Dross 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
son-man-house-israel-has-become-dross-to-me-all-them-are-copper-tin-iron-lead-left-inside-furnace-they-are-but-dross-silver-ezekiel-2218
therefore-this-is-what-sovereign-lord-says-because-you-have-all-become-dross-i-will-gather-you-into-jerusalem-ezekiel-2219
remove-dross-from-silver-out-comes-material-for-silversmith-proverbs-254
i-will-turn-my-hand-against-you-i-will-thoroughly-purge-away-your-dross-remove-all-your-impurities-isaiah-125
all-wicked-earth-you-discard-like-dross-therefore-i-love-your-statutes-psalm-119119
your-silver-has-become-dross-your-choice-wine-is-diluted-with-water-isaiah-122
what-if-we-have-more-rough-file-if-we-have-less-rust-afflictions-carry-away-nothing-but-dross-sin-thomas-watson
thou-puttest-away-all-the-wicked-of-the-earth-like-dross-therefore-i-love-thy-testimonies
burning-lips-and-a-wicked-heart-are-like-a-potsherd-covered-with-silver-dross
therefore-thus-saith-the-lord-god-because-ye-are-all-become-dross-behold-therefore-i-will-gather-you-into-the-midst-of-jerusalem
unconscious-artist-is-her-greatest-treasure-it-is-what-transmutes-dross-autobiography-into-gold-myth-erica-jong
the-sense-itself-was-i-i-felt-no-dross-matter-in-my-soul-no-brims-borders-such-as-in-bowl-we-see-my-essence-was-capacity-thomas-traherne
what-tender-force-what-dignity-divine-what-virtue-consecrating-every-feature-around-that-neck-what-dross-are-gold-pearl-edward-young
men-that-hazard-alldo-it-in-hope-fair-advantagesa-golden-mind-stoops-not-to-shows-dross-william-shakespeare
at-fifteen-one-is-first-beginning-to-realize-that-everything-isnt-money-power-in-this-world-is-casting-about-for-joys-that-do-not-turn-to-dross-in-ones-hands
this-discipline-rough-treatment-are-furnace-to-extract-silver-from-dross-this-testing-purifies-gold-by-boiling-scum-away-rumi
men-can-be-stupid-we-cease-to-value-what-we-have-until-its-gone-only-then-do-we-realize-gold-we-glimpsed-in-distant-hills-pales-as-dross-compared-ann-aguirre
but-leave-me-to-my-beer-gold-is-dross-love-is-loss-if-i-gulp-my-sorrows-down-see-them-drown-in-foamy-draughts-old-nutbrown-then-i-do-wear-crown-without-cross-george-arnold
and-i-will-turn-my-hand-upon-thee-and-purely-purge-away-thy-dross-and-take-away-all-thy-tin
at-devils-booth-are-all-things-sold-each-ounce-dross-costs-its-ounce-gold-james-russell-lowell
what-eyes-perceive-in-herbs-stones-trees-is-not-yet-remedy-eyes-see-only-dross
science-not-only-purifies-religious-impulse-dross-its-anthropomorphism-but-also-contributes-to-religious-spiritualization-our-understanding-albert-einstein
thy-silver-is-become-dross-thy-wine-mixed-with-water
fiction-i-believed-was-transmutation-experiential-dross-into-linguistic-gold-fiction-meant-taking-up-whatever-world-had-abandoned-by-road-making-jonathan-franzen
friendships-abstract-this-noble-flame-tis-love-refind-purged-from-all-its-dross-tis-next-to-angels-love-if-not-same-as-strong-in-passion-is-though-katherine-philips
i-run-with-music-all-time-i-cannot-run-without-my-ipod-i-have-everything-teddy-pendergrass-luther-van-dross-michael-jackson-outkast-if-usher-song-comes-on-its-fast-i-go-fast
when-through-fiery-trials-thy-pathways-shall-lie-my-grace-all-sufficient-shall-be-thy-supply-the-flame-shall-not-hurt-thee-i-only-design-thy-dross-to-consume-thy-gold-to-refine-j
murky-water-dusty-mirror-murky-water-is-turbid-let-it-settle-it-clears-a-dusty-mirror-is-dim-clean-it-it-is-bright-what-i-realize-as-i-observe-this-is-tao-clarifying-mind-perceiv
A Second Childhood.' When all my days are ending And I have no song to sing, I think that I shall not be too old To stare at everything; As I stared once at a nursery door Or a tall tree and a swing. Wherein God's ponderous mercy hangs On all my sins and me, Because He does not take away The terror from the tree And stones still shine along the road That are and cannot be. Men grow too old for love, my love, Men grow too old for wine, But I shall not grow too old to see Unearthly daylight shine, Changing my chamber's dust to snow Till I doubt if it be mine. Behold, the crowning mercies melt, The first surprises stay; And in my dross is dropped a gift For which I dare not pray: That a man grow used to grief and joy But not to night and day. Men grow too old for love, my love, Men grow too old for lies; But I shall not grow too old to see Enormous night arise, A cloud that is larger than the world And a monster made of eyes. Nor am I worthy to unloose The latchet of my shoe; Or shake the dust from off my feet Or the staff that bears me through On ground that is too good to last, Too solid to be true. Men grow too old to woo, my love, Men grow too old to wed; But I shall not grow too old to see Hung crazily overhead Incredible rafters when I wake And I find that I am not dead. A thrill of thunder in my hair: Though blackening clouds be plain, Still I am stung and startled By the first drop of the rain: Romance and pride and passion pass And these are what remain. Strange crawling carpets of the grass, Wide windows of the sky; So in this perilous grace of God With all my sins go I: And things grow new though I grow old, Though I grow old and die.

