Fire Quotes

Oh, this time I was doing the gossiping. You should really dismiss me for disloyalty, not to mention the disrespect I'm showing right now by talking to you like this.

Jayne Bauling

The hero was the sort of character you could feel yourself falling in love with, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself that he wasn't real

Heather James

He blew himself up.”“Get out! You mean like guts all over the place?”“Not all over the place,” I said. “He was pretty well contained, all things considered.

Janet Evanovich

I loved him, more than anything else in the world and that when he was away it was hard to breath and that I couldn't go through a single second without thinking about him.

Heather James

He could never care about you. He sees you in the same way they see all of us: ruthless, cruel and power hungry." He laughed callously. "I guess we're about to prove them right.

Heather James

Am like a Fire Fly, Charged to Execute my Flames to Light this World up, therefore, you have to Kill me to get out my Flame.

Ryan Leonard

We think the fire eats the wood. We are wrong. The wood reaches out to the flame. The fire licks at what the wood harbors, and the wood gives itself away to that intimacy, the manner in which we and the world meet each new day.

Jack Gilbert

You are the earth, my dear grandson, and just like it takes everything without complaining, so have you shown us today that you will take everything in kind, and there's no greater title than this.

Dora Okeyo

Bast looked at him incredulously."The whole world is burning down,"he said."Open your eyes.

Patrick Rothfuss

When I was commissioning a brand new solar photovoltaic utility site, I came across metal tubes installed into the fuseholders that were marked up as 100 amp fuses on the diagram. Needless to say, it had already gone on fire.

Steven Magee

From the darkness we become stars, we behold the misery and mystery from the worlds we possess and build up fire from the glow and coils of our black souls, the Sun.

Goitsemang Mvula

RYLAN!"I feel Ivy's palm on my chest and, with a powerful shove, she pushes me back, away from fire, danger, and death. In that moment after the tree plunges, I see Ivy for a single second as I fall. In those emerald eyes is a look of complete calm, undying gratitude, and powerful, protective love.The tree crashes down, the sound echoing in my head.For an eternal moment, I sit there on my butt, staring at the spot where Ivy was standing. I'm numb, only registering the slightest changes; the wind dying down, the rain lessening.What just happened?Desperately, I look side to side, praying that Ivy jumped to the side and what I saw was just an illusion made up by my panicked mind.But Ivy's nowhere. And there's an arm sticking out from under the trunk."IVY!"I sprint to the fallen tree. The smoldering wood stings my hand when I grab the trunk, but I grit my teeth and bear it. Pulling with all my might, I throw the remains of the tree aside.Ivy's lying there, her eyes closed and her lower half on fire."No..." I fall to my knees and yank off my sweatshirt to try and smother the flames, but they burn strong, and soon the fabric's on fire. I toss it away, not knowing where it lands as I'm unable to tear my eyes off the most gut-wrenching sight of my life. My hands go to my head and my shouting grows even louder. "No, no, no!"This can't be happening. She can't be—

Colleen Boyd

Civilization did not come with fire. It came with the discovery of how to use fire to heat water.

Laura Anne Gilman

Pressure knocks at my doorA clock ticks and demands its dueThe lava burns from the floorBut not in a game like it used to.So little time to figure it all outSo many distractions to prevent successI’m in a dark forest with no path or routeBut this internal fire knows no rest.

Justin Wetch

Damage report, sir?” Skotchdopole asked, climbing off his console into his seat.“To hell with that!” he roared, this was no accidental side-effect of arriving – it was clear they were under attack by hostile aliens. “Fire! Shoot the crap outta them!

Christina Engela

We all live in a house on fire, no fire department to call; no way out, just the upstairs window to look out of while the fire burns the house down with us trapped, locked in it.

Tennessee Williams

Curiosity is a strong fire, and once ignited, it is not easily put out.

