Quotes About Dust

Washington is not a place to live in. The rents are high, the food is bad, the dust is disgusting and the morals are deplorable. Go West, young man, go West and grow up with the country.

How shall we praise the magnificence of the dead, The great man humbled, the haughty brought to dust?

My mother, Abra, had taught me that all people are made from the same dust. When our days here are gone, all men and women enter the same garden.

But when the dust has drunk the blood of men, no resurrection comes for one who's dead.

All the windy ways of men Are but dust that rises up, And is lightly laid again.

He (man) is both dust of earth and breath of God.

Dead man, dead man When will you arise? Cobwebs in your mind Dust upon your eyes

Some men a forward motion love, But I by backward steps would move, And when this dust falls to the urn In that state I came, return.

I believe our future depends powerfully on how well we understand this cosmos in which we float, like a mote of dust in the morning sky.

At about 10 o'clock in the morning the sun threw a bright dust-laden bar through one of the side windows and in and out of the beam flies shot like rushing stars.

Nature is imperfectly perfect, filled with loose parts and possibilities, with mud and dust, nettles and sky, transcendent hands-on moments and skinned knees.

As man sows, so shall he reap. In works of fiction, such men are sometimes converted. More often, in real life, they do not change their natures until they are converted into dust.

Man is a phase of nature, and only as he is related to nature does he matter, does he have any account whatever above the dust.

Dust on gold doesn't change the nature of gold.

What is man? Hope turned to dust. No. What is man? Dust turned to hope.

Philosophy consists mostly of kicking up a lot of dust and then complaining that you can't see anything.

The dust will not settle in our time. And when it does some great roaring machine will come and whirl it all skyhigh again.

Mrs. Wiggs was a philosopher, and the sum and substance of her philosophy lay in keeping the dust off her rose-colored spectacles.

Curiosity is the fire of desires that burns the dust to reveal the diamond.

Poetry is any page from a sketchbook of outlines of a doorknob with thumb-prints of dust, blood, dreams.

The poet, distracted by politics, asks of poetry that it make itself useful like metal or flour, that it get ready to stain its face with coal dust and fight body to body.

Mourning is not forgetting. ... It is an undoing. Every minute tie has to be untied and something permanent and valuable recovered and assimilated from the dust.

An idea can turn to dust or magic, depending on the talent that rubs against it.

Everything exists, everything is true and the earth is just a bit of dust beneath our feet.