Make Me Burn Quotes & Sayings

My head aches, my eyes burn, my arms and legs have given up, and my face in the mirror has a grayish cast. The bed, across the room, calls in its unmistakable lover's croon, Come to me, come, only I can make you truly happy, oh, how happy I'll make you, don't resist, remember how you moan with pleasure the instant we touch ...
Laura Acosta — Lynne Sharon Schwartz

Give me the Love that leads the way The Faith that nothing can dismay The Hope no disappointments tire The Passion that'll burn like fire Let me not sink to be a clod Make me Thy fuel, Flame of God — Amy Carmichael

I could tell in his face that I could burn the house down, and he'd just get out marshmallows and thank me for the lovely flame. I'm not sure I could make a mistake big enough for him not to forgive. — Kiera Cass

For me a page of good prose is where one hears the rain. A page of good prose is when one hears the noise of battle ... A page of good prose seems to me the most serious dialogue that well-informed and intelligent men and women carry on today in their endeavor to make sure that the fires of this planet burn peaceably. — John Cheever

Batter my heart, three-personed God, for you As yet but knock; breathe, shine, and seek to mend; That I may rise, and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new. — John Donne

THE SHIP SUNK IN LOVE
Should Love's heart rejoice unless I burn?
For my heart is Love's dwelling.
If You will burn Your house, burn it, Love!
Who will say, 'It's not allowed'?
Burn this house thoroughly!
The lover's house improves with fire.
From now on I will make burning my aim,
From now on I will make burning my aim,
for I am like the candle: burning only makes me brighter.
Abandon sleep tonight; traverse fro one night
the region of the sleepless.
Look upon these lovers who have become distraught
and like moths have died in union with the One Beloved.
Look upon this ship of God's creatures
and see how it is sunk in Love. — Rumi

It is time," said the Lord Pilot, "to see this calamity to its end." Spoken in Archaic English: the words uttered by Thomas Clarkson in 1785, at the beginning of the end of slavery. "I have set my will against this disaster; I will break it, or it will break me." Ira Howard in 2014. "I will not share my universe with this shadow," and that was the Lord Pilot, in an anger hotter than the nova's ashes. "Help me if you will, or step aside if you lack decisiveness; but do not make yourself my obstacle, or I will burn you down, and any that stand with you - — Eliezer Yudkowsky

The only person in my head is me.
Tibe is not the same. The crown has changed him, as you feared it would.
The fire is in him, the fire that will burn all the world.
And it is in your son, in the prince who will never change his blood and will never sit a throne.
The only person in my head is me.
The only person who has not changed is you. You are still the little girl in a dusty room, forgotten, unwanted, out of place. You are the queen of everything, mother to a beautiful son, wife to a king who loves you, and still you cannot find it in yourself to smile.
Still you make nothing.
Still you are empty.
The only person in your head is you.
And she is no one of any importance.
She is nothing — Victoria Aveyard

In America: each year the day before school after summer vacation I sat on my bed touching my notebooks, pencils, ruler-holding the stern and sweet smelling brown oxfords in my lap and spreading my skirt and blouse and underwear and socks before me. My mother would come in and always say the same thing: "Free paper burn now."
Such words conspire to make a past.
Such words conjure a knowledge.
Such words make assimilation impossible. They stay with you for years. They puzzle but you sense a significance. I need these words. — Michelle Cliff

I'll be hurting elsewhere in a moment if I don't get you into bed right now." He chuckled as he laid her on the mattress. One hand clutching his robe, she tugged him downward.
"Then touch me, Nicholas. Make me burn like you did a few moments ago. I want you touching me, sucking on me...I want you to fuck me until neither one of us can move."
"Christ Jesus," he rasped at the lust echoing through her words. — Monica Burns

Savannah moved gracefully, going directly across the darkened street, heading for the shadows of the square. She was very much aware of Gregori still close to her, his body protective. For a moment she thought he brushed her shoulder with his hand, the sensation was so real, but when she turned her head, he was several feet behind.
Go, ma petite, take Gary to the house.Do not allow the neighbors to see either of you.And place the safeguards carefully.
What about you?
There is no safeguard I cannot unravel. Go now. This time, there was so mistake. He was four feet away, already turning away from her, but she felt his mouth burning possessively on hers, lingering for just a moment, his tongue tracing the curve of her lip. She couldn't believe he could make her want him, burn for him, when he was going off into the night alone to fight their enemies.
The night has always been mine, Savannah.Do not waste your time worrying about me. — Christine Feehan

Not everyone born free and equal, but everyone made equal. Each man the image of every other; then all are happy, for there are no mountains to make them cower, to judge themselves against. So! A book is a loaded gun in the house next door. Burn it. Take the shot from the weapon. Breach man's mind. Who knows who might be the target of the well-read man. Me? I won't stomach them for a minute. — Ray Bradbury