Susan Dennard

I tried to hold fire once...see from a distance it mesmerized me captivated me for hours at a timeThe more it danced with the wind, I felt my body sway to its rhythm I tried to hold fire onceIt's glow drew me in closerAnd although I know full well the damage that fire can do...Staring directly at it, I know it's beauty tooIt's warmth was now on my face and I couldn't imagine being in any other placeI reached out with my bare hands & it danced even moreAnd suddenly I felt it's heat deep within my coreRising like a volcano ready to eruptBut somehow balanced & purposefulI tried to hold fire once until I realized that fire held me Passionately and I was it's guiding force. If you look close enough, you'll see it dancing in my eyes, feel it in my touch, even hear it in my voice...but don't ever forget that fire consumes and cannot be contained so I must master my energetic output to control the flames.

Sanjo Jendayi

I couldn't be certain whether their eagerness to leave was fueled by their desire to see more fire or to get away from my mother. I wouldn't have blamed them at all if it was the latter - most people went to great lengths to avoid her on a regular basis, myself and my father included.

Heather James

Surrender is no guarantee that an armed police officer will not shoot you.

Steven Magee

You will know you are in love when it doesn't matter if you sit in heaven or hell with that special someone just as long as they can make you laugh, while you put out the fires.

Shannon L. Alder

Any religion which uses the words such as hell, fire, curse, burning, amputating can never be a religion of love because a religion of love must only use the language of love, must only use only the sweet words of affection, not the words of darkness and torture!

Mehmet Murat ildan

For the gaming fishermen there was the Whatoosie River and its native cocka-snoek, the main game fish of the resident Skegg’s Valley Dynamite Fishing Club. Cocka-snoek were wily and tough and rather too bright for mere fish. You wouldn’t catch much with a rod around here. Many inexperienced visitors would find the bait stolen from their hooks, which punctuated the discovery that their lines had somehow got snagged and tangled irretrievably around some underwater obstruction – sometimes tied together with neat little bows. Often, several direct hits with hand grenades were needed to stun the creatures long enough just to catch them, gut them and fry them, but these former military types had become experts at it. For a modest fee, tours could be arranged via the booking office, which included an overnight stay on the banks of the river where one could drop off to a great night’s sleep after a satisfying meal of cocka-snoek done on an open fire, and the sound the bits of shrapnel made rattling in your stomach.

Christina Engela

You are strong, tempered like steel in the fire and by the blows of the hammer of life. Nothing will break you again, only make you stronger and more whole. Perfection is the pride of those who have not lived, who know not these things in their arrogance. They remain the same - raw and without form. The hammer never touches them, and they lie on the shelf, gathering dust, slowly tarnishing and fading and crumbling. the blows of the hammer in the fire refine us into bright shining glory for the roles we play in life - until we are one with the anvil, becoming immune to the hammer's little knocks, and smile at it.

Christina Engela

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 leaves to make their nests, etc. Upon all these, the tree is still tree!

Israelmore Ayivor

Yeah, let’s get John here. That way we can stall for a while longer. We can keep on doing nothing for just a little while longer.”Albert said, “Take it easy, Howard.”“Take it easy?” Howard jumped to his feet. “Yeah? Where were you last night, Albert? Huh? Because I didn’t see you out there on the street listening to kids screaming, seeing kids running around hurt and scared and choking, and Edilio and Orc struggling, and Dekka hacking up her lungs and Jack crying and…“You know who couldn’t even take it?” Howard raged. “You know who couldn’t even take what was happening? Orc. Orc, who’s not scared of anything. Orc, who everyone thinks is some kind of monster. He couldn’t take it. He couldn’t…but he did. And where were you, Albert? Counting your money? How about you, Astrid? Praying to Jesus?”Astrid’s throat tightened. She couldn’t breathe. For a moment panic threatened to overwhelm her. She wanted to run from the room, run away and never look back.Edilio got to his feet and put an arm around Howard. Howard allowed it, and then he did something Astrid never thought she would see. Howard buried his face in Edilio’s shoulder and cried, racking sobs.“We’re falling apart,” Astrid whispered for herself alone.But there was no easy escape. Everything Howard had said was true. She could see the truth reflected in Albert’s stunned expression. The two of them, the smart ones, the clever ones, the great defenders of truth and fairness and justice, had done nothing while others had worked themselves to exhaustion.

