Quotes About Fire

POTUS whose pants are routinely on fire Could be Dumpty the Huckster or Dumpty the Liar. With his bullshit throughout our pandemic attack, An apt nom de guerre would be Dumpty the Quack.

A wind's in the heart of me, a fire's in my heels

The sex was so passionate it bordered on violence. It was not vanilla. It was passion as suffering

And Marlowe, Webster, Fletcher, Ben, Whose fire-hearts sowed our furrows when The world was worthy of such men.

And here fantastic fishes duskly float, Using the calm for waters, while their fires Throb out quick rhythms along the shallow air.

Nor mourn, O living One, because her part in life was mourning: Would she have lost the poet's fire for the anguish of the burning? The minstrel harp, for the strained string? tripod for the afflated Woe, or the vision, for those tears in which it shone dilated?

You know," he said, "every time a vampire says he doesn't believe in lycanthropes, a werewolf bursts into flames.

The only God is in the numbers and the fire; in the equations and the furnace

Oh, Ellie. You are still so slick. Patty lost as much as the rest of us. More. Here we are, and love each other, and links forged in shared fire. And Patty's got herself and the voices in her head.

When the massive door swung open, though, and the puff of escaping air sailed them grandly into the crooked sunlight between the world's vast webworked cables, Rien forgot everything but the cold black fire-pricked vault of the universe stretching out forever, and the wheeling world that framed it on each side.

I stamp out the flames, the mtal sprays from beneath my boot, falling, freezing in the shape of a splash, red cooled to silver, still too hot for human touch.

The light from the windows fell across Àine's alabaster profile like the glow from a fire. She turned and winked at me, her eyes liquid and lovely as a doe.

She could no longer thrust her hand into living flame and cup it like water, from palm to palm.

In you there may persist some spark of what's everywhere else gone out: who knows why else I've loved you? Through love you've lit me – don't quarrel now with which way the fire blows.

All that remains is regret for what might have been. It is like standing in the ashes of a fire you once approached to warm your body a little, but which burned you to the bone instead. Now the ashes are cold, and sometimes you remember that even when your hand was in the flames, you still had a terrible need to thrust it deeper.

All that remains is regret for what might have been. It is like standing in the ashes of a fire you once approached to warm your body a little, but which burned you to the bone instead.

When the flaming pieces descended, those that fell on other buildings set them aflame also, so that the whole surrounding area soon resembled a suburb of hell,

If in this life only we have hope....." By God, that was true, too. This quickening divine power that he had experienced could not be confined to this world, for cruel, sordid, ugly, devilish can be this world, and by the nature of things that power could have neither source nor ending in it; only flow through it, around it, over it, under it, gathering up the gold into its eternal shining and burning the dross in its fire.

The fires of youth are not dead in old age... only banked down.

I love you," she sobbed, rubbing her hands over his face, his hair, his chest, making sure he was solid and real. "I love you, and I thought you were dead. I couldn't bear it. I thought I would die too." "I'd walk through fire for you," he rasped, his voice hoarse and broken. "I have walked through fire for you.

When the Alvarezes went looking for cores the company had drilled in the area, they were told that they'd been destroyed in a fire; really, though, they had just been misplaced.

Grief, as I understood it - grief and I were acquainted - is the kind of loss that sets you on fire as you struggle to put it out.

That damn spark.

Why is ink like a fire? Because it is a good servant and a hard master.