Quotes About Ash

you, my friend, could be the smoke's daughter, you who may not have known you were born of fire and rage, lightning over flaming lava etched your violet mouth, your sex in the scorched oak's moss like a ring in a nest, your fingers there in the flames, your compact body rose from leaves of fire that make me recall there were bakers in your family tree, you're still the rainforest's bread, ash from violent wheat

Ash and Conner are silent. Our three locals have their phones out and seem to be catching up on the news." "How is the news?" "They strike me as gravely concerned, but not speechless with horror.

Death is a flock of blackbirds low over muddy streets in war-torn Sarajevo. Dirt-stained walls yearn for all that is night. Elegies fall like raw silk. If there is a way it is here. Salt and ash.

The heart was a bicameral thing, both stoical and skittish. Who was to say that it mightn't endure the years of separation and the abrupt reversals of fate, only to be repulsed by a misaligned vase, by a lipsticked tooth, by a hundredth of an ounce of ash?

Time piles up like brush. You burn it in the fall and all you remember are the glowing cinders. I got ash heaps everywhere I look. -Old of the Moon

it was the rotten fabric woven by evil, the overnight sham bulwarks of enemies of the people; it would burn to ash at the match of truth.

pues no todo en el fuego es claridad, sino también leña bruta, y ceniza, y humo...

As the last Seelie left the hall, Roiben, self-declared King of the Unseelie Court, nearly fell into his throne. Kaye tried to smile at him, but he was not looking at her. He was staring out across the brugh with eyes the color of falling ash. Corny had not stopped laughing.

and you want us to love one another you can shape me from my ashes from the debris of my guffawing from my leftover tedium you can gorgeous you can seize me by the hair of forgetting embrace my night in an empty shirt kiss my echo well you dont know how to love

I rolled in the ash of the fire just to be touched and dirtied by something.

If what remained of the night had a scent, it'd be heavy ash and cheap perfume. If it had weight, it'd be a hangover. If it had emotion, it'd be regret.

don't they realize i have a tinder heart and a paper body and that any spark will turn me straight to ash?

Every man, who has fought in a battle, is now ash, every sword has been eaten by rust, but the lessons still must be learned

Well, you asked me," said Ash. "I mean—well—you asked me, didn't you? I wouldn't have read them but there wasn't anything else to read—it was in hospital, you see." "Most people like my books," said Miss Walters faintly. "Most people are saps," said Ash.

Let the pages burn, for such be the fate of the soul, that all our striving be dust, and none in the bright living world ever know truly what once lived and died in another heart. And let me dispense with my foolish dream of leaving the tracery of my thought whole, perhaps to be read in an age in which there is greater kindness. It is not such an age. Let the truth be ash.

Most often, a haloed moon means nothing more than that reflective volcanic ash has made its way into the stratosphere, and a two-headed goat is only a genetic curiosity. The mommy-porn genre currently sweeping the book industry and the Babylonian excess of most television shows probably fall within the historical norm in our culture's sleaze index and are not omens of the imminent collapse of civilization, though if I were not so busy, I might start building an ark.

I will write. And then I'll make a fire. O, how these lines will soar up, The pages fall back to ash Under the savage slap Of a long-lapsed emptiness! With what an arrogant gesture I will be outstripped by the flame! And the foam of ashes will quiver But nothing will be born from them.

passions, poetry and the ego have been seen as perpetual explosions? But if that's true, then so its its opposite; ever since that August when athe mushroom rose over cities reduced to a layer of ash, an age was born in which the explosion is symbolic only of absolute negation.

Unlike the visible and heavily regulated airborne emissions from power plant smokestacks, coal ash is largely unseen unless there is a major spill and, until recently, far less effectively regulated.

let me tell you what happens when you cook down the syrup of loss over the open fire of sorrow: it solidfies into something wlaw. not grief, like you'd expect, or even regret. no, it gets thick as paste, black as ash; yet it isn't until you dip a finger in and feel that sharp taste dissolving on your tounge that you realize this is angel in its purest form, unrefined; a substance to be weighed and measyred and spread.

Let me tell you what happens when you cook down the syrup of loss over the open fire of sorrow: It solidifies into something else. Not grief, like you'd expect, or even regret. No, it gets thick as paste, black as ash; yet it isn't until you dip a finger in and feel that sharp taste dissolving on your tongue that you realize this is anger in its purest form, unrefined; a substance to be weighed and measured and spread.

And the dreams so rich in color. How else would death call you? Waking in the cold dawn it all turned to ash instantly.

I thought of all the places I'd been and all the places I hadn't, a world lost and vast and unknowable, dingy maze of cities and alleyways, far-drifting ash and hostile immensities, connections missed, things lost and never found.

But now I knew there were so many ways to get hung from a cross—a mother's love for you morphing into something incomprehensible. A dress ghosted in another generation's dreams. A history of fire and ash and loss. Legacy.