Burning Quotes - Page 31

• We didn't start the fire It was always burning Since the world's been turning We didn't start the fire No we didn't light it But we tried to fight it

  Billy Joel

  Fighting, Light, Fire

  FaceBook post by Billy Joel from Jan 09, 2014

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• My blood rose, mixing with my lingering fear of the unknown to drive her to a fever pitch. Her lips touched my lower neck and vertigo spun the room, burning tracings of desire to settle deep and low in me. I exhaled into the promise of more to come, calling it to me. I breathed it in like smoke, the rising passion starting a feeling of abandonment inside. I didn’t care anymore if it was right or wrong. It just was.

  Kim Harrison

  Passion, Blood, Rose

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• The dying sun will glow on you without burning, as it has done today. The wind will be soft and mellow and your hilltop will tremble. As you reach the end of your dance you will look at the sun, for you will never see it again in waking or in dreaming, and then your death will point to the south. To the vastness.

  Carlos Castaneda

  Dream, Acceptance, Wind

  Carlos Castaneda (2012). “Journey To Ixtlan”, p.155, Simon and Schuster

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• A joyful heart is the normal result of a heart burning with love. She gives most who gives with joy.

  Mother Teresa

  Heart, Giving, Joy

  Mother Teresa of Calcutta (2010). “In the Heart of the World: Thoughts, Stories & Prayers (Easyread Large Edition)”, p.14, ReadHowYouWant.com

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• If Under fell, if Over leaped, If death was life and Death life reaped, Something rises from the gloom, To make the Underland a tomb Hear it scratching down below, Rat of long forgotten snow, Evil cloaked in coat of White, Will the Warrior drain your light? What could turn the Warrior week? What do burning Gnawers seek? Just a barely speaking pup That holds the Land of Under up Die the baby, die his heart Die his most essential part Die the peace that rules the hour, Gnawers have their key to power

  Suzanne Collins

  Baby, Heart, Warrior

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• And now, my poor old woman, why are you crying so bitterly? It is autumn. The leaves are falling from the trees like burning tears- the wind howls. Why must you mimic them?

  Mervyn Peake

  Fall, Autumn, Wind

  Mervyn Peake (1995). “The Gormenghast Novels”, Overlook Books

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• Of four infernal rivers that disgorge/ Into the burning Lake their baleful streams;/Abhorred Styx the flood of deadly hate,/Sad Acheron of sorrow, black and deep;/Cocytus, nam'd of lamentation loud/ Heard on the rueful stream; fierce Phlegethon/ Whose waves of torrent fire inflame with rage./ Far off from these a slow and silent stream,/ Lethe the River of Oblivion rolls/ Her wat'ry Labyrinth whereof who drinks,/ Forthwith his former state and being forgets,/ Forgets both joy and grief, pleasure and pain.

  John Milton

  Pain, Hate, Grief

  John Milton, “Paradise Lost: Book 02”

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• One day I'll give birth to a tiny baby girl and when she's born she'll scream and I'll tell her to never stop I will kiss her before I lay her down at night and will tell her a story so she knows how it is and how it must be for her to survive I'll tell her to set things on fire and keep them burning I'll teach her that fire will not consume her that she must use it

  Nicole Blackman

  Girl, Baby, Kissing

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• You okay? (Grace) Oh, yeah. I’m just fine considering the fact I’ve walked through burning fires that hurt less than my groin does right now. (Julian) I said I was sorry. Okay, can you reach the pedals? (Grace) I’d like to reach your pedals…(Julian) Julian! Would you concentrate? (Grace) All right. I’m concentrating. (Julian) I don’t mean on my breasts. (He dropped his hungry gaze to her lap.) Or there, either. (Grace)

  Sherrilyn Kenyon

  Hurt, Sorry, Mean

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• There was a still life on Billy's bedside table-two pills, an ashtray with three lipstick-stained cigarettes in it, one cigarette still burning, and a glass of water. The water was dead. So it goes. Air was trying to get out of the dead water. Bubbles were clinging to the walls of the glass, too weak to climb out.

  Kurt Vonnegut

  Wall, Glasses, Air

  KURT VONNEGUT JR (1969). “SLAUGHTERHOUSE FIVE”

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• And as I watched him, I knew that in every dark night there was, somewhere, a small light burning that could never be quenched.