Churches crack me up. They're like money, a conspiracy of faith. Like everyone agreed to believe that not only is there a God, but he comes down and checks on folks, so long as they hang in certain places, put up alters, burn lots of candles and incense, and perform sit-stand-kneel and other wacky rituals that'd make a coven of witches not look OCD. — Karen Marie Moning

I wanted a drink. There were a hundred reasons why a man will want a drink, but I wanted one now for the most elementary reason of all. I didn't want to feel what I was feeling, and a voice within was telling me that I needed a drink, that I couldn't bear it without it.
But that voice is a liar. You can always bear the pain. It'll hurt, it'll burn like acid in an open wound, but you can stand it. And, as long as you can make yourself go on choosing the pain over the relief, you can keep going. — Lawrence Block

It feels like nobody in the history of the world has loved another person as much as I love you. I love you so much it hurts. You make me smile, you make me laugh, you make me burn. — L. H. Cosway

Well, I suppose men can make all the laws they like," he said, "but God made hope. The stars willna burn out." He turned and, cupping my chin, kissed me gently. "And nor will we. — Diana Gabaldon

I heard only last week that they want to make Erkenwald into a saint. Priests come to my home beside the northern sea where they find an old man, and they tell me I am just a few paces from the fires of hell. I only need repent, they say, and I will go to heaven and live for evermore in the blessed company of the saints. And I would rather burn till time itself burns out. — Bernard Cornwell

I will kill them," Temujin promised, rage kindling in him. "I will burn them and eat their flesh if they do." "That will bring you peace, but it will not change anything for Borte," Hoelun said. "What else can I do? She cannot kill them as I could, or force them to kill her, even. Nothing that happens is her fault." He found himself crying and wiped angrily at bloody tears on his cheeks. "She trusted me." "You cannot make this right, my son. Not if they escape your brothers. If you find her alive, you will have to be patient and kind." "I know that! I love her; that is enough." "It was," Hoelun persisted. "It may not be enough any longer. — Conn Iggulden

Maybe. Maybe. He said, "Does Dorian actually matter, or is he a pawn for Terrasen?"
"Don't even start with that." For a moment he thought she was done, but than she spat, "Killing him, Chaol, would be a mercy. Killing him would be a gift."
"I can't make the shot," Nesryn said again-a bit more sharply.
"Touch him," Chaol said, "and I'll make sure those bastards down there find Aedion."
Nesryn silently turned to them, slackening her bow. It was the only card he had to play, even if it made him a bastard as well.
The wrath Chaol found in Aelin's eyes were world-ending.
"You bring my court into this, Chaol," Aelin said with lethal softness, "and I don't care what you were to me, or what you have done to help me. You betray them, you hurt them, and I don't care how long it takes, or how far you go: I'll burn you and your gods-damned kingdom to ash. Then you'll learn just how much of a monster I can be."
Too far. He'd gone too far. — Sarah J. Maas

You would have me burn your enemies for the glory of your kingdom, little fleck? In a thousand years Tadroth will be only a legend. In two thousand, even the legend will be forgotten. When you and all you make are dust in a grave, only I will remain. Why should I care how many kings rule this land for a season? Why should I care if your Serian lives or dies? — David G. Hartwell

Goddamn. what is this shit?
early times, called j-bone. best little old drink they is. drink that and you wont feel a thing the next mornin.
or any morning.
whoo lord, give it here. hello early, come to your old daddy.
here, pour some of it in this cup and let me cut it with coca-cola.
can't do it, bud.
why not?
we done tried it. it eats the bottom out.
watch it suttree. don't spill none on your shoes
lord honey i know they make that old splo in the bathtub but this here is made in the toilet. he was looking at the bottle, shaking it. bubbles the size of gooseshot veered greasily up through the smoky fuel it held.
the last time i drank some of that shit i like to died. i stunk from the inside out. i laid in a tub of hot water all day and climbed out and dried and you could still smell it. i had to burn my clothes.
early times, he called. make your liver quiver.
(page 26) — Cormac McCarthy

Our story ends happily ever after. It has to. We escape Battle Creek, pile into the car, and burn a strip of rubber down the highway. Fly away west, to the promised land. Our rooms will be lit by lava lamps and Christmas lights. Our lives will glow. Consciousness will rise and minds will expand, and beautiful boys in flannel shirts will make snow angels on our floor and write love letters on our ceiling with black polish and red lipstick. We will be their muses, and they will strum their guitars beneath our window, calling to us with a siren song. Come down come away with me. We will lean out of our tower, our hair swinging like Rapunzel's, and laugh, because nothing will carry us away from each other. — Robin Wasserman