G.K. Chesterton
a-second-childhood-when-all-my-days-are-ending-and-i-have-no-song-to-sing-i-think-that-i-shall-not-be-too-old-to-stare-at-everything-as-i-stared-once-at-nursery-door-or-tall-tree
It is very easy to grow tired at collecting; the period of a low tide is about all men can endure. At first the rocks are bright and every moving animal makes his mark on the attention. The picture is wide and colored and beautiful. But after an hour and a half the attention centers weary, the color fades, and the field is likely to narrow to an individual animal. Here one may observe his own world narrowed down until interest and, with it, observation, flicker and go out. And what if with age this weariness becomes permanent and observation dim out and not recover? Can this be what happens to so many men of science? Enthusiasm, interest, sharpness, dulled with a weariness until finally they retire into easy didacticism? With this weariness, this stultification of attention centers, perhaps there comes the pained and sad memory of what the old excitement was like, and regret might turn to envy of the men who still have it. Then out of the shell of didacticism, such a used-up man might attack the unwearied, and he would have in his hands proper weapons of attack. It does seem certain that to a wearied man an error in a mass of correct data wipes out all the correctness and is a focus for attack; whereas the unwearied man, in his energy and receptivity, might consider the little dross of error a by-product of his effort. These two may balance and produce a purer thing than either in the end. These two may be the stresses which hold up the structure, but it is a sad thing to see the interest in interested men thin out and weaken and die. We have known so many professors who once carried their listeners high on their single enthusiasm, and have seen these same men finally settle back comfortably into lectures prepared years before and never vary them again. Perhaps this is the same narrowing we observe in relation to ourselves and the tide pool-a man looking at reality brings his own limitations to the world. If he has strength and energy of mind the tide pool stretches both ways, digs back to electrons and leaps space into the universe and fights out of the moment into non-conceptual time. Then ecology has a synonym which is ALL.

John Steinbeck
it-is-easy-to-grow-tired-at-collecting-period-low-tide-is-about-all-men-can-endure-at-first-rocks-are-bright-every-moving-animal-makes-his-mark-on-attention-the-picture-is-wide-c
After a few sips, he picked up his sax and started jamming with the storm. Most days, Rivers meditated twice, when he awoke and again in the evening before writing or reading. But he still found a special relaxation and renewal in solitary playing. Contemplation through music was different from other reflective experiences, in part, because his visual associations were set free to mutate, morph, and meander; while the other senses were occupied in fierce concentraction on breathing, blowing, fingering, and listening. Within the flow of this activity, his awareness would land in different states of consciousness, different phases of time, and easily moved between revisualization of experience and its creation. The playing dislodged hidden feelings, primed him for recognizing the habitually denied, sheathed the sword of lnaguage, and loosened the shield and armor of his character. His contemplative playing purged him of worrisome realities, smelted off from his center the dross of eperience, and on those rare and cherished days, left only the refinement of flickering fire. Although he was more aware of his emotions, the music and dance of thought kept them at arm's length, Wordsworth's 'emotion recollected in tranquility.'... As he played, his mind's eye became the fisher's bobber, guided by a line of sound around the driftwood of thought, the residue of his life, which materialized from nowhere and sank back into nothingness without his weaving them into any insistent pattern of order and understanding. He was momentarily freed of logical sequencing, the press of premises, the psycho-logic of primary process, the throb of Thought pulsing in and through him, and in billions of mind/bodies, now and throughout time, belonging each to each, to none, to no one, to Everyone, rocking back and forward in an ebb and flow of wishes, fears, and goals. He fished free of desire, illusion, or multiplicity; distant from the hook, the fisher, the fish; but tethered still on the long line of music, until it snagged on an immovable object, some unquestioned assumption, or perhaps a stray consummation, a catch in the flow of creation and wonder.

Jay Richards
after-few-sips-he-picked-up-his-sax-started-jamming-with-storm-most-days-rivers-meditated-twice-when-he-awoke-again-in-evening-before-writing-reading-but-he-still-found-special-r
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