When the devout religion of mine eye Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires, And these, who, often drowned, could never die, Transparent heretics, be burnt for liars! One fairer than my love? The all-seeing sun Ne'er saw her match since f...
When we die, as when the scenes have been fixed on to celluloid and the scenery is pulled down and burnt — we are phantoms in the memories of our descendants. Then we are ghosts, my dear, then we are myths. But still we are together. We are the pas...
Is being burnt a requisite for the making of art? Personally, I don't think it is. But art is poultice for a burn. It is a privilege to have, somewhere within you, a capacity for making something speak from your own seared experience.
Scarring smiles, hidden tears, You stand, heads bowed and revere The soul before us, burnt and torn Her faded essence, we sadly mourn And though she walked a path of lies Her spirit surely still shall rise And among her own, she can be at peace An et...
My grandfather was a healer, and he used matches often. Once, he burnt a wart off my finger and then rubbed the ash deep into it, and it never did come back. When he worked at a factory, people would line up next to his truck to be healed. He died be...
When Rose takes to screaming, she starts loud, continues loud, and ends loud. Rose has a very good ear and always screams on the same note. I'd tested her before I burnt the library, and our piano along with it. Rose screams on the note B flat. We do...
Praise not the day until evening has come, a woman until she is burnt, a sword until it is tried, a maiden until she is married, ice until it has been crossed, beer until it has been drunk.
What kind of woman is still able to trust people after everything she's been through? If she'd been Vin, she would have stabbed him in the back at the first opportunity, and that would have probably been the right thing to do. Yet, this girl just con...
Every tree in the forest has a story to tell. Some of them were burnt but they endured the fire and got revived; some of them were cut, their barks injured, some people pick up their leaves to make medicines for their sicknesses, birds used their lea...
Buddha wrote a code which he said would be useful to guide men in darkness, but he never claimed to be the Light of the world. Buddhism was born with a disgust for the world, when a prince's son deserted his wife and child, turning from the pleasures...
In 1492, the natives discovered they were indians, discovered they lived in America, discovered they were naked, discovered that the Sin existed, discovered they owed allegiance to a King and Kingdom from another world and a God from another sky, and...
You can be so much in a room that the world outside turns to water. You've got the heater blowing out burnt air, but you still don't get warm. Your ankles are singed, but your head's in a bucket of ice. Time drips like a stalactite. The water for the...
I had a dream about you. You were cooking me dinner, and I was standing by the stove questioning your every move. You found me ungrateful, and I found the number for Chinese takeout. I may not have wanted your food, but I still wanted your love. Your...
Pasha: The private life is dead - for a man with any manhood. Zhivago: I saw some of your 'manhood' on the way at a place called Minsk. Pasha: They were selling horses to the Whites. Zhivago: It seems you've burnt the wrong village. Pasha: They alway...
Old Woman: Some of those stars have been burnt out for a long, long time. They're dead, but once they were so bright that their light is still travelling through space. We can still see them. Thomas: How can you tell which one is dead and which one i...
[first lines] Cavalry scout: These hills here are full of Apaches. They've burnt every ranch building in sight. [referring to Indian scout] Cavalry scout: He had a brush with them last night. Says they're being stirred up by Geronimo. Capt. Sickel: G...
Celine: ...we don't have to spend our lives comparing ourselves to Martin Luther King, Gandhi, Tolstoy... Jesse: What about Joan of Arc, right, she was a teenager and she saved France, so... Celine: Who wants to be Joan of Arc? Forget France, she was...
Lestat: I despise you! I ought to destroy you-finish what I started when I made you. Turn you into ashes and sift them through my hands. You know that I could do it! Like that! Like the snap of mortal fingers, I could do it. Burn you as I burnt your ...
I am Envy, begotten of a chimney-sweeper and an oyster-wife. I cannot read, and therefore wish all books were burnt; I am lean with seeing others eat - O that there would come a famine through all the world, that all might die, and I live alone; then...
It was like this blackness that crept into the corners of my life until everything was grey and dirty. My insides felt burnt out, like if you cut me open, all you would find would be smoke. No heart. No bones. There was nothing left, just the anger. ...
Where did my friend go? Was there a place they all gathered, the lost and self destructive? Was there a room they put them in? Necks burnt with rope or holes in their skulls. Beach-water bloated. I will know this at the end of my conversation with li...
