopes and new dreams! So, we should never blow out the candle before cutting the cake on such a day. Let the candle burn! Let it spread light everywhere!

Burn me in the warmth of your breath, Dont Let me freeze in this cold hell of numbness

Dear smokers, when you burn one stick you not only burn relationships but also burn your one and only life.

Don't ask me why am I not fine, don't say a word just come and hug me. Even if I don't hug you back at that very moment, don't let me go. Hug me more tightly, let me hear your heart beating for me, let me feel the warmth of you inside your arms when your hand is rubbing my back and your fingers are moving through my hair, burn down all my insecurities with your love.

Ever since my famous battle with Python, I've had a phobia of scaly reptilian creatures. (Especially if you include my stepmother, Hera. BOOM!)

[ELIZA] You and your words flooded my senses, your sentences left me defenseless. You built me palaces out of paragraphs, you built cathedrals.

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

Every touch of you on my skin has burnt and etched your name on my soul. Whenever I close my eyes and try to feel myself, all I can hear is constant echoes of your name in my head, and all I can feel is the constant longing for the darkness.

Every time he said those words it was like a supernova of joy exploding inside me. I just didn’t yet know that supernovas burn so brightly because a catastrophe is taking place. That lesson would come later.

From ashes I came To ashes, I'll return. But tonight I'm content To sit here and burn.

For all these stars, nothing is new. They’ve seen all kinds of wars and miracles, too. They know the messengers with their holy books will smile and wash their hands in blood. They know the politicians with their good looks will make the poor eat pies of mud. They’ve seen the Earth freeze and then burn with greed. They’ve seen the trees and the seas emptied. Yet, you won’t hear their sneers when a man arrives and, having experienced a number of years, proclaims: 'I have lived!' Because nothing is new under these stars: the lies, the love, the memories and scars, the ruin, the revolution, the fakes and true, the families, the friends, none of it is new. All of it—even the me and you.

Fire wants to burn Water wants to flow Air wants to rise Earth wants to bind Chaos wants to devour Cal wants to live

He sat beside the window in the dark, with his eyes closed. Hearing to the sound of the rain. The whisky in his glass burnt his throat, while the smoke of his cigarette filled his lungs and the fire inside his heart consumed his soul slowly.

He never ever thought of giving it up. Not once not ever. He lead a hard life bereft of comforts but he loved his life. His struggles gave a meaning and a purpose to his life. His struggles inflamed the fire burning within his soul. A fire that was burning within him and which would one day either burn him or burn the literary world!

Hunter’s entire body writhed and squirmed. The side of his head was partly gone. A creature, like some monstrous melding of insect and eel, protruded from Hunter’s shoulder and as they stood there rooted in horror it took a vicious bite of Hunter’s flesh. Taylor was suddenly gone. Dekka’s face was grim, her eyes wet. “I tried . . . ,” Hunter said. He held up his hands, mimicked pressing them against his head. “It didn’t work.” “I can do it,” Sam said softly. “I’m scared,” Hunter said. “I know.” “It’s ’cause I killed Harry. God has to punish me. I tried to be good but I’m bad.” “No, Hunter,” Sam said gently. “You paid your dues. You fed the kids. You’re a good guy.” “I’m a good hunter.” “The best.” “I don’t know what’s happening. What’s happening, Sam?” “It’s just the FAYZ, Hunter,” Sam said. “Can the angels find me here so I can go to heaven?” Sam didn’t answer. It was Dekka who spoke. “Do you still remember any prayers, Hunter?” The insectlike creature was almost completely emerged from Hunter’s shoulder. Legs were becoming visible. It had wings folded against its body. It looked like a gigantic ant, or wasp, but silver and brass and covered with a sheen of slime. It was emerging like a chicken breaking out of an egg. Being born. And as the creature was born, it fed on Hunter’s numbed body. Jerky movements beneath Hunter’s shirt testified to more of the larvae emerging. “Do you remember ‘now I lay me down to sleep’?” Dekka asked. “Now I lay me down to sleep,” Hunter said. “I pray the Lord my soul to keep.” Sam raised his hands, palms out. “If I should die—” Twin beams of light hit Hunter’s chest and face. His shirt caught fire. Flesh melted. He was dead before he could feel anything. Sam played the light up and down Hunter’s body. The smell was sickening. Jack wanted to look away, but how could he? Sudden darkness as Sam terminated the light. Sam lowered his hands to his side. They stood there in the darkness. Jack breathed through his mouth, trying not to smell the burned flesh. Then they heard a sound. Many sounds. Sam raised his hands and pale light glowed. Hunter was all but gone. The things that had been inside him were still there.

How to build a fire: stay true to your perspective! Then burn.