  Juliet Marillier

  Dark, Night, Light

  Juliet Marillier (2008). “Son of the Shadows: A Sevenwaters Novel 2”, p.193, Pan Australia

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• I want it real. I want to know that there is someone, somewhere, who wants it, too. Or else what is the use of seeing it, and working, and burning oneself for an impossible vision? A spirit, too, needs fuel. It can run dry

  Ayn Rand

  Running, Real, Vision

  Ayn Rand (2005). “The Early Ayn Rand: Revised Edition: A Selection From Her Unpublished Fiction”, p.281, Penguin

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• Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs; Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; Being vexed, a sea nourished with loving tears. What is it else? A madness most discreet, A choking gall, and a preserving sweet. *Here’s what love is: a smoke made out of lovers' sighs. When the smoke clears, love is a fire burning in your lover’s eyes. If you frustrate love, you get an ocean made out of lovers' tears. What else is love? It’s a wise form of madness. It’s a sweet lozenge that you choke on.*

  William Shakespeare

  Wise, Sweet, Ocean

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• One fire burns out another's burning, One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish.

  William Shakespeare

  Pain, Fire, Juliet

  William Shakespeare (2000). “Romeo and Juliet”, p.36, Classic Books Company

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• How does it taste?” Carter wondered. Zia smiled. “Stick out your tongue.” To answer Carter’s question, the tattoo tasted like burning car tires. “Ugh.” I spit a blue gob of “order and harmony” into the fountain.

  Rick Riordan

  Tattoo, Blue, Order

  Rick Riordan (2010). “The Kane Chronicles, The, Book One: Red Pyramid”, Hyperion

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• Carter started down the stairs, but I grabbed his arm. “Hang on. What about traps?” He frowned. “Traps?” “Didn’t Egyptian tombs have traps?” “Well…sometimes. But this isn’t a tomb. Besides, more often they had curses, like the burning curse, the donkey curse—” “Oh, lovely. That sounds so much better.

  Rick Riordan

  Lovely, Sound, Arms

  Rick Riordan (2013). “The Kane Chronicles: The Complete Series”, p.76, Penguin UK

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• We’re burning,” Sadie pointed out helpfully. “Noticed!” I yelled back.

  Rick Riordan

  Sadie

  Rick Riordan (2010). “The Kane Chronicles, The, Book One: Red Pyramid”, Hyperion

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• The bowed head, the buried face. She is silent, she will never speak, never forgive, never reach a hand, never leave this frozen present tense. All waits, suspended. Suspended the autumn trees, the autumn sky, anonymous people. A blackbird, poor fool, sings out of season from the willows by the lake. A flight of pigeons over the houses; fragments of freedom, hazard, an anagram made flesh. And somewhere the stinging smell of burning leaves.

  John Fowles

  Autumn, Smell, Lakes

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• In the Heaven's above, the angels, whispering to one another, can find, among their burning terms of love, none so devotional as that of 'Mother.

  Edgar Allan Poe

  Mothers Day, Angel, Heaven

  Edgar Allan Poe (2016). “Edgar Allan Poe's Complete Poetical Works”, p.20, Lulu.com

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• Sit in a room and read--and read and read. And read the right books by the right people. Your mind is brought onto that level, and you have a nice, mild, slow-burning rapture all the time.

  Joseph Campbell

  Inspirational, Nice, Book

  Joseph Campbell, Bill Moyers (2011). “The Power of Myth”, p.122, Anchor

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• In one was, I suppose, I have been "in denial" for some time, knowingly burning the candle at both ends and finding that it often gives a lovely light. But for precisely this reason, I can't see myself smiting my brow with shock or hear myself whining about how it's all so unfair: I have been taunting the Reaper into taking a free scythe in my direction and have now succumbed to something so predictable and banal that it bores even me.

  Christopher Hitchens

  Light, Giving, Lovely

  Christopher Hitchens (2012). “Mortality”, p.13, Atlantic Books Ltd

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• It's just like John Mayer says in "Slow Dancing in a Burning Room". When it's this bad, you have to get out or you'll get burned.

  Susane Colasanti

  Dancing, Rooms, Burned

  Susane Colasanti (2009). “Waiting For You”, p.170, Penguin

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• But anything worth doing is worth doing badly. Like being there by that summer ocean on the other side of the island while love was fading out of her, the stars burning so extravagantly those nights that anyone could tell you they would never last.

  Jack Gilbert

  Summer, Stars, Ocean

  Jack Gilbert, “Failing And Flying”

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• That moment she was mine, mine, fair, Perfectly pure and good: I found A thing to do, and all her hair In one long yellow string I wound Three times her little throat around, And strangled her. No pain felt she; I am quite sure she felt no pain. As a shut bud that holds a bee, I warily oped her lids: again Laughed the blue eyes without a stain. And I untightened the next tress About her neck; her cheek once more Blushed bright beneath my burning kiss . . .

  Robert Browning

  Pain, Eye, Kissing

  'Porphyria's Lover' (1842) l. 38

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• What’s burning?” “Your brain.

  Rachel Caine

  Brain

  Rachel Caine (2009). “The Dead Girls' Dance”, p.32, Allison & Busby

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