Quotes About Fire

All For a Day" All day I have written words: My subject has been that. Words. And I am wrong. And the words. I burn Three pages of them. Words. And the moon, moonlight, that too I burn. —A poem remains. But in the words, in the words In the fire that is now words. I eat the words that remain. And am eaten. By nothing, By all that I have not made.

Crimson nor yellow roses nor The savor of the mounting sea Are worth the perfume I adore That clings to thee. The languid-headed lilies tire, The changeless waters weary me; I ache with passionate desire Of thine and thee. There are but these things in the world— Thy mouth of fire, Thy breasts, thy hands, thy hair upcurled And my desire.

I ate sitting in the kitchen in silence, thinking about future. I saw tornadoes, hurricanes, tidal waves, fire. Then I washed the frying pan, plate and silverware, brushed away the crumbs and unbolted the door to the courtyard. Before I left, I turned out the light.

Besides, if there were no dragons of flesh and blood and fire, whence would come the idea for these stone carvings?

But all fires, of wood or grief, burn down to ashes eventually.

Passed through fire and plunged through salt water and offered to the winds of the air; thus were names sealed to these chosen children.

All that is of dragons belongs only to dragons.

The fire of my burning past sent odd shadows snaking ahead of us as we made our way into the storm's resurgence.

Then silence, save for the rain thundering on the roof and splatting on the innyard mud. Silence, save for the soft crackling of the fire, and the distant music from the common room below. Silence but for unsteady footsteps making their way past our door. But most of all, the crashing silence in my heart where for so long Nighteyes' awareness had been a steady beacon in my darkness, a warmth in my winter, a guide star in my night.

Katie looked up at the seamless blue sky and drew in a deep breath. The pure oxygen seemed only to fuel the fire that was burning inside her, the fire that burned for both Eli and for Africa. She was in love. She knew it. But for now, that was a truth that shouldn't be revealed to anyone. Not even Eli. As if he didn't already know.

But the LORD was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper. 1 KINGS 19:11–12

Your own fire, your spirit. We all carry a piece of that sacred fire within us. We have to honour it and care for it. You are the fire keeper.

I don't know how the eighth fire will be lit. But I do know we can gather the tinder that will nurture the flame, that we can be shkitagen to carry the fire, as it was carried to us. Is this not a holy thing, the kindling of this fire? So much depends on the spark.

but there's fire you must tend to every day. The hardest one to take care of is the one right here," he says, tapping his finger against his chest. "Your own fire, your spirit. We all carry a piece of that sacred fire within us. We have to honor it and care for it. You are the firekeeper.

People loved the salmon the way fire loves grass and the blaze loves the darkness of the sea.

Who could put a match to money?

Humanity is the start of the race; I say Humanity is the mould to break away from, the crust to break through, the coal to break into fire, The atom to be split.

Before there was any water there were tides of fire, both our tones flow from the older fountain.

When he came back, he fed the fire, rolled out his pallet, turned off the light and laid down. After several minutes of quiet darkness, she heard his voice. "Sorry if I scared you. I don't roar that often." -Ian to Marcie

Bootleg miners did what's called robbing back, working the mine the wrong way, back to front, chipping away the coal pillars that were left to support the mine roof. They took out the pillars, collapsing the mines. It made it impossible to stop the fire when the government filled the shafts with fly ash in the seventies, and again in the eighties." Cate

If fire doesn't raze the mountain, the land will not be fertile.

A word I read comes to mind: solastalgia, a miserable tangle of solace, desolation, and nostalgia. Glenn Albrecht defines it as the distress of seeing a familiar environment bitterly transformed by drought, fire, flood, war.

Glenn Albrecht defines it as the distress of seeing a familiar environment bitterly transformed by drought, fire, flood, war. But it describes perfectly

Although upon reflection, Jole wasn't sure of the advisability of introducing a keen young officer to Vorkosigan notions of initiative. Metaphors about fighting fire with gasoline rose to his mind.