Quotes by Dust Someone spoke of your death, Heraclitus. It brought me Tears, and I remembered how often together We ran the sun down with talk . . . somewhere You've long been dust, my Halicarnassian friend. But your Nightingales live on. Though the Death world Claws at everything, it will not touch them. Callimachus dust friendship long Honor in the Dust is less about the freedom of the Philippines than the soul of the United States. Candice Millard dust soul honor I never wanted to be a public figure. I feel that I always have to dampen down people's expectations. They expect me to be an oracle, wave a magic wand, sprinkle some slow, sparkly dust on them, to make everything all right. Carl Honore dust expectations people We live on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam Carl Sagan suspended sunbeams dust I believe our future depends powerfully on how well we understand this cosmos in which we float, like a mote of dust in the morning sky. Carl Sagan dust morning believe A galaxy is composed of gas and dust and stars - billions upon billions of stars. Every star may be a sun to someone. Carl Sagan dust stars may Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, if the women don't get you then the whiskey must. Carl Sandburg whiskey ashes dust Poetry is any page from a sketchbook of outlines of a doorknob with thumb-prints of dust, blood, dreams. Carl Sandburg dust dream blood And all poets love dust and mist because all the last answers. Go running back to dust and mist. Carl Sandburg dust poetry running Our most intimate contact with civilizations long since dust has been through the art which has survived them. Carlisle Floyd dust civilization art Einstein’s 1905 paper came out and suddenly changed people’s thinking about space-time. We’re again in the middle of something like that. When the dust settles, time—whatever it may be—could turn out to be even stranger and more illusory than even Einstein could imagine. Carlo Rovelli dust science thinking I was raised among books, making invisible friends in pages that seemed cast from dust and whose smell I carry on my hands to this day. Carlos Ruiz Zafon dust book hands We can be dry as dust, distracted and insensible to God's presence. Still we can pray...and if we make even the smallest gesture of availability he will be there. Carol Zaleski availability dust prayer A poet, to whom no one cruel or imposing listens, Carolyn Kizer senate poet dust There is something about libraries, old libraries, that makes them seem almost sacred. There's a smell of paper and must and binding stuff. It's like all the books are fighting against decay, against turning into dust, and at the same time fighting for attention. Carrie Jones fighting dust book People aren't evil and people aren't good. They live how they can one day at a time. They come out of dust they go back to dust, dusty feet, no wings, and whose fault is that? Caryl Churchill dust feet wings Amazing strength, amazing power - he (Ron Swoboda) can grind the dust out of the bat. He will be great, super even wonderful. Now, if he can only learn to catch a fly ball. Casey Stengel bats balls dust I believe in good and evil," said Jem. "And I believe the soul is eternal. But I don't believe in the fiery pit, the pitchforks, or endless torment. I do not believe you can threaten people into goodness." Tessa looked at will. "What about you? What do you believe? "Pulvis et umbra sumus," said Will, not looking at her as he spoke. "I believe we are dust and shadows. What else is there? Cassandra Clare dust believe people Pulvis et umbra sumus. It's a line from Horace. 'We are dust and shadows'. Appropriate, don't you think?" Will said. "It's not a long life, killing demons; one tends to die young, and then they burn your body - dust to dust, in the literal sense. And then we vanish into the shadows of history, nary a mark on the page of a mundane book to remind the world that once we existed at all. Cassandra Clare dust book thinking And indeed it was, the arrow still protruding from its wet, grayish skin, humping its body along with incredible speed. A flick of its tail caught the edge of a statue, sending it flying into the dry ornamental pool, where it shattered into dust. “By the Angel, it just crushed Sophocles,” noted Will. “Has no one respect for the classics these days? Cassandra Clare arrows dust angel «23456789101112»
