Dust Quotes - Page 20

• It is a slightly arresting notion that if you were to pick yourself apart with tweezers, one atom at a time, you would produce a mound of fine atomic dust, none of which had ever been alive but all of which had once been you.

  Bill Bryson

  Life, Science, Atoms

  Bill Bryson (2014). “A Short History of Nearly Everything”, p.3, Lulu Press, Inc

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• I've lived to bury my desires and see my dreams corrode with rust now all that's left are fruitless fires that burn my empty heart to dust. Struck by the clouds of cruel fate My crown of Summer bloom is sere Alone and sad, I watch and wait And wonder if the end is near. As conquered by the last cold air When Winter whistles in the wind Alone upon a branch that's bare A trembling leaf is left behind.

  Alexander Pushkin

  Summer, Dream, Heart

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• This wasn't the sea of the inexorable horizon and smashing waves, not the sea of distance and violence, but the sea of the etenally leveling patience and wetness of water. Whether it comes to you in a storm or in a cup, it owns you--we are more water than dust. It is our origin and our destination.

  Denis Johnson

  Distance, Sea, Water

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• You got a job?" "Ignatius hasta help me at home," Mrs. Reilly said. Her initial courage was failing a little, and she began to twist the lute string with the cord on the cake boxes. "I got terrible arthuritis." "I dust a bit," Ignatius told the policeman. "In addition, I am at the moment writing a lengthy indictment against our century. When my brain begins to reel from my literary labors, I make an occasional cheese dip.

  John Kennedy Toole

  Jobs, Home, Writing

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• Around us, life bursts with miracles--a glass of water, a ray of sunshine, a leaf, a caterpillar, a flower, laughter, raindrops. If you live in awareness, it is easy to see miracles everywhere. Each human being is a multiplicity of miracles. Eyes that see thousands of colors, shapes, and forms; ears that hear a bee flying or a thunderclap; a brain that ponders a speck of dust as easily as the entire cosmos; a heart that beats in rhythm with the heartbeat of all beings. When we are tired and feel discouraged by life's daily struggles, we may not notice these miracles, but they are always there.

  Nhat Hanh

  Laughter, Struggle, Flower

  Thich Nhat Hanh (2011). “Your True Home: The Everyday Wisdom of Thich Nhat Hanh: 365 days of practical, powerful teaching s from the beloved Zen teacher”, p.3, Shambhala Publications

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• Fiction is about everything human and we are made out of dust, and if you scorn getting yourself dusty, then you shouldn't try to write fiction. It's not a grand enough job for you.

  Flannery O'Connor

  Jobs, Writing, Trying

  Flannery O'Connor (1969). “Mystery and Manners: Occasional Prose”, p.68, Macmillan

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• I could scream down 90 mountains to less than dust if only one living human had eyes in the head and heart in the body, but there is no chance, my god, no chance. rat with rat dog with dog hog with hog, play the piano drunk listen to the drunk piano, realize the myth of mercy stand still as even a child's voice snarls and we have not been fooled, it was only that we wanted to believe.

  Charles Bukowski

  Dog, Children, Believe

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• Quotes about Life Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream! For the soul is dead that slumbers, and things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art; to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  Life, Death, Dream

  "A Psalm of Life" st. 1 - 2 (1838)

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• People think that alien spaceships would be solid and made of metal and have lights all over them and move slowly through the sky because that is how we would build a spaceship if we were able to build one that big. But aliens, if they exist, would probably be very different from us. They might look like big slugs, or be flat like reflections. Or they might be bigger than planets. Or they might not have bodies at all. They might just be information, like in a computer. And their spaceships might look like clouds, or be made up of unconnected objects like dust or leaves.

  Mark Haddon

  Moving, Reflection, Thinking

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• Truth is a well-known pathological liar. It invariably turns out to be Fiction wearing a fancy frock. Self-proclaimed Fiction, on the other hand, is entirely honest. You can tell this, because it comes right out and says, "I'm a Liar," right there on the dust jacket.

  Alan Moore

  Liars, Self, Hands

  "Correspondence From Hell: Part 3". Cerebus, issue 219, 2003.

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• To subdue one's self to one's own ends might be dangerous, but to subdue one's self to other people's ends was dust and ashes. Yet there were those, still more unhappy, who envied even the ashy saltness of those dead sea apples.

  Dorothy L. Sayers

  Self, Sea, Apples

  Dorothy L. Sayers (2012). “Gaudy Night”, p.541, Open Road Media

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• A crippled child Said, "How shall I dance?" Let your heart dance We said. Then the invalid said: "How shall I sing?" Let your heart sing We said Then spoke the poor dead thistle, "But I, how shall I dance?" Let your heart fly to the wind We said. Then God spoke from above "How shall I descend from the blue?" Come dance for us here in the light We said. All the valley is dancing Together under the sun, And the heart of him who joins us not Is turned to dust, to dust.

