Ash Tree Quotes & Sayings

For it's home, dearie, home
it's home I want to be.
Our topsails are hoisted, and we'll away to sea.
O, the oak and the ash and the bonnie birken tree
They're all growing green in the old countrie. — William Ernest Henley

in spite of the cold, this ash tree does not shy
from shrugging off its coat, sloping its nude
shoulders to the night. So, you said, undo,
unbutton, unclasp, slowly remove. Let down your
hair, breathe out. Stand stark in this room until
we remember how not to feel the chill. — Ruby Robinson

She'd lost so much in the process of becoming Zyne, but somewhere in the middle of it all, she'd found herself. Her heritage had shattered her illusions of a tranquil life. Destiny swept behind in a blaze, decimating everything she tried to hold on to. She was left alone, like the solitary tree standing after a forest fire. She'd thought she would crumble to ash, just another memory on the wind. But as blackened pieces of her cracked and fell away, she saw the truth. Under all that charred wreckage was the heartwood. Bruised. Scarred. But still good. Still capable of growth. When she looked in the mirror, she no longer saw a victim, but a survivor. — Gwen Mitchell

What did you do?" Kate asked.
"Nothing. We're inside the wards." Simon laughed and drank the elixir.
She looked around with surprise. "How can you tell? At night? In the snow?"
"That tree." He indicated an ash tree standing amidst other ash trees.
"It looks like a thousand other trees."
"No, it looks like you." Simon took a shallow, pained breath, but smiled. "It's my marker."
Both Kate and Malcolm stared at the tree. Kate cocked her hip. "It looks like me? A tree? That's flattering."
"Yes. See how the curves
" Simon worked his hands in an hourglass shape. "It looks like you. — Clay Griffith

When the clocks of midnight squander a generous time, I will go further than Ulysses' oarsmen to the realm of dreams, inaccessible to human nature. From that underwater region, I rescue fragments that I do not begin to understand. — Jorge Luis Borges

Of jackets that had their sleeves threaded onto two poles cut from an ash tree — Bernard Cornwell

He realised, more vividly than ever before, that art had two constant, two unending preoccupations: it is always meditating upon death and it is always thereby creating life. — Boris Pasternak

So, what's the big emergency, princess? You and ice-boy look fine to me, and the Nevernever isn't crumbling around us. What's going on?"
"I'm pregnant, Puck," I said quietly, and watched his eyebrows shoot into his hair. Briefly,I explained what had happened at Elysium, the oracle's mysterious appearance and invitation, and Grimalkin's instruction to meet him at the Wishing Tree. By the time I was done, Puck was still staring at me openmouthed, struck mute for maybe the second time in his life, and I would've laughed if the situation wasn't so serious.
"Oh," he finally managed. "That's, uh ... Wow. That's not something you hear every day. Not exactly what I was expecting, though the entire prophecy thing does get old after a while." He shook himself, seeming to regain his composure, and glanced at Ash. "So, it's the ever so popular Firstborn Child of Doom prophecy, huh, ice-boy? How very cliche. Why can't it be the third nephew twice removed who's fated to destroy the world? — Julie Kagawa

The man's mouth fell open in shock and hurt. He slowly shook his head. "So the stories are true. You really are a brat! You smug bastard. You need someone to throw you over a knee --!"
"How dare you!" Mycaela snarled. He lifted his hand to strike the man and couldn't believe it when the juggler caught his wrist, holding it aloft. They glared at each other, and Mycaela felt small, like a twig caught in the branches of a tree. But now he was forced to really look at the juggler, whose brown muscular chest was in his face, and he grew distracted. The man was wearing nothing except a pair of very colorful, very tight leggings. They clung to his bulge and his buttocks, and he was built like a stallion, lean and taunt and powerful. Mycaela bit his lip, willing himself not to awaken and silently cursing himself for smoking a drug that was sometimes used as an aphrodisiac. — Ash Gray

In Paul Friedrich's book Proto-Indo-European Trees he identifies the "semantic primitives" of the Indo-European tribe of languages through a group of words that have not changed much through twelve thousand years - and those are tree names: especially birch, willow, adler, elm, ash, apple and beech (bher, wyt, alysos, ulmo, os, abul, bhago). Seed syllables, bija, of the life of the west. — Gary Snyder

