Quotes About Fire

Solo resta mencionar una predicción que mi Bombero jefe, Beatty, hizo en 1953, en medio de mi libro. Se refería a la posibilidad de quemar libros sin cerillas ni fuego. Porque no hace falta quemar libros si el mundo empieza a llenarse de gente que no lee, que no aprende, que no sabe.

Fata, în focul armei, în c?ldur?, sub È™oc, se îndoi ca o eÈ™arf? moale, se topi ca o figurin? de cleÈ™tar. În urma ei, gheaÈ›a, fulgii de z?pad?, fumul se risipir? în vânt. Locul de la cârm? r?mase gol.

There must be something in books, things we can't imagine, to make a woman stay in a burning house; there must be something there. You don't stay for nothing.

Do we want the stars? We can have them. Can we borrow cups of fire from the sun? We can and must and light the world

What is fire? It's a mystery. Scientists give us gobbledegook about friction and molecules. But they don't really know. Its real beauty is that it destroys responsibility and consequences. A problem gets too burdensome, then into the furnace with it.

One fire would destroy all of us, no matter who started it, for what reason.

spitting its venomous kerosene upon the world, the blood pounded in his head, and his hands were the hands of some amazing conductor playing all the symphonies of blazing and burning to bring down the tatters and charcoal ruins of history.

He hung up his black beetle-colored helmet and shined it; he hung his flameproof jacket neatly; he showed luxuriously, and then, whistling, hands in pockets, walked across the upper floor of the fire station and fell down the hole.

No aflijamos a los hombres con recuerdos. Que olviden. Quememos, quemémoslo todo. El fuego es brillante y limpio.

That day in the park when we sat together, I knew that some day you might drop by, with fire or friendship.

Quemémoslo todo, absolutamente todo. El fuego es brillante y limpio.

Man vergesse sie. Man verbrenne sie, man verbrenne alles. Das Feuer ist hell, das Feuer ist sauber.

Ten minutes after death a man's a speck of black dust. Let's not quibble over individuals with memoriams. Forget them. Burn them all, burn everything. Fire is bright and fire is clean.

All of his books were burned in the Great Fire. That's thirty years ago—2006.

It was not burning, it was warming.

Yakmak bir zevkti.

?t ph?i có cái gì Ä'ó trong nh?ng cu?n sách, nh?ng th? ta không th? hình dung, nó khi?n cho ng??i Ä'àn bà ? l?i trong c?n nhà cháy, ph?i có cái gì ??y ? trong Ä'ó. Em ? l?i Ä'âu ph?i ch?ng vì má»™t cái gì.

Night after night for every year and every year, for no reason at all, the woman comes out and looks at the sky, her hands up, for a long moment, looking at the green burning of Earth, not knowing why she looks, and then she goes back and throws a stick on the fire, and the wind comes up and the dead sea goes on being dead.

Tiene que haber algo en los libros, cosas que no podemos imaginar para hacer a una mujer permanecer en una casa que arde. Ahí tiene que haber algo. Uno no se sacrifica por nada.

Oh the glamour of youth! Oh the fire of it, more dazzling than the flames of the burning ship, throwing a magic light on the wide earth, leaping audaciously to the sky, presently to be quenched by time, more cruel, more pitiless, more bitter than the sea—and like the flames of the burning ship surrounded by an impenetrable night.

the chipped plates might have been disinterred from some kitchen midden near an inhabited lake; and the chops recalled times more ancient still. They brought forcibly to one's mind the night of ages when the primeval man, evolving the first rudiments of cookery from his dim consciousness, scorched lumps of flesh at a fire of sticks...

It was solemn, and a little ridiculous too, as they always are, those struggles of an individual trying to save from the fire his idea of what his moral identity should be, this precious notion of a convention, only one of the rules of the game, nothing more, but all the same so terribly effective by its assumption of unlimited power over natural instincts, by the awful penalties of its failure.

bearers of a spark from the sacred fire. What

Man was matter, that was Snowden's secret. Drop him out a window and he'll fall. Set fire to him and he'll burn. Bury him and he'll rot, like other kinds of garbage. That was Snowden's secret. Ripeness was all. 'I'm cold,' Snowden said. 'I'm cold. 'There, there,' said Yossarian. 'There, there.