Fire In Her Soul Quotes & Sayings

May the wind carry her spirit gently May the Fire release her soul, May the Water cleanse her, may the Earth receive her, May the Goddess take her in her arms and guide her to rebirth. — Starhawk

The seamstress
With fingers weary and worn,
And eyelids heavy and red,
Long after the house sleeps,
Still in her chair she sits.
Her needle flickering, in-out,
Daylight nears and the fire burns low,
Alone with her shirt, still she sews.
She, held prisoner by her thread,
Her heads nods, but sleep forbids,
Just one more seam or button two.
Listen brothers, sons and husbands all,
Call it not just cotton, linen or only wool,
Count each stitch and say a prayer,
For heart and soul that put them there. — Nancy B. Brewer

Fire burned in her heart, and her wounded soul spread out, casting a shadow like wings across her country. — Kiersten White

I was sucked in by the blackness of her eyes. I was pulled under as she sank mercifully deep. I imagined her whole body playing inside mine, writhing up and down as I was filled and emptied. My deepest fire ignited then raged and finally exploded. My eyes were open when it happened. Nikki thundered down on me and rocked me in her arms until I stopped shaking. There was nothing more to save and nothing more to give. That sacred part of my soul was now and forever hers. — Giselle Fox

Whenever Beauty looks,
Love is also there;
Whenever beauty shows a rosy cheek
Love lights Her fire from that flame.
When beauty dwells in the dark folds of night
Love comes and finds a heart
entangled in tresses.
Beauty and Love are as body and soul.
Beauty is the mine, Love is the diamond. — Rumi

Ugly and futile: lean neck and thick hair and a stain of ink, a snail's bed. Yet someone had loved him, borne him in her arms and in her heart. But for her the race of the world would have trampled him underfoot, a squashed boneless snail. She had loved his weak watery blood drained from her own. Was that then real? The only true thing in life? His mother's prostrate body the fiery Columbanus in holy zeal bestrode. She was no more: the trembling skeleton of a twig burnt in the fire, an odour of rosewood and wetted ashes. She had saved him from being trampled underfoot and had gone, scarcely having been. A poor soul gone to heaven: and on a heath beneath winking stars a fox, red reek of rapine in his fur, with merciless bright eyes scraped in the earth, listened, scraped up the earth, listened, scraped and scraped. — James Joyce

She broke the seal to find the flowing, masculine script that had come to mean the world to her.
Courage, my love. I need you to possess the same fire that led you from Scotland to Normandy that first day when we met. Whatever the day brings, know that I will always love you. You carry with you, my heart, my soul, my very being. Be strong for me, Kenna.
Ever your knight,
S
Postscriptum
S doesn't stand for Stryder.
She laughed at that, even though her eyes were filled with tears.
-Simon in a letter to Kenna — Kinley MacGregor

When a women speaks her truth, fires up her intention and feeling, stays tight with the instinctive nature, she is singing, she is living in the wild breath-stream of the soul. — Clarissa Pinkola Estes

I tried to breathe, failing. I clutched her to me, tears slipping from under my closed eyes. It was as if her soul was liquid fire and I could feel her aura, swirling about mine. She was taking my aura. But I wanted to give it to her, to cat her in a small part of me and protect her. Her needs made her so fragile. — Kim Harrison

Well, are you ready, Lada Dragwlya, daughter of the dragon?" Fire burned in her heart, and her wounded soul spread out, casting a shadow like wings across her country. This was hers. Not because of her father. Not because of Mehmed. Because the land itself had claimed her as its own. "Not Dragwlya," she said. "Lada Dracul. I am no longer the daughter of the dragon." She lifted her chin, sights set on the horizon. "I am the dragon. — Kiersten White

He was dangerous - she felt it down in her very soul. The price of this young man's freedom would be forged from pain, death, and fire. "Yes," she said. The single word sealed her fate. Standing there on the steep Limerian cliffs, she was ready to watch the world burn. — Morgan Rhodes

Leila dreamt that her Soul was on fire. It was not a nightmare. Shannon was in the dream. Shannon was telling her to wake up. She woke up, burning as if she had a fever, nearly soaking wet with sweat. Kevin was asleep beside her. — H. Raven Rose

The man that takes her in unholy embrace will have his privates blasted like a frostbitten apple," he said, with relish, "and his soul will burn forever in hell." He bared his teeth at his grandfather, and drew back his hand. "Like this." The beechwood teeth landed in the midst of the fire with a plop, and at once began to sizzle. — Diana Gabaldon

