Quotes About Fire

She had asked the older women: What is that fire? And they had replied: It is we who are burning.

Prometheus had been foolish to bestow fire on men instead of selling it to them: he would have made money, placated Jove, and avoided all that trouble with the vulture.

Of course he could see only blackness, such was the treachery of fire, which iluminated small circles by darkening the entire world.

He struck his own fire, listened to the night wind roar through the trees. Sometimes, when he could see it, he stared at the Conriyan encampment and counted fires like an idiot child. "Always number your foemen," his father had once told him, "by the glitter of their fires." Sometimes he gazed at the stars and wondered if they too were his enemies.

Desperation glares in all Men, but it burns as a beacon when it takes a King for tinder. A

Holy Spirit, please overrule in my life that I will never quench the fire that You have caused to burn. Let me never pour water on wood You may want to ignite. I pray on bended knee that You will come unquenched into my heart and stay there without any hindrance from me. In Jesus's name, amen.

What's burning?" "Your brain.

Fire is always ready to burn the hand it warms.

He was smothered by dread. Fear. A horrible sense of being hunted. And then one of the automaton lions turned its head toward him. The eyes shone red. Red like blood. Red like fire. They could smell it on him, the illegal book. Or maybe just his fear

But I warn you, what pulls them together is nothing a mortal man may battle; it is a holy fire, I tell you, a most holy fire that burns in them. The devil can stoke a fire as well as ever God could.

by the fire while—or "whilst," as the Brits say

The fire had forged them both—she and her brother—into brittle instruments. Should she bend, she would break.

Some people misunderstand evil and believe it will relent, and because their misplaced hope inspires dark hearts to dream darker dreams, they are the fathers and mothers of all wars. Evil does not relent; it must be defeated. And even when defeated, uprooted, and purified by fire, evil leaves behind a seed that will one day germinate and, in blooming, again be misunderstood.

Still abiding under the same vault of stars that were, to her, filled with wonder and mystery; but that were, to him, nothing more than distant balls of fire and cataclysm

far back in the forest. Just when the pavement began to rise again, the headlights caught a sign on the left that announced FIRE ROAD / FORESTRY DEPT ONLY. In the absence of a fire, no one would be using that rough dirt track. Mrs. Fischer parked on it, facing out toward the state route, but in far enough among the trees to avoid being seen by passing traffic, of which we had encountered none since turning off the interstate. She damped the headlights, cut the engine.

Evil does not relent; it must be defeated. And even when defeated, uprooted, and purified by fire, evil leaves behind a seed that will one day germinate and, in blooming, again be misunderstood. I

She has been sitting on the step for half an hour when she hears semiautomatic rifle fire in the distance.

She likened Montana with Rocky Mountain oysters and thick, blood-filled steaks cooked over an open fire.

Witch's spell or not, he would take her, possess her- own her. It wasn't his intent when he kissed her. Fires of damnation! He never planned to kiss the wench! It just...happened.

Time is the school in which we learn, Time is the fire in which we burn. (Calmly We Walk Through This April's Day)

Time is the school in which we learn, Time is the fire in which we burn.

Each minute bursts in the burning room, The great globe reels in the solar fire, Spinning the trivial and unique away. (How all things flash! How all things flare!) What am I now that I was then? May memory restore again and again The smallest color of the smallest day: Time is the school in which we learn, Time is the fire in which we burn.

Time is the fire in which we burn.

What will become of you and me (This is the school in which we learn ...) Besides the photo and the memory? (... that time is the fire in which we burn.) Avid its rush, that reeling blaze! Where is my father and Eleanor? Not where are they now, dead seven years, But what they were then? No more? No more?