  Gabriela Mistral

  Children, Heart, Blue

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• The huge round lunar clock was a gristmill. Shake down all the grains of Time—the big grains of centuries, and the small grains of years, and the tiny grains of hours and minutes—and the clock pulverized them, slid Time silently out in all directions in a fine pollen, carried by cold winds to blanket the town like dust, everywhere. Spores from that clock lodged in your flesh to wrinkle it, to grow bones to monstrous size, to burst feet from shoes like turnips. Oh, how that great machine…dispensed Time in blowing weathers.

  Ray Bradbury

  Feet, Wrinkles, Years

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• So you wish to conquer in the Olympic Games, my friend? And I, too... But first mark the conditions and the consequences. You will have to put yourself under discipline; to eat by rule, to avoid cakes and sweetmeats; to take exercise at the appointed hour whether you like it or not, in cold and heat; to abstain from cold drinks and wine at your will. Then, in the conflict itself you are likely enough to dislocate your wrist or twist your ankle, to swallow a great deal of dust, to be severely thrashed, and after all of these things, to be defeated.

  Epictetus

  Wine, Exercise, Games

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• The seeker after truth should be humbler than the dust. The world crushes the dust under its feet, but the seeker after truth should so humble himself that even the dust could crush him. Only then, and not till then, will he have a glimpse of truth.

  Mahatma Gandhi

  Crush, Wise, Humble

  Mahatma Gandhi (1948). “Autobiography: The Story of My Experiments with Truth”, p.9, Courier Corporation

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• Better was it to go unknown and leave behind you an arch, then to burn like a meteor and leave no dust.

  Virginia Woolf

  Arches, Meteors, Behind You

  Virginia Woolf (2006). “Orlando (Annotated): A Biography”, p.146, HMH

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• We need a coat with two pockets. In one pocket there is dust, and in the other pocket there is gold. We need a coat with two pockets to remind us who we are.

  Parker J. Palmer

  Two, Gold, Pockets

  Parker J. Palmer (2012). “The Courage to Teach: Exploring the Inner Landscape of a Teacher's Life”, p.113, John Wiley & Sons

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• Books should go where they will be most appreciated, and not sit unread, gathering dust on a forgotten shelf, don't you agree?

  Christopher Paolini

  Book, Gathering, Appreciated

  Christopher Paolini (2014). “The Inheritance Cycle Complete Collection: Eragon, Eldest, Brisingr, Inheritance”, p.1756, Knopf Books for Young Readers

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• A truth comes out when it must; A dream comes true when it will. Though the world turn to ash and dust A secret’s a secret still.

  Sharon Shinn

  Dream, Secret, Ashes

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• The same stream of life that runs through my veins night and day runs through the world and dances in rhythmic measures. It is the same life that shoots in joy through the dust of the earth in numberless blades of grass and breaks into tumultuous waves of leaves and flowers.

  Rabindranath Tagore

  Running, Nature, Flower

  Rabindranath Tagore, Mohit Kumar Ray (2007). “Poems”, p.38, Atlantic Publishers & Dist

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• In that Macondo forgotten even by the birds, where the dust and the heat had become so strong that it was difficult to breathe, secluded by solitude and love and by the solitude of love in a house where it was almost impossible to sleep because of the noise of the red ants, Aureliano, and Amaranta Úrsula were the only happy beings, and the most happy on the face of the earth.

  Gabriel Garcia Marquez

  Strong, Sleep, House

  "One Hundred Years of Solitude". Book by Gabriel Garcia Marquez (p. 404), 1967.

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• She's sent the crows out to blind the guests coming for dinner!" What?" She's BLINDING THE GUESTS COMING FOR DINNER!" Well, that's one way to avoid having to dust, I suppose.

  Gregory Maguire

  Crow, Guests, Dinner

  Gregory Maguire (2011). “Wicked”, p.421, Hachette UK

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• As things stand now, I am going to be a writer. I'm not sure that I'm going to be a good one or even a self-supporting one, but until the dark thumb of fate presses me to the dust and says 'you are nothing', I will be a writer.

  Hunter S. Thompson

  Writing, Fate, Dark

  Hunter S. Thompson, Beef Torrey, Kevin Simonson (2008). “Conversations with Hunter S. Thompson”, p.10, Univ. Press of Mississippi

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• You're water. We're the millstone. You're wind. We're dust blown up into shapes. You're spirit. We're the opening and closing of our hands. You're the clarity. We're the language that tries to say it. You're joy. We're all the different kinds of laughing.

  Rumi

  Spiritual, Hands, Wind

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• Because it is my name! Because I cannot have another in my life! Because I lie and sign myself to lies! Because I am not worth the dust on the feet of them that hang! How may I live without my name? I have given you my soul; leave me my name!

  Arthur Miller

  Lying, Names, Feet

  Arthur Miller (1953). “The Crucible”, p.90, Dramatists Play Service Inc

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