When were were cast out of Paradise, we lost part of our soul forever. As part of our punishment, we were cursed never to learn to love again. Instead, we were bound to a destiny that was set from the beginning. Azrael and I never chose each other; the choice was made for us. We never knew anything else.
The ring you hold is part of my soul that your mother helped me recover. It was she who saved us from the Dark and led us back to the Light. As her daughter, you too are an Angel of Light. The fire does not harm you. I lost the ring during the crisis in Rome. But now it has been returned to me.
This ring has been blessed by Gabrielle herself.
I have never given this ring, my soul, to anyone. Azrael has never had any part in this.
This is the only part of myself that is truly mine, and now it is yours. — Melissa De La Cruz

But this...her...she's more than warmth. She's fire, a soul, a name. Mei Yee reverbs through my head, my veins. Lodges like shrapnel in the far reaches of my chest. More powerful than a pound of C-4. Uncontrollable. — Ryan Graudin

She was dark-haired, fierce; she wore two drop earrings made of crystal; her face was a pure oval tickled with dimples; her skin was golden; and her laugh was like a fire in the night. But on her face you could also read the concentration of a soul whose life is entirely inward, and a mischievous gravity which acquires a silver patina with age. — Muriel Barbery

It is that holy poetry and singing we are after ... It is the wild singing we are after, our chance to use the wild language we are learning by heart under the sea. When a woman speaks her truth, fires up her intention and feeling, staying tight with the instinctive nature, she is singing, she is living in the wild breath-stream of the soul. To live this way is a cycle in itself, one meant to go on, go on, go on. — Clarissa Pinkola Estes

Outside, as she passed the kitchen window, she watched her breath appear before her in the lamplight and then it died away in moist clouds. This was the smoke of her internal fire and her soul. Every breath was a letter to the world. These she mailed into the cold air leaning back with pursed lips to send it upward. — Paulette Jiles

As the wind howled on, and the sea leaped, and the ship groaned and dived, and yet steadfastedly shot her red hell further and further into the blackness of the sea and the night, and scornfully champed the white bone in her mouth, and viciously spat round her on all sides; then the rushing Pequod, freighted with savages, and laden with fire, and burning a corpse, and plunging into that blackness of darkness seemed the material counterpart of her monomaniac commander's soul. — Herman Melville

But she still burns. she is on fire with need. burning that goes deeper than her skin, etched deeply, maybe in her soul, and there seems to be nothing for it, no balm, save inching her arms up to hold herself and wishin the arms weren't her own. — Mary E. Pearson

In some ways. it began when I heard her singing. Her voice twinning, mixing with my own. Her voice was like a portrait of her soul; wild as a fire, sharp as shattered glass, sweet and clean as clover — Patrick Rothfuss

It's like she has some sort of captivating fire in her eyes. Sometimes she'll look at me and I feel like she's staring into my soul, reading everything I'm trying to keep hidden. — Kiki Archer

While I watched her cook, I suddenly realized it was her art. The pan was her canvas, the ingredients her paint. She cooked with fire in her eyes, with passion in her soul, with love in her heart. — L.J. Shen

Her soft soul had crystallized. (Just as well, she thought.) She was a sword tempered in the fire. — Kate Atkinson

A mess of beautiful contradictions make her whole, she wears fire for skin but a storm lives in her soul. — Nikita Gill

Women find that as they vanquish the predator, taking from it what is useful and leaving the rest, they are filled with intensity, vitality, and drive.
The predator's rage can be rendered into a soul-fire for accomplishing a great task in the world. The predator's craftiness can be used to inspect and understand things from a distance. The predator's killing nature can be used to kill off that must properly die in a woman's life,or what she must die to in her outer life, these being different things at different times. Usually, she knows exactly what they are. — Clarissa Pinkola Estes

Nature, through all her works, in great degree,
Borrows a blessing from variety.
Music itself her needful aid requires
To rouse the soul, and wake our dying fires. — Charles Churchill

So seemed it to me, as I stood at her helm, and for long hours silently guided the way of this fire-ship on the sea. Wrapped, for that interval, in darkness myself, I but the better saw the redness, the madness, the ghastliness of others. The continual sight of the fiend shapes before me, capering half in smoke and half in fire, these at last begat kindred visions in my soul, so soon as I began to yield to that unaccountable drowsiness which ever would come over me at a midnight helm. — Herman Melville

A working woman, rising before dawn to spin and needing light in her cottage room, piles brushwood on a smoldering log, and the whole heap kindled by the little brand goes up in a mighty blaze. Such was the fire of Love, stealthy but all-consuming, that swept through Medea's heart. In the turmoil of her soul, her soft cheeks turned from rose to white and white to rose. — Apollonius Of Rhodes

He wanted one night with her when he did not have to be on his guard waiting for the Douglases to discover that she was English and a lass; one night when he could sit and talk with her by the fire without another soul in sight; one night when when he did not need to pretend he did not want her. — Margaret Mallory

Mom has a massive sunflower for a soul so big there's hardly any room in her for organs. Jude and me have one soul between us that we have to share: a tree with its leaves on fire. And Dad has a plate of maggots for his. — Jandy Nelson