Michael Grant

As it so happens, I like your mouth.""It doesn't -- ""Challenge me?" He set the bottle down and moved to the end of the bed. "An outspoken woman makes the world a livable place. You have fire in you, and I would never put that out.

Dannika Dark

Science has never killed or persecuted a single person for doubting or denying its teaching, and most of these teaching have been true; but religion has murdered millions for doubting or denying her dogmas and most of these dogmas have been false.All stories about gods and devils, of heavens and hells, as they do not conform to nature, and are not apparent to sense, should be rejected without consideration. Beyond the universe there is nothing and within the universe the supernatural does not and cannot exist.Of all deceivers who have plagued mankind, none are so deeply ruinous to human happiness as those imposters who pretend to lead by a light above nature.The lips of the dead are closed forever. There comes no voice from the tomb. Christianity is responsible for having cast the fable of eternal fire over almost every grave.

Gratis P. Spencer

An open flask of industrial liquid gas that is venting into the indoor environment should be thought of as the same as a smoldering fire, as they both create a dangerous oxygen deficient environment for the human.

Steven Magee

You hide it well, but I can see it, Lord Verniers. You hate us. We have beaten you to obedience but it's still there, like dry tinder waiting for a spark.

Anthony Ryan

(This is from a tribute poem to Ronnie James Dio: Former lead vocalist of the band Rainbow, Black Sabbath. This is written with all the titles of the hit songs of DIO. The titles are all in upper case)You can “CATCH THE RAINBOW” –“A RAINBOW IN THE DARK”Through “ROCK & ROLL CHILDREN”“HOLY DIVER” will lurk“BEFORE THE FALL” of “ELECTRA”“ALL THE FOOLS SAILED AWAY”“JESUS,MARY AND THE HOLY GHOST”-“LORD OF THE LAST DAY”“MASTER OF THE MOON” you areWhen my “ONE FOOT IN THE GRAVE”With our “BLACK”, “COLD FEET”,“MYSTERY” of “PAIN” you craveYou’re “CAUGHT IN THE MIDDLE”,“BETWEEN TWO HEARTS”When “HUNGRY FOR HEAVEN”“HUNTER OF THE HEART” hurts“FALLEN ANGELS” “FEED MY HEART”“FEVER DREAMS” “FEED MY HEAD”“I AM” “ANOTHER LIE”“AFTER ALL (THE DEAD)”Not “GUILTY” if you “HIDE IN THE RAINBOW’’With your perfect “GUITAR SOLO”“DON’T TELL THE KIDS” to “DREAM EVIL”Don’t “GIVE HER THE GUN” to follow“DON’T TALK TO STRANGERS”Those “EVIL EYES” can see“LORD OF THE NIGHT” “MISTREATED”;“MY EYES” hate to fancy“SHAME ON THE NIGHT” “TURN UP THE NIGHT”Now it’s “TIME TO BURN”“TWISTED” “VOODOO” does “WALK ON WATER”And today its our turn“BLOOD FROM A STONE” “BORN ON THE SUN”I’m “BETTER IN THE DARK” “BREATHLESS”The “PRISONER OF PARADISE” you are!Forever you are deathless“SACRED HEART” “SHIVERS”Laying “NAKED IN THE RAIN”“THIS IS YOUR LIFE”- “ WILD ONE”!Your “GOLDEN RULES” we gain“IN DREAMS” “I SPEED AT NIGHT”I’m “LOSING MY INSANITY”“ANOTHER LIE”: “COMPUTER GOD”Your “HEAVEN AND HELL”- my vanity!By “KILLING THE DRAGON”“I COULD HAVE BEEN A DREAMER”I’m “THE LAST IN LINE” To “SCREAM”Like an “INVISIBLE” screamerNow that you are gone“THE END OF THE WORLD” is here“STRAIGHT THROUGH THE HEART”“PUSH” “JUST ANOTHER DAY” in fear“CHILDREN OF THE SEA” “ DYING IN AMERICA”Is it “DEATH BY LOVE”?“FACES IN THE WINDOW” looking forA “GYPSY” from aboveDear “STARGAZER” from “STRANGE HIGHWAYS”Our love “HERE’S TO YOU”“WE ROCK” “ONE MORE FOR THE ROAD”The “OTHER WORLD” anew“ONE NIGHT IN THE CITY” with “NEON KNIGHTS”“THE EYES” “STAY OUT OF MY MIND”The “STARSTRUCK” “SUNSET SUPERMAN”Is what we long to find“THE MAN WHO WOULD BE KING”Is the “INSTITUTIONAL MAN”“SHOOT SHOOT” to “TURN TO STONE”“WHEN A WOMAN CRIES” to planTo “STAND UP AND SHOUT”before “ THE KING OF ROCK AND ROLL”Though “GOD HATES HEAVY METAL”“EAT YOUR HEART OUT” to reach the goal.From the poem- Holy Dio: the Diver (A tribute to Ronnie James Dio)

