Quotes About Campfire

Gracie wished she'd unpacked her heavier jacket because when the sun doused behind the mountains the temperature dropped a quick twenty degrees or more within minutes, as if the thin mountain air was incapable of retaining the afternoon heat. She thought about going back to her tent to dig out her hoodie, but the instant darkness didn't encourage a trip and the warmth and light of the campfire held her in place as if it had strong gravitational pull.

She lay brooding in the dark for hours. Occasionally, she could hear a whoop or laugh from the direction of the campfire. Danielle's breathing got deeper and she slept the sleep of the dead and Gracie wished she'd gotten that snake from Dakota. She'd never hated her father before.

Outside the tent, it was cold, still, clear, and breathtakingly beautiful. Bright white sun danced on the ripples of Yellowstone Lake and electrified the dew in the grass. A bald eagle cruised along the surface of the water, talons dropped, fishing. Far across the water was the smudge of an island in the lake. Boils of steam rose from vents and dissipated in the clear morning air. She smelled woodsmoke from the fire and heard subdued voices from the kitchen camp.

Are you going to tell me what that was about?" Adam asked as we went back upstairs. "Sometime," I told him. "When we're telling ghost stories around a campfire, and I want to scare you.

I try to give the music more of a campfire feel as opposed to a library atmosphere. I like when you can hear people hanging out in the songs and doing a little shuffling. It creates a feeling of participation.

Having a campfire and roasted marshmallows, to me that sounds like Heaven.

Well, religion has been passed down through the years by stories people tell around the campfire. Stories about God, stories about love. Stories about good spirits and evil spirits.

I've said before: 'If you're going to earnestly sing a song around a campfire, you'd better be a Muppet!' Or else we're just not going to buy it.

A craftsman who turned hunter to aid his people is always welcome at a warrior's campfire. Craftsmen are meticulous and methodical.

A craftsman who turned hunter to aid his people is always welcome at a warrior's campfire. Craftsmen are meticulous and methodical. It is an honor to meet one such as you.

I think of myself in the oral tradition-as a troubadour, a village tale-teller, the man in the shadows of the campfire. That's the way I'd like to be remembered- as a storyteller. A good storyteller.

here's no place like your own home on the range, but a good compadre's campfire is a close second. A pard doesn't mind if you think out loud. FMI our friends are the measure

You got suggestions for me, Cutter?" "The first might be taking the chip from your shoulder and the stick from your ass, then we can build a campfire with them and have a couple of beers." "Add yours and we could have a hell of a blaze.

Everything good in there, T? Niko quipped. You need backup or anything? Bag of marshmallows to roast over that little campfire you just started?

By the blasé flatness of Tegan's expression as he approached, he might as well have just come back from taking a piss. "Everything good in there, T?" Niko quipped. "You need back up or anything? Bag of marshmallows to roast over that little campfire you just started?" "It's handled." "No shit

Only in the campfire-stoked stories of Boy Scouts, bedtime tales baby-sitters employ to frighten bratty charges, or in the sweet delight of grandpas who never grew up, would the stories live on.

I'm a primate, you know? I need to be pro-social, like all of us; I need to be pro-social and affiliative. I need to sit at the campfire with other women.

My first guitar was like a campfire guitar. And it was left at a house that my family had moved into... and the guitar was at the house. It was all strung up. It's normally something that would be beyond a bit of rubbish.

I find campfire stories and urban legends are kind of the bread and butter that inspires a lot of people who are making horror and thriller. There is a nugget of truth behind these sort of cautionary tales.

I think we get too hung up on categories. Obviously, the book market has to categorise things, and it makes it easier for a reader to go into a bookshop and choose, but as a writer, it helps to get rid of all of that and imagine you are a storyteller around a campfire.

The thing I love about theater is the fact that everyone's complicit. We're either there as a storyteller, or we're there as a listener, and it's basically a campfire situation.

Bright, dreadful flashes of lightning rent the darkness and Kali's reply was drowned by a peal of thunder which shook heaven and the wilderness. Simultaneously a whirlwind broke out, tugged the boughs of the tree swept away in the twinkling of an eye the camp-fire, seized the embers, still burning under the ashes, and carried them with sheaves of sparks into the jungle.

In the heat of her hands I thought, This is the campfire that mocks the sun.

when your down on your luck and you've lost all your dreams theres nothing like a campfire and a can of beans