Quotes About Dust

The full cosmos consists of the physical stuff and consciousness. Take away consciousness and it's only dust; add consciousness and you get things, ideas, and time.

Wind swept dark tatters across a sky rippling with luminous cloud from horizon to horizon like a well-muscled torso, bringing with it the smell of dust and grass and a sweetness she could not identify.

yo who is mad dusty ya we all noe who is the person who hatrzzz there the dustyz

I think these movements and become them, here, In this room's stillness, none of them about, And relish them all-until I think of where Thrashed by a crook, the cursive adder writes Quick V's and Q's in the dust and rubs them out. from "Movements

Look here, before you and around you! There is not a grain of sand that has not been bathed in blood, and what is that grain of sand itself, if not the dust of death? But how rich this blood is, and how fertile is the dust!

We write dust epitaphs for our vanquished enemies and watch them blow away in the desert wind.

The air was heavy with the smell of leather and dust, of old parchment and binding glue. It smelled of secrets.

I closed my mouth and looked across the water. Inches away, Denna did the same. I could feel the heat of her. She smelled like road dust, and honey, and the smell the air holds seconds before a heavy summer rain.

She smelled faintly of wildflowers. But beneath that she smelled like autumn leaves. Like the dark smell of her own hair, like road dust and the air before a summer storm.

They smelled of road dust and horses. He breathed it in like perfume. Best of all was the noise. Leather creaking. Men laughing. The fire cracked and spat. The women flirted. Someone even knocked over a chair. For the first time in a long while there was no silence in the Waystone Inn. Or if there was, it was too faint to be noticed, or too well hidden. Kote

A thin layer of dust covered everything, and I doubted anyone had been in the room for decades. I have a vast weakness for secret things.

The classical anthropological question, What is man?—"how like an angel, this quintessence of dust!"—is not now asked by anthropologists. Instead, they commence with a chapter on Physical Anthropology and then forget the whole topic and go on to Culture.

Do you have any idea how mad you sound?' 'Indeed I do. I have in moments of doubt considered the question of my sanity.' (...) 'And?' 'Then I consider what a piece of work is man. How defective in reason, how mean his facilities, how ugly in form and movement, in action how like a devil, in apprehension how like a cow. The beauty of the world? The paragon of animals? To me the quintessence of dust.

Thou art dust and unto dust thou shalt return.

TO MY MIND, PUSHKIN BEST SUMS UP THE SEASON: "Lovely summer, how I could cherish you / If heat and dust and gnats and flies were banished.

The seeds of the Fourth Reich were sewn before the smoke and dust of battle had settled following Victory in Europe, May 8, 1945. They were sewn in the U.S. by "Operation Paperclip" which, no doubt, was well-intentioned on the part of its instigators.

took a deep breath, tasting dust and eucalyptus, and moved past the smeary lights of the veranda. In the small park across the road, smooth clay had been spread like a dusting of confectioners' sugar,

I had never spent so much time by the sea, and hated the way the air thickened with salt and sat on my skin and made me always long for a bath. I was far more comfortable with dust.

would all trickle through my fingers like so much red dust, for as long as childhood lasted it was a heaven fitted

Dust billowed around us, creeping under our loose-tied handkerchiefs and into our noses and mouths. It was fine and silty, red as ochre or the brush-tailed fox,

In the distance, a dust devil churned like a dervish, whirling into a patch of flame trees and unhousing a fat band of vultures.

Ere Babylon was dust,The Magus Zoroaster, my dead child,Met his own image walking in the garden,That apparition, sole of men, he saw.

From the dust of creeds outworn.

When the lamp is shatteredThe light in the dust lies dead—When the cloud is scatteredThe rainbow's glory is shed.