Humility makes one teachable;
gentleness makes one peaceable. — Matshona Dhliwayo

Cal says that humans are made from the nuclear ash of dead stars. He says that when I die, I'll return to dust, glitter,rain. If thats true, I want to be buried right here under this tree. Its roots will reach into the soft mess of my body and suck me dry. I'll be re-formed as apple blossom. I'll drift down in the spring like confetti and cling to my family's shoes. They'll carry me in their pockets to help them sleep. What dreams will they have then? — Jenny Downham

If one really believes that the metaphysic one adopts has much to commend it, then one should obviously try to persuade others of its truth or acceptability! — Alison Assiter

I promise you. I promise you the stars. I promise you the lake and falls, coywolves and robins. I promise earth and heaven: I will love you long after the last human has taken his last breath. When the stars burn out and the oceans freeze over and the whole world is ash and dust and ice, our names will still be carved into this tree of life, side by side, and I'll still be loving you. — Emily Henry

[I]n order to raise a soul to the highest perfection, He allows it to pass through dryness, brambles, and combats, causing it thereby to honor the times of weariness in the life of His Son, Our Lord, who suffered various kinds of anguish and abandonment. — Vincent De Paul

She couldn't tell how long she'd been searching for her daughter.
It was dusk, but it had seemed darker as she ran through the wood, tripping on hooked tree roots, her feet crunching through crisp, curled ash leaves. — Sanjida Kay

This stretch through the fogbound forest gradually lulled Grange into his favorite daydream; in it he saw an image of his life: all that he had he carried with him; twenty feet away, the world grew dark, perspectives blurred, and there was nothing near him but this close halo of warm consciousness, this nest perched high above the vague earth. — Julien Gracq

I waited for the Earth to stop spinning, for the rift to open and swallow us. Yet the ash tree remained framed in the window, refused to fall. Rain streaked the glass. Blood throbbed in my ears. Preternatural silence. The cruellest April.
I was not deceived. What I saw was samsara, illusion. The world had ended. I was sure of it. — John Dolan

Tree

I dreamt you invisible majesty
hovering above the face of all things.
Rooted in the pain of ash,
mere man, I bore you, sepulchre,
dead father, silently, within,
called out to you the windswept words
of lost millennia, words that kindle rage.
You never answered me. You left me
fearing night, hidden fire, leaping flame,
tree God in the night. — Salvador Espriu

You can pick your friends. You can pick your nose ... but you can't pick your friends' noses.
Well, I didn't get to pick my parents.
I am glad that I have them, though.
I just wish that I wouldn't have to spend the rest of my life picking one of them and not the other. - Amber Brown — Paula Danziger

Masters of one art have mastered all because they have mastered themselves. With dominion over both mind and muscle, they demonstrate power, serenity, and spirit. They not only have talent for their sport, they have an expanded capacity for life. The experts shine in the competitive arena; the masters shine everywhere. — Dan Millman

The merriment of everything from foot-high weeds to hundred-foot oaks, rustling in the wind - grave chuckling of maples and alders, titters from groves of sapling sassafras, silly giggling in the raspberry bushes, a huge belly laugh from the oldest hollow ash tree before the freeway interchange. — Diane Duane

They lit candles on the table, all while the apple tree shook and blossoms continued to fall. When the petals hit the flames of the candles, they hissed and popped into ash, leaving behind a scent that was so beautiful and sweet that it smelled like both yesterday and tomorrow. — Sarah Addison Allen

I think the country is very settled in a lot of ways, and we saw that after the Democratic Convention. I think a lot of the bump that we enjoyed came when John Kerry selected John Edwards as his running mate. — Harold Ford Jr.

