Conflagration Quotes

Authors: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
Categories: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
one-has-to-speak-out-stand-up-for-ones-convictions-inaction-at-time-conflagration-is-inexcusable-mahatma-gandhi
if-shes-gonna-love-again-it-wont-be-eternity-but-hard-fast-conflagration-that-leaves-everyone-else-in-embers-lindsay-detwiler
the-whole-world-may-begin-to-burn-but-national-socialist-state-idea-will-emerge-from-conflagration-like-platinum-adolf-hitler
despite-his-care-reid-was-still-playing-with-fire-kind-that-could-without-warning-sheathe-ones-whole-life-in-irreversible-conflagration-paul-russell
principle-6-recognition-that-change-reform-are-not-identical-that-innovation-is-devouring-conflagration-more-often-than-it-is-torch-progress-russell-kirk
do-you-still-think-world-is-vast-that-if-there-is-conflagration-in-one-place-it-does-not-have-bearing-on-another-that-you-can-sit-it-out-in-peace-on-your-veranda-admiring-your-ab
if-we-are-more-affected-by-ruin-palace-than-by-conflagration-cottage-our-humanity-must-have-formed-erroneous-estimate-miseries-human-life-edward-gibbon
what-message-years-conflagration-have-you-madness-hope-on-thin-cheeks-strained-by-war-liberation-bloody-reflections-still-remain-alexander-blok
photography-promises-enhanced-mastery-nature-but-photography-also-threatens-conflagration-anarchy-allan-sekula
i-not-only-saw-possibility-nuclear-war-i-feared-it-much-if-they-started-military-conflagration-it-would-automatically-lead-to-nuclear-warfare-stefan-heym
we-wish-to-make-rage-into-fire-that-cooks-things-rather-than-fire-conflagration-clarissa-pinkola-estes
her-face-was-brilliant-glowing-but-this-glow-was-not-one-brightness-it-suggested-fearful-glow-conflagration-in-midst-dark-night-leo-tolstoy
once-desire-was-turned-on-combustion-gave-it-life-its-own-once-it-was-turned-on-it-became-raging-wildfire-uncontrollable-uncontainable-type-conflagration-that-had-to-be-allowed-t
authentic-love-always-assumes-mystery-modesty-even-in-its-expression-because-actions-speak-louder-than-words-unlike-feigned-love-it-feels-no-need-honore-de-balzac
we-should-have-glorious-conflagration-if-all-who-cannot-put-fire-into-their-works-would-only-consent-to-put-their-works-into-fire-charles-caleb-colton
Three miles from my adopted city lies a village where I came to peace. The world there was a calm place, even the great Danube no more than a pale ribbon tossed onto the landscape by a girl's careless hand. Into this stillness I had been ordered to recover. The hills were gold with late summer; my rooms were two, plus a small kitchen, situated upstairs in the back of a cottage at the end of the Herrengasse. From my window I could see onto the courtyard where a linden tree twined skyward - leafy umbilicus canted toward light, warped in the very act of yearning - and I would feed on the sun as if that alone would dismantle the silence around me. At first I raged. Then music raged in me, rising so swiftly I could not write quickly enough to ease the roiling. I would stop to light a lamp, and whatever I'd missed - larks flying to nest, church bells, the shepherd's home-toward-evening song - rushed in, and I would rage again. I am by nature a conflagration; I would rather leap than sit and be looked at. So when my proud city spread her gypsy skirts, I reentered, burning towards her greater, constant light. Call me rough, ill-tempered, slovenly- I tell you, every tenderness I have ever known has been nothing but thwarted violence, an ache so permanent and deep, the lightest touch awakens it... It is impossible to care enough. I have returned with a second Symphony and 15 Piano Variations which I've named Prometheus, after the rogue Titan, the half-a-god who knew the worst sin is to take what cannot be given back. I smile and bow, and the world is loud. And though I dare not lean in to shout Can't you see that I'm deaf? - I also cannot stop listening.

Rita Dove
three-miles-from-my-adopted-city-lies-village-where-i-came-to-peace-the-world-there-was-calm-place-even-great-danube-no-more-than-pale-ribbon-tossed-onto-landscape-by-girls-carel
in-cage-wireribs-the-size-mans-head-macaw-bristles-in-staring-combustion-suffers-stoking-devils-his-eyes-in-old-ladys-parlour-where-aspidistra-succumbs-to-musk-faded-velvet-he-ha
The moon fled eastward like a frightened dove, while the stars changed their places in the heavens, like a disbanding army. 'Where are we?' asked Gil Gil. 'In France, ' responded the Angel of Death. 'We have now traversed a large portion of the two bellicose nations which waged so sanguinary a war with each other at the beginning of the present century. We have seen the theater of the War of Succession. Conquered and conquerors both lie sleeping at this instant. My apprentice, Sleep, rules over the heroes who did not perish then, in battle, or afterward of sickness or of old age. I do not understand why it is that below on earth all men are not friends? The identity of your misfortunes and your weaknesses, the need you have of each other, the shortness of your life, the spectacle of the grandeur of other worlds, and the comparison between them and your littleness, all this should combine to unite you in brotherhood, like the passengers of a vessel threatened with shipwreck. There, there is neither love, nor hate, nor ambition, no one is debtor or creditor, no one is great or little, no one is handsome or ugly, no one is happy or unfortunate. The same danger surrounds all and my presence makes all equal. Well, then, what is the earth, seen from this height, but a ship which is foundering, a city delivered up to an epidemic or a conflagration?' 'What are those ignes fatui which I can see shining in certain places on the terrestrial globe, ever since the moon veiled her light?' asked the young man. 'They are cemeteries. We are now above Paris. Side by side with every city, every town, every village of the living there is always a city, a town, or a village of the dead, as the shadow is always beside the body. Geography, then, is of two kinds, although mortals only speak of the kind which is agreeable to them. A map of all the cemeteries which there are on the earth would be sufficient indication of the political geography of your world. You would miscalculate, however, in regard to the population; the dead cities are much more densely populated than the living; in the latter there are hardly three generations at one time, while, in the former, hundreds of generations are often crowded together. As for the lights you see shining, they are phosphorescent gleams from dead bodies, or rather they are the expiring gleams of thousands of vanished lives; they are the twilight glow of love, ambition, anger, genius, mercy; they are, in short, the last glow of a dying light, of the individuality which is disappearing, of the being yielding back his elements to mother earth. They are - and now it is that I have found the true word - the foam made by the river when it mingles its waters with those of the ocean.' The Angel of Death paused. ("The Friend of Death")

Pedro Antonio de Alarcon
the-moon-fled-eastward-like-frightened-dove-while-stars-changed-their-places-in-heavens-like-disbanding-army-where-are-we-asked-gil-gil-in-france-responded-angel-death-we-have-no
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