Munia Khan

Assuming what people want is about as controlled as using fireworks to start a fire.

Criss Jami

LED lighting has its place: cold, detached, hollow places like office buildings, factories, fast food chains and public schools - places full of humans but no human emotions. LED lighting really belongs in the apathy of the digital age, where science and technology rules over friendship, love and freedom. Incandescent light bulbs have a warm yellow-orange glow like the glow of a nice fireplace, where friends and family might sit and talk together or where children might open Christmas presents, a glow that can project celluloid films and bring back old memories, a glow that can light the text of a paperback novel. Something that beautiful, with that much power, could never last very long in a time as depressing and uncertain as the 21st century.

Rebecca McNutt

To be inspired is great, but to inspire is an honor.

Stacey T. Hunt

When you are fired because of laziness, dare to fire back with the spirit of enthusiasm. Rise up at the same time and at the same place that you have fallen. You can’t give up!

Israelmore Ayivor

I am Cinna's bird, ignited, flying frantically to escape something inescapable. The feathers of flame that grow from my body. Beating my wings only fans the blaze. I consume myself, but to no end.Finally, my wings begin to falter, I lose height, and gravity pulls me into a foamy sea the color of Finnick's eyes. I float on my back, which continues to burn beneath the water, but the agony quiets to pain. When I am adrift and unable to navigate, that's when they come. The dead.The ones I loved fly as birds in the open sky above me. Soaring, weaving, calling to me to join them. I want so badly to follow them, but the seawater saturates my wings, making it impossible to lift them. The ones I hated have taken to the water, horrible scaled things that tear my salty flesh with needle teeth. Biting again and again. Dragging me beneath the surface.The small white bird tinged in pink dives down, buries her claws in my chest, and tries to keep me afloat."No, Katniss! No! You can't go!"But the ones I hated are winning, and if she clings to me, she'll be lost as well. "Prim, let go!" And finally she does.

Suzanne Collins

Wherever in the world a country is governed by spiritually ill, politically empty, ethically rotten and mentally stupid people, over there you can find nothing but chaos, tears and fire!

Mehmet Murat ildan

The day she realised, it was not about the world but was all about her, she grew the wings. The day she understood she was not answerable to any of them who always blamed and pointed her, she had the fire blazing in her eyes. She raised and soared towards the sky. The whole world looked at her in awe and wished if only they could be her. She was not confined to be on the ground anymore. She had the wings of fire and she left a trail everywhere she went, for other to follow.

Akshay Vasu

Regarding solar power systems, the bigger the system is, the more likely it may go on fire.