Heaven or Hell? You make it seem as if that's an easy choice to make. Sitting there in heaven watching others burn, and I can't do anything to help? That in itself would be hell for me. I'd be up there fighting god and his angels to let me out, so that I can come down and at least try to help. I am a moral person. Heaven is for uncaring Hypocrites. — Deborah Pryce

I am of the opinion that my life belongs to the community, and as long as I live, it is my privilege to do for it whatever I can. I want to be thoroughly used up when I die, for the harder I work, the more I live. Life is no 'brief candle' to me. It ia a sort of splendid torch which I have got hold of for a moment, and I want to make it burn as brightly as possible before handing it on to the future generations. — George Bernard Shaw

The Rhythm of the Night"

This is the rhythm of the night
The night, oh yeah
The rhythm of the night
This is the rhythm of my life
My life, oh yeah
The rhythm of my life

You could put some joy upon my face
Oh, sunshine in an empty place
Take me to turn to, and babe I'll make you stay

Oh, I can ease you of your pain
Feel you give me love again
Round and round we go, each time I hear you say

This is the rhythm of the night
The night, oh yeah
The rhythm of the night
This is the rhythm of my life
My life, oh yeah
The rhythm of my life

Won't you teach me how to love and learn
There'll be nothing left for me to yearn
Think of me and burn, and let me hold your hand

I don't wanna face the world in tears
Please think again, I'm on my knees
Sing that song to me, no reason to repent
I know you wanna say it — Corona

Batter my heart, three-person'd God ; for you
As yet but knock ; breathe, shine, and seek to mend ;
That I may rise, and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
Your force, to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I, like an usurp'd town, to another due,
Labour to admit you, but O, to no end.
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captived, and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly I love you, and would be loved fain,
But am betroth'd unto your enemy ;
Divorce me, untie, or break that knot again,
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me. — John Donne

I have lived a long life, and I have seen a few things. I walked away from the Last Great Time War. I marked the passing of the Time Lords. I saw the birth of the universe and I watched as time ran out, moment by moment, until nothing remained; no time, no space. Just me. I walked in universes where the laws of physics were devised by the mind of a madman. I watched universes freeze and creations burn. I have seen things you wouldn't believe, I have lost things you will never understand. And I know things, secrets that must never be told, knowledge that must never be spoken. Knowledge that will make parasite gods blaze! So come on then! Take it! Take it all, baby! Have it! You have it all! — Neil Cross

I obey. He tosses my jeans aside and settles between my legs and grabs hold of my wrists again. With his other hand, he lubes up his dick, then guides it to the place that aches for him. "Fucking fuck me," I beg. Humor dances in his eyes. "I'm not going to fuck you." Now I'm groaning again. Goddamn it. If he plans on torturing me again, I really will lose my mind - "I'm going to make love to you," he finishes. My breath hitches. Smiling, Wes drops his mouth to mine. Our lips lock at the same moment he slowly slides inside me. The burn of pleasure makes me gasp but he swallows the sound with a soft, sweet kiss that matches the soft, sweet strokes of his cock. He fills me. Completes me. My dick is an iron spike against my belly, and I struggle against the tight band of his fingers around my wrists. — Sarina Bowen

Own me," I gasped. "Obliterate me. Make me feel like there's absolute nothing left but our bodies as they burn." He didn't answer me. He didn't have to. His fingers shoved inside me and started to dance in the way only Cole's ever could. — Ace Gray

I'd thought about this for a long time. "That bank loses that much money in bad loans every
month. They make that much money in interest every day. They're a big bank. The money I
took was small change to them. No depositor was hurt."
She shook her head. "I still can't approve of it. I don't think it's right."
I felt my face go remote, still. I crossed my arms and felt cold.
She spread her hands. "It doesn't change the fact that I still love you. I've missed you terribly.
I've missed your phone calls, and I've missed your body in bed next to me. I don't know what
to do about this. My loving you goes way beyond my disapproval of your theft."
I uncrossed my arms and reached across the table for her. She leaned forward and we kissed
until the candle burned a hole in my shirt. Then we laughed and I held an ice cube to the
burn and the food came and everything was all right. — Steven Gould

Keep it always with you that laughter who knock at your door and say, 'May I come in?' is not the true laughter. No! he is a king, and he come when and how he like. He ask no person; he choose no time of suitability. He say, 'I am here.' ... Oh, friend John, it is a strange world, a sad world, a world full of miseries, and woes, and troubles; and yet when King Laugh come he make them all dance to the tune he play. Bleeding hearts, and dry bones of the churchyard, and tears that burn as they fall - all dance together to the music that he make with that smileless mouth of him. And believe me, friend John, that he is good to come, and kind. Ah, we men and women are like ropes drawn tight with strain that pull us different ways. Then tears come; and, like the rain on the ropes, they brace us up, until perhaps the strain become too great, and we break. But King Laugh he come like the sunshine, and he ease off the strain again; and we bear to go on with our labour, what it may be. — Bram Stoker

