Quotes About Candles

I thank the dark Virgin, morena like me... There are many who will tell you that the dark-skinned girls, las morenitas, have got no chance. But when Iwas a girl, I noted the Virgen de Guadalupe, her with the important job of taking care of all the pueblitos, and standing in every home with candles and all the respect, and her own day of Guadalupe with people crawling across zócalo and up the cathedral steps on raw knees and singing themselves ronca all night long

Sometimes the best lighting of all is a power failure.

Night's candles have burned out, and jocund day stands tiptoe on the misty mountaintops." Hope tinged with melancholy - like life.

She touched his hand, and he went stock-still. She leaned over to examine it, the top of her head brushing beneath his nose. Only his sudden immobility stopped him from violently pulling away. "From the candles?" Had she bathed in bloody honey?

se adormiló suavemente con la languidez mística que brota de los aromas del altar, del frescor de las pilas de agua benita y del resplandor de las velas

You know what I think? I think that if a young woman doesn't engage in the act of occasionally wishing on a star or a flower or a birthday cake full of candles, then we're forfeiting one of the sweetest whimsies of our youth.

Someone lit the candles on the cake

En la pequeña noche de la vida humana, la loca de la casa enciende velas.

Some realities drive us to our knees and since I was there already before my altar I unwrapped and lit the beeswax candles I acquired for you.

I didn't say it wasn't," Liam said. "I just don't want it in the room." Pulling her into his arms, Liam gave her a very tender kiss. "Good thinking!" Annie finally said as Liam blew out the candles.

Colorful candles burning bright, each lit on eight very special nights.

My great-grandfather was a coal miner, who worked in Pennsylvania mines when carts were pulled by mules and mines were lit by candles. Mining was very dangerous work then.

The putting on of vestments and lighting candles, it's a wonderful ritual that never changes from one Mass to another.

I learnt how to make candles when I was a kid. My mom used to make them. Then, when I broke my leg once and couldn't really move around, I started playing around with it... putting the scent inside and dried flowers, and that's it.

Then I wanted to take a bath so I ran water into the big sunken tub and poured in some bath salts and lit the candles in the square glass holders around the rim of the tub. There were big windows overlooking the garden. I opened them and smelled the jasmine and the wet earth. There was a little warm breeze and the garden tinkled and chimed like stars falling. I called you. I wanted a refill on my wine. I wanted to give you the jasmine and the wind chime stars. I'm sorry.

You look like a monkey, and you smell like one too!" Nine-year-old Frank Hardy looked at his brother, Joe, and laughed as their friend Paul McMahon blew out the candles on his huge birthday cake, which was decorated to look like a dinosaur. Everyone cheered as Paul blew out all ten candles on the first try.

One of my life's watchwords is 'hyggelig.' It's an untranslatable Danish term for getting together with friends and family and sitting around in a cosy atmosphere with nice food and wine and candles.

For my birthday, my old man showed me a picture of a cake. I sat there all day trying to blow out the candles.

Growing up, there had always been candles burning, not for the light they gave, but for remembrance. Her grandmother used to say the flame honored a person's spirit, reminded the living that the dead were never really gone.

The unlit chandelier loomed over us, a dim glass jellyfish in the dark reaches of the ceiling. Candles sputtered on the table.

We are candles, I remember thinking, and the wind is rising.

There is nothing that makes me happier than sitting around the dinner table and talking until the candles are burned down.

Golden shadows shimmered and the musky scent of the candles dizzied every breath. They were on the bed now, an enormous bed with sheets of glowing satin. Clasped in an embrace they rolled together, drinking deep kisses from gasping mouths, hands stroking, teasing, chasing, bodies pressing against each other as if seeking to melt and become one with the other.

Stories live in your blood and bones, follow the seasons and light candles on the darkest night-every storyteller knows she or he is also a teacher.