Steven Magee

Some women born to raise a beautiful families while some women are born to build an empire from ashes and rule the rest.

Pradeepa Pandiyan

All the carriages filed out in single file but in a fashion that seemed to mean that they were competing against each other. The only sound that could be heard for a while was the pounding of the horses’ hooves and the squeal and groan of the wheels against the road. Their hooves kicked up dirt, creating a storm of dust.tOnce the miniature storm and the sound of galloping horses subsided, I could only see one last person. He glared up at me and mouthed, “Next time.” Christopher dug his boots into Dawn’s muscled flank. She reared up and broke into a gallop through the sparse forest, heading for escape. The last trace of them was the particles of floating dust, bright like floating fire.

Erica Sehyun Song

In the end, you will not see the physical beauty in others that caught your eye, but the fire that burned within them. This kind of beauty is the bonfire you had to attend.

Shannon L. Alder

I knew that suffering can purify, that it's a kind of fire that can be worth enduring, but there were degrees of it to which I chose not to subject myself.

Dean Koontz

MOTHER IS WATERI wish I couldShower your head with flowersAnd anoint your feet with my tears,For I know I have caused youSo much heartache, frustration and despair –Throughout my youthful years.I wish I could give youThe remainder of my lifeTo add to yours,Or simply eraseThe lines on your face,And mend all that has been torn.For next to God,You are the fireThat has given lightTo the flame in each of my eyes.You are the fountainThat nourished my growth,And from your chalice –Gave me life.Without the wetness of your love,The fragrance of your water,Or the trickling sounds ofYour voice,I shall always feelthirsty.

Suzy Kassem

Astrid felt a towering wave of disgust. She was furious with Sam. Furious with Little Pete. Mad at the whole world around her. Sickened by everyone and everything.And mostly, she admitted, sick of herself.So desperately sick of being Astrid the Genius.“Some genius,” she muttered. The town council, headed by that blond girl, what was her name? Oh right: Astrid. Astrid the Genius. Head of the town council that had let half the town burn to the ground.Down in the basement of town hall Dahra Baidoo handed out scarce ibuprofen and expired Tylenol to kids with burns, like that would pretty much fix anything, as they waited for Lana to go one by one, healing with her touch.Astrid could hear the cries of pain. There were several floors between her and the makeshift hospital. Not enough floors.Edilio staggered in. He was barely recognizable. He was black with soot, dirty, dusty, with ragged scratches and scrapes and clothing hanging in shreds.“I think we got it,” he said, and lay straight down on the floor.Astrid knelt by his head. “You have it contained?”But Edilio was beyond answering. He was unconscious. Done in.Howard appeared next, in only slightly better shape. Some time during the night and morning he’d lost his smirk. He glanced at Edilio, nodded like it made perfect sense, and sank heavily into a chair.“I don’t know what you pay that boy, but it’s not enough,” Howard said, jerking his chin at Edilio.“He doesn’t do it for pay,” Astrid said.“Yeah, well, he’s the reason the whole town didn’t burn. Him and Dekka and Orc and Jack. And Ellen, it was her idea.

Michael Grant

There are times when the unseen can be even more dangerous than what our eyes behold.

Erin Forbes

Remind me that the most fertile lands were built by the fires of volcanoes.

Andrea Gibson

Learning to let go is not giving up! It is simply passing the burden to a better fighter, so you can fight another day. (God)

Shannon L. Alder

Art doesn’t give rise to anything in us that isn’t already there. It simply stirs our curious consciousness and sparks a fire that illuminates who we have always wanted to be.

Kamand Kojouri

You will never overcome your self righteousness if you continue to believe that God prefers you over other people. The moment you feel entitled is the moment you feel superior and distance yourself from a humble heart that believes God knows what he is doing.

Shannon L. Alder

The sea may catch fire, the planets may collide in space, the sun may quench off its heat, but what we understand is that our peace is like a river in our souls; it's surface may wave about in turbulence, but it's bottom is cool and gently calm!

