Quotes About Dust

Twenty-two miles west of the Salton Sea, one hundred sixty-two miles east of Los Angeles, yellow dust rooster-tailed behind them as the Escalade raced across the twilight desert. The sound system boomed so they could hear bad music over the eighty-mile-per-hour wind, what with the windows down to blow out the stink. Dennis

Approaching us through a haze of dust that overhung the road was a long column of men - a slovenly column that marched irregularly and out of step, so that it had the look of a gigantic centipede whose feet hurt.

Oh my God! I shouted, smacking at myself to get it off. The chanting abruptly stopped as I danced about the interior of the circle, beating the chunky dust off me. It only made things worse, and I began coughing on someone's dead grandmother. My eyes watered, and I finally gave up, glaring at them from around my hair, now all over the place. Damn it, I was covered in strawberries and human remains.

Holy dust," I murmured, looking for it among the clutter. Jenks's wings hummed and he dropped to hover over the envelope that I'd gathered from the slats under my bed, the only place the pixies didn't clean. It was on sanctified ground, so I figured it was holy enough. And God knew my bed hadn't seen any action lately.

Pixy dust thickened to make my eyes water, but after the loud complaints and muttered disappointment, the Disney nightmare subsided as quickly as it had come.

Human life lay foul before men's eyes, crushed to the dust beneath religion's weight.

Dust everywhere... and out of that emerged this beautiful boy with the bluest eyes I'd ever seen, holding his hand out to help me to my feet.

When the cobwebs and dust pile up, all the musty thoughts and forgotten emotions get caught in their webs and attract spirits and all sorts of chaotic energy.

day, us. That the Bible's been saying so all along, clay being what Genesis meant by the "dust of the ground" that formed man, is obvious. What is not so obvious is how often we have been saying it to one another, and without knowing it.

before the distinctive sound broke the silence of the blistering Texas afternoon. Turning away from the hundred-year-old stagecoach house, she shielded her eyes against the glare of the June sun. The black pickup sped ominously toward her, dust billowing behind it like a villainous cloak—not at all helping the picture of doom her mind had already conjured up.

Motes of dust dancing in the light - that's our dance too. We don't listen inside to hear the music - No matter. The dance goes on, and in the joy of the sun is hiding a god. - Rumi

Motes of dust dancing in the light - that's our dance too. We don't listen inside to hear the music - No matter. The dance goes on, and in the joy of the sun is hiding a god.

All dust is the same dust. Temporarily separated to go peacefully and enjoy the eternal nap.

August in East Tennessee is a sweaty panting mutt, breathing down a dust-caked neck that has been baked by the southern sun.

Knowledge was like a mouthful of dust.

Knowledge is much like dust - it sticks to one, one does not know how.

On her head perched a pillbox hat with an absurd little veil. She'd pulled the dotted veil up out of her eyes, but not completely - it hung lopsidedly, dangling over her right brow. Her dark brown dress was filmed with dust she'd raised, and dust caught on her damp cheeks. One lock of hair had escaped her coiffure, a red snake dancing down her bodice. She was delightfully mussed, and dear God, he wanted her.

There was ancient dust in the folds of the bed curtains and on the speckled, gilt picture frames on the walls, and enough dirt in the rug bedside the bed to sprout seed.

I'll supervise, shall I?" offered Cogsworth. "To me, 'dust' is a four-letter word." "'Dust' is a four-letter word to everyone ," said Lumiere. "'Work' is also a four-letter word," said Plumette, under her breath. "Perhaps that is why monsieur strives to avoid it

An ancient mustiness padded the air, tinged with with an acrid scent-a trace of the war between paper and oxygen, played out in slow inexorable burn that would one day crumble this empire to dust." -page 62

The attic smelled like dust and mice. Piper was sure she could hear faint scuttling sounds off in the shadows, feel beady eyes upon her. She hoped it was only mice and not something larger, something more dangerous. Was it more than rustling? Was that faint breathing she heard coming from the darkest corner, the place where no light touched?

He ate and drank the precious words, His spirit grew robust; He knew no more that he was poor, Nor that his frame was dust. He danced along the dingy days, And this bequest of wings Was but a book. What liberty A loosened spirit brings!

This quiet Dust was Gentlemen and Ladies, And Lads and Girls; Was laughter and ability and sighing, And frocks and curls. This passive place a Summer's nimble mansion, Where Bloom and Bees Fulfilled their Oriental Circuit, Then ceased like these.

We all have moments with the dust, but the dew is given.