Fire Spinning Quotes & Sayings

A growing heat, like a million blazing suns all focused on me, lit my insides. It felt like I was being cooked in the Gabriella Roast Cooker, me spinning around-and-around to heat my flesh evenly. For some reason I was having trouble comprehending the sudden change in my revolving world as I swelled with a horrible, billowing fire. — Laura Kreitzer

He hung up and stood there, his mind spinning. Uncle Benny's words whispered in his head. We'll do what we always do. What they always did. Fight fires. Save people's lives. Yes, that's what they'd do now. The FDNY was the biggest fire department in the world. They were the best. And they would do what they always did. — Lauren Tarshis

I felt drunk - on love, on lust. Utterly inebriated by this ludicrous feeling of distorted perfection that was setting off fireworks within my body. Was this insatiable need to be joined as one - not only physically, but emotionally - a mere symptom of infatuation, of teenage lust? Or was it love, this fire burning in my veins, spinning me out of control until I felt so off balance I knew I'd never again be able to stand on my own? — Julie Johnson

The poets say some moths will do anything out of love for a flame
[ ... ]
The moth takes off again, and we both step back, because he's circling at eye level now and seems to have lost rudder control, smacking into the wall on each round. He circles lower and lower, spinning around the candle in tighter revolutions, like a soap sud over an open drain. A few times he seems to touch the flame, but dances off unhurt.
Then he ignites like a ball of hair, curling into an oily puff of fumes with a hiss. The candle flame flickers and dims for a moment, then burns as bright as before.
Moth Smoke Lingers. — Mohsin Hamid

This asshole had better open the door," Jackal growled, spinning his fire ax in a graceful arc as the horde came on. "I didn't come all the way to Eden to be eaten at the damn gates. Some might call it ironic, but that just pisses me off. — Julie Kagawa

When you are very old, and sit in the candle - light at evening spinning by the fire, you will say, as you murmur my verses, a wonder in your eyes, 'Ronsard sang of me in the days when I was fair. — Pierre De Ronsard

Currently where you are is on a huge globe with a relatively thin crust of stone, containing fire in its bowels, rotating on its own slightly tilted axis at 1,000 miles per hour in an easterly direction while simultaneously traveling in orbit around an enormous ball of burning hydrogen, 93,000,000 miles away at 66,000 miles per hour. That's 66,000 miles per hour, or nineteen miles per second, which is much faster that you've maybe ever imagined, and means that you will be traveling nearly 60,000,000 miles this coming year.
Beauty is, you don't have to imagine it, you can feel it instead. And if you want to know what it's like, simply stop. Be still, and in that stillness, whatever you are feeling in your belly: that's it. this is what it feels like to go 66,000 miles per hour while spinning at one thousand. — Stephen Russell

Sometimes we can't enjoy the bloom of a rose because we're too busy crying over being pricked by the thorn. — Suzannah Daniels

A good conscience and a good confidence go together. — Thomas Brooks

They were like adolescents, desperately afraid of surrendering the very attitudes they were trying to kill off. — Susan J. Navarette

She opened her hand, and a ball of fire blasted from it toward the cloudless sky of the Realm. It whirled above the Shifters, growing and stretching into a huge flaming disc. It moved down, forming a spinning inferno wall around them. — A.O. Peart

Ugliness has its own splendor when it houses a soul of beauty. — James L. Farmer Jr.

The things which can make life enjoyable remain the same. They are, now as before, reading, music, fine arts, travel, the enjoyment of nature, sports, fashion, social vanity (knightly orders, honorary offices, gatherings) and the intoxication of the senses. — Johan Huizinga

If you declare that you are naturally designed for such a diet, then first kill for yourself what you want to eat. Do it, however, only through your own resources, unaided by cleaver or cudgel or any kind of ax — Plutarch

There has to be a woman, but not much of a one. A good horse is much more important. — Frederick Schiller Faust

Astonishingly, at some point, a sputtering torch was thrust into her hands. Alma did not see who gave it to her. She had never before been entrusted with fire. The torch spit sparks and sent chunks of flaming tar spinning into the air behind her as she bolted across the cosmos-the only body in the heavens who was not held to a strict elliptical path. Nobody stopped her. She was a comet. She did not know that she was not flying. — Elizabeth Gilbert

The primary math of the real world is one and one equals two. The layman (as, often, do I) swings that every day. He goes to the job, does his work, pays his bills and comes home. One plus one equals two. It keeps the world spinning. But artists, musicians, con men, poets, mystics and such are paid to turn that math on its head, to rub two sticks together and bring forth fire. Everybody — Bruce Springsteen

Doorkeepers He was not merely of the salt of the earth, but of the leaven of the kingdom, contributing more to the true life of the world than many a thousand far more widely known and honoured. Such as this man are the chief springs of thought, feeling, inquiry, action, in their neighbourhood; they radiate help and breathe comfort; they reprove, they counsel, they sympathize; in a word, they are doorkeepers of the house of God. Constantly upon its threshold, and every moment pushing the door to peep in, they let out radiance enough to keep the hearts of men believing in the light. They make an atmosphere about them in which spiritual things can thrive, and out of their school often come men who do greater things, better they cannot do, than they. Malcolm, ch. — George MacDonald

There was once a poor shoemaker who had three fine strong sons and two pretty daughters and a third who could do nothing well, who shivered plates and tangled her spinning, who curdled milk, could not get butter to come, nor set a fire so that smoke did not pour into the room, a useless, hopeless, dreaming daughter, to whom her mother would often say that she should try to fend for herself in the wild wood, and then she would know the value of listening to advice, and of doing things properly. And this filled the perverse daughter with a great desire to go even a little way into the wild wood, where there were no plates and no stitching, but might well be a need of such things as she knew she had it in herself to perform ... — A.S. Byatt

Each minute bursts in the burning room,
The great globe reels in the solar fire,
Spinning the trivial and unique away.
(How all things flash! How all things flare!)
What am I now that I was then?
May memory restore again and again
The smallest color of the smallest day:
Time is the school in which we learn,
Time is the fire in which we burn. — Delmore Schwartz

Layla had always just been there. In my life. I wasn't sure who said, 'hi,' first, or maybe who smiled at who first - all I really remembered was staring at her, and her staring back at me, neither of us looking away. Both of us standing frozen, and life falling into the background with a distant hum. As if the world had stopped spinning. Just for us.
I remembered not caring if it had. She'd seemed so familiar, and even as a little kid, I'd known she was special. Like something bigger than me, older than me, had taken over my emotions in a way I didn't understand. She just felt like ... home.
I could have gazed into her eyes forever. Happy to stand in that powerless state for the rest of my life — Laney McMann