Israelmore Ayivor

Those who live without a great fire in their soul live in darkness.

Michael R. Fletcher

In the forty minutes I watched the muskrat, he never saw me, smelled me, or heard me at all. When he was in full view of course I never moved except to breathe. My eyes would move, too, following his, but he never noticed. Only once, when he was feeding from the opposite bank about eight feet away did he suddenly rise upright, all alert- and then he immediately resumed foraging. But he never knew I was there.I never knew I was there, either. For that forty minutes last night I was as purely sensitive and mute as a photographic plate; I received impressions, but I did not print out captions. My own self-awareness had disappeared; it seems now almost as though, had I been wired to electrodes, my EEG would have been flat. I have done this sort of thing so often that I have lost self-consciousness about moving slowly and halting suddenly. And I have often noticed that even a few minutes of this self-forgetfulness is tremendously invigorating. I wonder if we do not waste most of our energy just by spending every waking minute saying hello to ourselves. Martin Buber quotes an old Hasid master who said, “When you walk across the field with your mind pure and holy, then from all the stones, and all growing things, and all animals, the sparks of their souls come out and cling to you, and then they are purified and become a holy fire in you.

Annie Dillard

It looked as though the leaves of the autumn forest had taken flight, and were pouring down the valley like a waterfall, like a tidal wave, all the leaves of the hardwoods from here to Hudson’s Bay. It was as if the season’s colors were draining away like lifeblood, as if the year were molting and shedding. The year was rolling down, and a vital curve had been reached, the tilt that gives way to headlong rush. And when the monarch butterflies had passed and were gone, the skies were vacant, the air poised. The dark night into which the year was plunging was not a sleep but an awakening, a new and necessary austerity, the sparer climate for which I longed. The shed trees were brittle and still, the creek light and cold, and my spirit holding its breath.

Annie Dillard

Those people who shoot endless time-lapse films of unfurling roses and tulips have the wrong idea. They should train their cameras instead on the melting of pack ice, the green filling of ponds, the tidal swings…They should film the glaciers of Greenland, some of which creak along at such a fast clip that even the dogs bark at them. They should film the invasion of the southernmost Canadian tundra by the northernmost spruce-fir forest, which is happening right now at the rate of a mile every 10 years. When the last ice sheet receded from the North American continent, the earth rebounded 10 feet. Wouldn’t that have been a sight to see?

Annie Dillard

Say you could view a time-lapse film of our planet: what would you see? Transparent images moving through light, “an infinite storm of beauty.”The beginning is swaddled in mists, blasted by random blinding flashes. Lava pours and cools; seas boil and flood. Clouds materialize and shift; now you can see the earth’s face through only random patches of clarity. The land shudders and splits, like pack ice rent by a widening lead. Mountains burst up, jutting and dull and soften before your eyes, clothed in forests like felt. The ice rolls up, grinding green land under water forever; the ice rolls back. Forests erupt and disappear like fairy rings. The ice rolls up-mountains are mowed into lakes, land rises wet from the sea like a surfacing whale- the ice rolls back.A blue-green streaks the highest ridges, a yellow-green spreads from the south like a wave up a strand. A red dye seems to leak from the north down the ridges and into the valleys, seeping south; a white follows the red, then yellow-green washes north, then red spreads again, then white, over and over, making patterns of color too swift and intricate to follow. Slow the film. You see dust storms, locusts, floods, in dizzying flash frames. Zero in on a well-watered shore and see smoke from fires drifting. Stone cities rise, spread, and then crumble, like patches of alpine blossoms that flourish for a day an inch above the permafrost, that iced earth no root can suck, and wither in a hour. New cities appear, and rivers sift silt onto their rooftops; more cities emerge and spread in lobes like lichen on rock. The great human figures of history, those intricate, spirited tissues that roamed the earth’s surface, are a wavering blur whose split second in the light was too brief an exposure to yield any images. The great herds of caribou pour into the valleys and trickle back, and pour, a brown fluid. Slow it down more, come closer still. A dot appears, like a flesh-flake. It swells like a balloon; it moves, circles, slows, and vanishes. This is your life.

