Quotes About Ashes

Poets, I dare you to choose, for one night, the ambrosia over the ashes.

Something the heart must have to cherish, Must love and joy and sorrow learn; Something with passion clasp, or perish And in itself to ashes burn.

The great military leaders of the past have gone, their empires have crumbled and burned to ashes. But the empire of Jesus, built solidly and majestically on the foundation of love, is still growing.

Some people say love is a losing game, you start with fire and you lose the flame. The ashes smolder, but the warmth's soon gone, you end up cold and lonely on your own.

There was a library and it is ashes. Let its long length assemble. Than its stone walls its paper walls are thicker; armoured with learning, with philosophy, with poetry that drifts or dances clamped though it is in midnight. Shielded with flax and calfskin and a cold weight of ink, there broods the ghost of Sepulchrave, the melancholy Earl, seventy-sixth lord of half-light.

He feeds on ashes. His deceived mind has led him astray, and he cannot deliver himself, or say, "Isn't there a lie in my right hand?" Isaiah 44:20

Back in 2006-07 when we completed the first Ashes whitewash in 86 years, the historical significance didn't really filter in to our thinking. We didn't realise it at the time - we were just making amends for 2005.

You know Americans are obsessed with life and death and rebirth, that's the American Cycle. You know, awakening, tragic, horrible death and then Phoenix rising from the ashes. That's the American story, again and again.

Feelings flake off and fall in dust. The senses, vitrified, can no longer experience pleasure; they crack at the least provocation. Each of us, within, was as if devoured by a conflagration, and our hearts were no more than a pinch of ashes. Our souls were laid waste. For a long time now we had believed in nothing, not even in nothingness.

These boxes held only ashes of answers, and all their presence meant was more mysteries, and a worry that someday something else might explode.

So I walk home like a burning house, like a burning stable, the light of life pouring out of the fire, fire pouring out of the dying wood, hostile sorrow lingering under the ashes

You know Americans are obsessed with life and death and rebirth, that's the American Cycle. You know, awakening, tragic, horrible death and then Phoenix rising from the ashes. That's the American story, again and again.

The rebels were seen as the descendants of the civilization to which the West owed its values—and now they rose from the ashes!

A few flames crackled here and there along the nubs that once were branches. Then they flickered out, too, leaving smoke, a whistle of steam, and a light snowfall of ashes.

She was cremated.

And in an Ashes series the best approach as a player is to not get caught up in feeling pressure for your position but to think only about the greater cause. How can I contribute? It could be a single moment, like a blinding catch or a run out. Think only of the team's needs.

One inch of love is an inch of ashes.

In my beginning is my end. In succession Houses rise and fall, crumble, are extended, Are removed, destroyed, restored, or in their place Is an open field, or a factory, or a by-pass. Old stone to new building, old timber to new fires, Old fires to ashes, and ashes to the earth Which is already flesh, fur and faeces, Bone of man and beast, cornstalk and leaf. from East Coker

Golbuchiks? Golbuchiks are ashes, entrails, dung, stove smoke, clay, and they'll all return to clay. They're full of dirt, candle oil, droppings, dust. You, O Book, my pure, shining precious, my golden singing promise, my dream, a distant call— O tender specter, happy chance, Again I heed the ancient lore, Again with beauty rare in stance, You beckon from the distant shore!

Dust to dust, ashes to ashes. Halleluiah amen, you are dismissed.

Sí, cenizas de la nada, le contesté yo. - Ni cenizas siquiera dijo el hombre. Ya ni los sueños quedan...

We find Tankawosho breaking up a wooden statue of Buddha on a wintry day to make a fire. 'What sacrilege!' said the horror-stricken bystander. 'I wish to get the Shali out of the ashes,' calmly rejoined the Zen. 'But you certainly will not get Shali from this image!' was the angry retort, to which Tanka replied, 'If I do not, this is certainly not a Buddha and I am committing no sacrilege.' Then he turned to warm himself over the kindling fire.

I have sat before the dense coal fire and watched it all aglow, full of its tormented flaming life; and I have seen it wane at last, down, down, to dumbest dust. Old man of oceans! of all this fiery life of thine, what will at length remain but one little heap of ashes!

I tell you the past is a bucket of ashes, so live not in your yesterdays, no just for tomorrow, but in the here and now. Keep moving and forget the post mortems; and remember, no one can get the jump on the future.