I am Cinna's bird, ignited, flying frantically to escape something inescapable. The feathers of flame that grow from my body. Beating my wings only fans the blaze. I consume myself, but to no end. Finally, my wings begin to falter, I lose height, and gravity pulls me into a foamy sea the color of Finnick's eyes. I float on my back, which continues to burn beneath the water, but the agony quiets to pain. When I am adrift and unable to navigate, that's when they come. The dead. The ones I loved fly as birds in the open sky above me. Soaring, weaving, calling to me to join them. I want so badly to follow them, but the seawater saturates my wings, making it impossible to lift them. The ones I hated have taken to the water, horrible scaled things that tear my salty flesh with needle teeth. Biting again and again. Dragging me beneath the surface. The small white bird tinged in pink dives down, buries her claws in my chest, and tries to keep me afloat. "No, Katniss! No! You can't go!" But the ones I hated are winning, and if she clings to me, she'll be lost as well. "Prim, let go!" And finally she does.

I believe in witches, Sophia,” his deep voice hypnotized her. “I hope you don’t burn me at the stake,” she murmured to him. “I don’t burn witches. I set them on fire,” Alistair whispered so low Sophia thought she had heard wrong.

I didn't want to miss out on a chance to congratulate you on your bouncing baby boy.” Garrett’s eyes trailed over to Milo who stood tall with an arrogant smile on his face next to his father. “I’m not sure on the protocol over here, though, is it customary to celebrate bastards?” Garrett’s comment hit the mark just like he knew it would. The smile was wiped from Milo’s face, and he stalked right up to Garrett and threw a punch at his jaw.

If any of this ended in an explosion, I hoped it would be one that made us burn brighter, stronger than ever before.

If the inner [intent] is not spoilt, it means “Our Own Self” did not spoilt. That which has become spoilt on the outside will burn in the funeral pyre; whether it improves or not.

If you go to heaven, better earn it. If you go to hell, better earn it too! Either way, you'd better burn for what you live for and for where you are going. And you better get there knowing you burned for it. What do you feel? What do you want? What do you burn for? This is what makes you human, this is what gives you a soul. This is what earns you heaven or hell.

I glance down at my threadbare t-shirt and baggy flannelette pyjama bottoms.

I meant does it hurt when you hide every last shred of your individuality and self worth behind acres of silk and cups of powder and smiles that never, no matter how hard you try, reach your eyes?

I'm sure you've had many musicians in your soft spot.

I'm too hot to handle; poor bitch needs to be treated for burns!

I think one can tell a lot about a person from the way he chooses to let the stub of his cigarette burn out...

I try to be gentle, but there is nothing gentle about the feelings she evokes in me. She’s pure flame, and like her wild hair, she’s making me burn.

I will always continue to love the way how the fire inside you burnt everyone around it, But took me in its arms and kept me warm.

Looks delicious," he lied. "A mite crispy along the edges - but then, I like it that way." Incredulous eyes met his own. "You like your potatoes burned?" Ah, so he'd been right about that. If he could still recognize what it was she'd cooked, then surely he could eat it.

Not every movement is progress; Some movements are just a way of burning fats!

Not really. It’s called OCD and—” 'Yes, yes, so my psychiatrist tells me.' 'You have a shrink?' 'Apparently, I have some repressed anger and unresolved abandonment issues after my experiences with God.

Sam walked cautiously around Pack Leader to see the other side. There were the insect jaws protruding from the matted fur. Two, maybe three of them. “I came for hunter kill me,” Pack Leader said. Sam knew this was not the original Pack Leader. Lana had killed that Pack Leader. But whether this was the second coyote to hold the title or some other coyote, he didn’t know. This one had slightly better powers of speech than the first. “Hunter’s dead,” Sam said. “You kill.” “Yes.” “Kill me, Bright Hands.” Sam had no sympathy for the coyote. The coyotes had participated in the town plaza massacre. There were bodies buried in the cemetery that had been so badly ripped by coyote teeth that they were unrecognizable. “The flying snakes cause this?” Sam asked, pointing at the awful parasites. “Yes.” “Where are they?” Pack Leader made a purely coyote growl deep in his throat. “No words.” “Then show us,” Sam said. “Take us to them.” “Then you burn me?” “Then I’ll burn you.

Sometimes I just want to paint the words "It's my fault" across my forehead to save people the time of being pissed off at me.

Sometimes, he gets on my nerves; At other times, I burn the ladder.

Sometimes our whole life is all about, not letting the fire that burns our homes down become the light that guides us home.

That is a compliment which gives me no pleasure.

That night my mother had what she considered a wonderful dream. She dreamed of the country of India, where she had never been. There were orange traffic cones and beautiful lapis lazuli insects with mandibles of gold. A young girl was being led through the streets. She was taken to a pyre where she was wound in a sheet and placed up on a platform built from sticks. The bright fire that consumed her brought my mother into that deep, light, dreamlike bliss. The girl was being burned alive, but, first, there had been her body, clean and whole.

I am not a Sunday morning inside four walls with clean blood and organized drawers. I am the hurricane setting fire to the forests at night when no one else is alive or awake however you choose to see it and I live in my own flames sometimes burning too bright and too wild to make things last or handle myself or anyone else and so I run. run run run far and wide until my bones ache and lungs split and it feels good. Hear that people? It feels good because I am the slave and ruler of my own body and I wish to do with it exactly as I please