Quotes About Soot

Our hearts flew up to heaven,, and all the soot and flying dust of burning cane vanished in the smoke fires of hell while ours ascended skywards, washed in the blood of the lamb.

We do not dislike everything that shines, but we do prefer a pensive lustre to a shallow brilliance, a murky light that, whether in a stone or an artifact, bespeaks a sheen of antiquity. . . . we do love things that bear the marks of grime, soot, and weather, and we love the colours and the sheen that call to mind the past that made them.

You're late,' she announced. Her eyes gleamed. 'Sorry, Sunshine,' Leo said. 'Traffic was murder.' 'You are covered with soot,' she noted. 'And you managed to ruin the clothes I made for you, which were impossible to ruin.' 'Well, you know.' Leo shrugged. Somebody had released a hundred pachinko balls in his chest. 'I'm all about doing the impossible.

You don't want flame to hit your food. Flame is bad. Flame does nasty things to food. It makes soot and it makes deposits of various chemicals that are not too good for us. The last thing you really want to see licking at your food while it's on a grill is an actual flame.

During the first firing a dozen or so numbers from the dock neglected to get out of the way - nothing remained of them except some crumbs and soot.

Feelings are just a fire in a field of stubble: it burns for a moment, and then all that's left is soot and ashes. Do you know what the main thing is—the thing a woman should look for in her man? She should look for a quality that's not at all exciting but that's rarer than gold: decency.

It had survived a fire that burned most of the city when Fleurette was a little girl, and traces of black soot were still lodged in the crevices of its scrollwork, giving it the appearance of a building that had been drawn in artist's charcoal.

One woman, Margaret Gwyer, a young newlywed from Saskatoon, Canada, was sucked into one of the ship's 24-foot-wide funnels. Moments later an eruption of steam from below shot her back out, alive but covered in black soot.

Your blunt sincerity astonishes me more and more. I might have expected anything, but not such a request. Don't you think that instead of asking me, you ought rather to leap out and blast me with a ball lightning? You'd be rid of the obstacle and there'd just be a little soot to scrape off the wall. An easier–and more reliable–method. Because, you see, a request can be declined, but ball lightning can't be.

For any unfamiliar with the concept of nuclear winter, basically this is when so much smoke and soot are released into the atmosphere as a result of multiple nuclear blasts, that the sun is blotted out for extended periods of time, leading to catastrophic cooling.

It was amazing how many colors there were, all running into the gutter in a stream: a dozen shades of blue, twenty different reds, and all that black soot, like a nightmare given form, the insides of a heart, destroyed so easily, done away with before anyone could stop the damage, or salvage what was lost, or even try to save him.

She liked soot, and heat, and grime, and she was beginning to realize, if she didn't actually like her aloneness, she was at least comforted by it. She should be grateful; she knew, she knew. She should be thrilled just to be alive. So why was it she preferred to expect nothing?

This snowy-haired dreamer plucked out of the soot.

The birds were a blurred patch on silver-blue sky—distant flecks of soot floating above him.

I suppose you could call me...Soot, said the thing. Yes...Soot. I have breathed it, lived in it, and eaten it for so long that it is a fitting name. Eaten it? asked Suzy. Why eat soot? Boredom, said Soot.

There was soot and orphans everywhere, and gaslit cobbled streets full of fog and sinister gentlemen out for a night of illicit murder. It was a strict and unforgiving society; looking at a piano, eating too much butter, dancing with elan--the sour-faced Queen Victoria forbade all these things. And, it was also raining in the London of themdays--dirty grey slabs of rain that left everywhere shining and slippery.

His successor was a tall, lanky youth, who with his pallid complexion and huge red hands had the air of a simpleton. He was punctual at least, arriving at six o'clock on the dot, but his uncleanliness was revolting: he was dressed in kitchen rags stiff with grease and dirt, his cheeks were smeared with flour and soot, and from his unwiped nose two rivulets of green snot streamed around his mouth.

Its tall chimneys throw up black smoke, impregnating everything with soot, and the miners' faces as they traveled the streets were also imbued with that ancient melancholy of smoke, unifying everything with its grayish monotones, a perfect coupling with the gray mountain days.

The wife of camp commandant Rudolf Höss cautioned her children always to wash the strawberries they grew in the garden of their villa; the fruit was covered in a grey soot from the crematoria next door.

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap And seeing that it was a soft October night Curled once about the house, and fell asleep

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,  The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes,  Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,  Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,  Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,  Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,  And seeing that it was a soft October night,  Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

You choose tools for a task by their crafting, not their look," a crow said crisply from a nearby tree. He flapped over to land on a barrel in front of the cottage. "A smith's finest hammer will be streaked with soot.

There was the sound of his feet on the pavement, and smell of roasting nuts, and the vague heft of soot in the air, all combining to make something that was uniquely London.

I screamed. You told me not to." He rubs at the soot on one hand with his thumb, then stares at it. "The dirt," he says, his voice strangely peaceful. "What about it?" she asks. "It's dirty.