Quotes About Specks

Your turn has come to sift through the dreck of humanity for rare specks of originality

In the morning we sometimes notice the scattered specks and flakes gathering together, growing and spreading into the magnificent cumulus, stacked up in gigantic heaps, till the afternoon sun glorifies a range of sky-mountains, beside whose stupendous heights earth's loftiest range is dwarfed, and whose summits are white as no fuller on earth can white them.

We seem to be tiny specks in the vast ocean of our DNA pool when it is all mapped out, and it is that – the literal relativity of it all – which takes their breath away.

The garden was burning, the air sparked with specks of flame as they say it will be in the World-to-Come when we walk beside the angels and have no fear of their illuminations or of their might.

Skin was earth; it was soil. I could see, even on my own skin, the joined trapezoids of dust specks God had wetted and stuck with his spit the morning he made Adam from dirt. Now, all these generations later, we people could still see on our skin the inherited prints of the dust specks of Eden.

Skin was earth; it was soil. I could see, even on my own skin, the joined trapezoids of dust specks God had wetted and stuck with his spit in the morning he made Adam from dirt. Now, all these generations later, we people could still see on our skin the inherited prints of the dust specks of Eden.

We were nothing to them. I think now of the great value we put on what we were and I wonder what does it mean when another people judge you to be worth so little you were only to be killed? How our pride in everything was crushed so small it disappeared until it was just specks of things floating away on the wind.

Truth is a golden thread, seen here and there In small bright specks upon the visible side Of our strange being's party-coloured web.

With relief, I'd waved goodbye to my guardian-pursuers on the coast of Lansaal and headed north, visualising them as diminishing specks on the shore, impotently ranting at my defection. See, it is a joke. I am not afraid of them.

The darkness was full of dancing specks of light, which I could see even when I closed my eyes.

Slang, too, is the wholesome fermentation or eructation of those processes eternally active in language, by which froth and specks are thrown up, mostly to pass away; though occasionally to settle and permanently chrystallize.

How much dust can a body make? Little specks of death. Measuring life in millimeters.