We two remake our world by naming it / Together, knowing what words mean for us / And for the other for whom current coin / Is cold speech
but we say, the tree, the pool, / And see the fire in the air, the sun, our sun, / Anybody's sun, the world's sun, but here, now / Particularly our sun ... — A.S. Byatt

I looked over at the others. "Anyone have tree-climbing issues?"
Obviously Ash and I didn't. Daniel, Hayley, and Corey said they'd be fine. Chloe hoped she would - she had gymnastics training. Mr. Bae joked that it would be his first time in a couple of decades. Derek said nothing.
"Derek?"
"It looks like I'll be the guy doing the distracting. I'm not trusting a tree branch to hold me."
"You're not playing decoy," Chloe said. She turned to us. "I'm sorry. I know that sounds like a cop-out, but he really can't. The last time we were in a fight against the St. Clouds, the orders were to tranq all of us except Derek. For him, it was shoot to kill. They don't trust werewolves."
"I think they've calmed down," Derek said. "They've been watching us for months and haven't tried to assassinate me yet."
Chloe put her hands on her hips. "And that's your definition of acceptance? Not going out of their way to kill you?" — Kelley Armstrong

The creature had nut-brown skin mixed with patches of ash. It was human-sized and formed, but its skin looked like the bark of an old, old tree. About the same height as Donna, it was spindly with arms and legs that were all joints and angles. Its face was narrow and pointed, with hair on top of its head like thick moss and narrow black eyes that glinted even in the dim light of the room. The thing's body was clothed in lichen and moss, with vines twining around its sharp limbs. The creature opened its lipless mouth, a dark slash across its twisted face.

Donna's mind flashed back to the party and the shadow she'd seen sliding through the darkness outside Xan's house. She hadn't been imagining things, after all.

The wood elves had returned to the city. — Karen Mahoney

After all, it's all kinds of things that make up a life, right? The big, like falling in love and spending time with your family, and the little ... like blow drying your hair, applying concealer, and cursing those magazine inserts. It all counts. It has to. — Sarah Dessen

This was a beautiful, old wood, all massive oak and ash trees finding footing among great slabs of cracked stone. Ferns sprang from rocks and verdant moss grew up the sides of the tree trunks. The air itself was scented with green and growing and water. The light was golden through the leaves. Everything was alive, alive. — Maggie Stiefvater

I hope he doesn't expect us to make a wish on the thing," I continued, as Ash scanned the surroundings, wary and alert as always. "I've learned my lesson, thanks. I'd rather go to tea with Mab than make a wish on something called the Wishing Tree in the middle of the Nevernever."
"You have no idea how relieved I am to finally hear you say that." Ash was still gazing around the clearing, looking solemn apart from the grin in his voice. — Julie Kagawa

Y is for YGGDRASIL. The legendary Nordic ash tree with its three roots extending into the lands of mortals, giants, and Niflheim, the land of mist, grows in Wisconsin. Legend has it that when the tree falls, the universe will fall. Next Wednesday, the State Highway Commission comes through that empty pasture with a freeway. — Harlan Ellison

You know that I don't believe that anyone has ever taught anything to anyone. I question that efficacy of teaching. The only thing that I know is that anyone who wants to learn will learn. And maybe a teacher is a facilitator, a person who puts things down and shows people how exciting and wonderful it is and asks them to eat. — Carl R. Rogers

You, my friend, could be the smoke's daughter,
you who may not have known you were born of fire and rage,
lightning over flaming lava etched your violet mouth,
your sex in the scorched oak's moss like a ring in a nest,
your fingers there in the flames, your compact body
rose from leaves of fire that make me recall
there were bakers in your family tree,
you're still the rainforest's bread, ash from violent wheat, — Pablo Neruda

A child's fingernails should never be cut in the first year. The mother must bite them off or he'll become a thief. But when they are first cut at a year old, they must be buried under an ash tree so that witches can't take them and cause the child harm. Lincoln — Karen Maitland

From the colour the nature And by the nature the sign! Beatific spirits welding together As in one ash-tree in Ygdrasail. — Ezra Pound

My natural hair is short and naturally grows to frame my face. So that's my favorite. I also like tree-braids. They're easy, fast, there's not much pulling on your hair, and they are very lightweight. — Erica Ash

Rigg pressed her back against a tree and closed her eyes, wishing she could have died in a less humiliating way. She supposed it could have been worse: the frog could have been a cute mechanical bunny. — Ash Gray

We can't in any way criticize or at least indict or impeach administration [of Democratic presidents] for doing what they did. — Barack Obama

She grew up in the ordinary paradise of the English countryside. When she was five she walked to school, two miles, across meadows covered with cowslips, buttercups, daisies, vetch, rimmed by hedges full of blossom and then berries, blackthorn, hawthorn, dog-roses, the odd ash tree with its sooty buds. — A.S. Byatt