Quotes About Dust

None to witness. Dust of dreams, dust of all that we never achieved. Dust of what we might have been and what we cannot help but be.

She was thinking about how a mind could turn to stone, the patterns solid and immovable in the face of seemingly unbearable pressures, and the way dust trickled down faint as whispers, unnoticed by any.

A CORKSCREW PLUME of dust raced across the basin, heading deeper into the trackless desert of the Pan'potsun Odhan.

Mortality was the realm of deceit; the sordid room of horror hid in the house of the living, its walls crusted and streaked, dark stains on the warped floor. Dust crowded the corners, dust made of skin flakes and snarls of hair, nail clippings and clots of phlegm. Every house had its secret room, where memories howled in the thick silence.

The land he crossed was cracked and withered, much like his skin. The wind blew hard along the gullies, whipping up sand and scrub. There were no miracles in this place, least of all miracles of life. Dust and bones, sand and souls; that was the way of it. How

The sobbing echoes of the woman's song streamed away down the twisting alleys and the last particles of dust fell back on the street.

I have a purpose, thought Ays. I am a purpose. And the winds sang their mournful tunes through the sand-scoured pipes and sails, conjuring a salt-sweat memory that surely must be false. A woman's song; a melody. The feel of sand and dry air. A sense of tombs, of ancient dust.

Comets are the icy heralds from a bygone epoch. When the Solar System was forming these icy leftovers brought water to the inner planets. Now they are merely ghostly messengers who write their stories in dust; each statement costs the comet dearly.

The journey of love to lust brings sky to dust.

In the room full of individuals for whom I hold feelings of resentment about, Who might be the first I would converse with, when I am about to bite the dust?

Angel dust blown a sunder, Nestling on the edge of unchartered dreams, Filtering the dileneation between ones desires & needs.

When someone beats a rug, the blows are not against the rug, but against the dust in it.

The mountain trembled like an earthquake. Dust flew into the sky. And the rock turned dark red, like the color of blood'. 'How would you know?' Asks Sindhi cap. 'You only have a black and white television'. 'But it's a very good one. You can almost see colours.

Hoarse voice, from intimacy's border with asthma: parched beaches, dust whipped by the wind. Very sexy but not much to drink.

If I take dust in my hand and ask you if that is all the dust there is, you will answer that dust is everywhere on earth. More specks than can ever be numbered. So I can give you a handful of truth only. Besides this there are other truths. More than can ever be numbered.

I don't quite know why, but I felt somehow that Linda had been once more deceived in her emotions, that this explorer in the sandy waste had seen only another mirage. The lake was there, the trees were there, the thirsty camels had gone down to have their evening drink; alas, a few steps forward would reveal nothing but dust and desert as before.

I wanted to rub handprints through his dust

Ideas are intangible forces, but they have more power than the physical brains that give birth to them. They have the power to live on, after the brain that creates them has returned to dust.

Dust of the feet And dust of the wheels, Wagons and people going, All day feet and wheels. Now... ...Only stars and mist

Me crié entre libros, haciendo amigos invisibles en páginas que se deshacían en polvo y cuyo olor aún conservo en las manos

My favourite place in the whole city was the Sempere & Sons bookshop on Calle Santa Anna. It smelled of old paper and dust and it was my sanctuary, my refuge.

Dust flew behind me, and I crouched over the handlebars, sucking air through my mask, blinking behind my goggles.

His entired life bundled into wenty refuse sacks. His and her memories bundle away in Holly's mind. Each item unearthed dust, tears, laughter and memories. She bagged the items, cleared the dust, wiped her eyes and filed away the memories.

Oh, mother, really you need not dust them. It would take years to dust all those little holes." And she frowned at the top of her mother's head and bit her lip with impatience. Mother's deliberate way of doing things was simply maddening. It was old age, she supposed, loftily.