Annie Dillard

Were the earth as smooth as a ball bearing, it might be beautiful seen from another planet, as the rings of Saturn are. But here we live and move; we wander up and down the banks of the creek, we ride a railway through the Alps, and the landscape shifts and changes. Were the earth smooth, our brains would be smooth as well; we would wake, blink, walk two steps to get the whole picture and lapse into dreamless sleep. Because we are living people, and because we are on the receiving end of beauty, another element necessarily enters the question. The texture of space is a condition of time. Time is the warp and matter the weft of woven texture of beauty in space, and death is the hurtling shuttle…tWhat I want to do, then, is add time to the texture, paint the landscape on an unrolling scroll, and set the giant relief globe spinning on it stand.

Annie Dillard

Our life is a faint tracing on the surface of mystery. The surface of mystery is not smooth, any more than the planet is smooth; not even a single hydrogen atom is smooth, let alone a pine. Nor does it fit together; not even the chlorophyll and hemoglobin molecules are a perfect match, for, even after the atom of iron replaces the magnesium, long streamers of disparate atoms trail disjointedly from the rims of the molecule’s loops. Freedom cuts both ways. Mystery itself is as fringed and intricate at the shape of the air at times. Forays into mystery cut bays and fine fjords, but the forested mainland itself is implacable both in its bulk and in its most filigreed fringe of detail.

Annie Dillard

A kind of northing is what I wish to accomplish, a single-minded trek towards that place where any shutter left open to the zenith at night will record the wheeling of all the sky’s stars as a pattern of perfect, concentric circles. I seek a reduction, a shedding, a sloughing off.tAt the seashore you often see a shell, or fragment of a shell, that sharp sands and surf have thinned to a wisp. There is no way you can tell what kind of shell it had been, what creature it had housed; it could have been a whelk or a scallop, a cowrie, limpet, or conch. The animal is long since dissolved, and its blood spread and thinned in the general sea. All you hold in your hand is a cool shred of shell, an inch long, pared so thin that it passes a faint pink light. It is an essence, a smooth condensation of the air, a curve. I long for the North where unimpeded winds would hone me to such a pure slip of bone. But I’ll not go northing this year. I’ll stalk that floating pole and frigid air by waiting here. I wait on bridges; I wait, struck, on forest paths and meadow’s fringes, hilltops and banksides, day in and day out, and I receive a southing as a gift. The North washes down the mountains like a waterfall, like a tidal wave, and pours across the valley; it comes to me. It sweetens the persimmons and numbs the last of the crickets and hornets; it fans the flames of the forest maples, bows the meadow’s seeded grasses and pokes it chilling fingers under the leaf litter, thrusting the springtails and the earthworms deeper into the earth. The sun heaves to the south by day, and at night wild Orion emerges looming like the Specter over Dead Man Mountain. Something is already here, and more is coming.

Annie Dillard

How I wish I was like the water,Flowing so freely with every dropLet my every emotion wonder,No need to start, nor even stopHow I wish I was like the fire,Burning with every flame upLeaving a trace of hot desireAs a Phoenix raises its' wings upHow I wish I was like the earth,Raising each flower from the groundSeeing the beauty of death and birthAnd then returning to the groundHow I wish I was like the wind,Hearing each whisper, sound and thoughtA lonesome and wandering little wind,Shattering all that has been soughtOh, how I wish I was where you are,Not separated by empty space, so farIt seems like we're galaxies apart,But we find hope within our heartAnd how I wish I was all of the above,So I can come below and yet forget,The beauty of angels which come down like a doveAnd demons who love with no regret.

Virgil Kalyana Mittata Iordache

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