We're always upstairs. We're not the madwomen in the attic
they get lots of play, one way or another. We're the quiet woman at the end of the third-floor hallway, whose trash is always tidy, who smiles brightly in the stairwell with a cheerful greeting, and who, from behind closed doors, never makes a sound. In our lives of quiet desperation, the woman upstairs is who we are, with or without a goddamn tabby or a pesky lolloping Labrador, and not a soul registers that we are furious. We're completely invisible. I thought it wasn't true, or not true of me, but I've learned I am no different at all. The question now is how to work it, how to use that invisibility, to make it burn. — Claire Messud

Luceo non euro means I shine, not burn. To me, though, it means that I have a choice. I need to balance the bad with the good, make sure to avoid the things that could burn or scar me but get close enough to the heat that I feel life and really experience it. — Elle Casey

I relish the snap, welcome the burn, don't stop yet it's still my turn. Tighten your grip, make me bleed, this is a hunger I need to feed... — Pepper Winters

Her hands clutched at his upper arms.
"Y-you make me feel ... "
He glanced up at her, saw the way she was biting her lower lip and the tortured frown between her closed eyes. "What do I make you feel, honey?" he prompted in a low voice, unable to look away from her beautiful face, and he rubbed the heel of his palm against the hard bud of her clitoris.
Her body went wire taut, arching like a hunter's bow as she gasped for him.
"Unbalanced. — Edie Harris

The historical Jesus . . . does not make any direct demand on us, nor does he condemn us for any deed we have committed against him. . . . I have done him no wrong and there is nothing for which he has to forgive me.255 I have never yet felt uncomfortable with my critical radicalism; to the contrary, I have been entirely comfortable. But I often have the impression that my conservative New Testament colleagues feel very uncomfortable, for I see them perpetually engaged in salvage operations. I calmly let the fire burn, for I see that what is consumed is only the fanciful portraits found in life-of-Jesus theology, and that is precisely the Christos kata sarka [Christ according to the flesh]. But the Christos kata sarka is no concern of ours. How things looked in the heart of Jesus I do not know and do not want to know.256 — Hammann Konrad

Cut this tree I'm living in down. Hollow its trunk out.
Make me all over again, with what you scooped out of its insides.
Slide the new me back inside the old trunk.
Burn me. Burn the tree. Spread the ashes, for luck, where you want next year's crops to grow.
Birth me and the tree
Next summer's sun
Midwinter guarantee — Ali Smith

I always get so overwhelmed trying to do everything perfectly. I can't do a job and not put everything I have into it. I need to be the best employee, the best co-worker, the best whatever. I need everyone to like me and I just burn out bending over backward to make that happen. Having people be mad at me is my worst fear. I can't stand it. There is this crazy fear I have of being rejected by anyone - even people I don't really care about. It's always better to leave them first, cut all ties, and disappear. They can't hurt me that way - no one can. — Nic Sheff

I don't want you to go, but I can't make you stay. I want to continue holding you in my arms at night when you can't sleep and be there in the morning when you're adjusting to yet another new outfit. I also need someone to burn dinner because that doesn't happen nearly enough for me. — Sydney Landon

Let me take you in my arms, spilling down all my dreams into your eyes and draining down all my love into your heart. Let me make the whole universe sings the song that I wrote for you, where the sun craves to go down every morning and moon waits to raise again every night eagerly just to see us burn down the walls we have built around us, inside each other's arms. — Akshay Vasu

I love you. I love the way you rub the scar on the back of your hand when you're nervous. I love the way you make a sword into a living part of your body. I love the way you burn your eyes into me, as if you're seeing me fresh every time. I love the black streak in you that wants to kill the world, and the soft streak that is sorry afterward. I love the way you laugh, as if you're surprised that you can laugh at all. I love the way you kiss my breath away. I love the way you breathe and speak and smile. I love the way you take the air out of my lungs when you hold me. I love the way you make a dance out of death. I love the confusion I see in your eyes when you realize you are happy. I love every muscle and bone in your body, every twist and bend in your soul. — Kate Quinn

How long?" Jayce's scalding breath singed the side of Wes' neck as he spoke against his skin. "Does Scotto know about you and me? Does he know I'm the one who ruined you for him and all men?"
Bastard was so full of himself. Wes remained quiet and ceased his struggles. He could breathe since Jayce's hold wasn't too tight. But his chest heaved and his groin throbbed like a mother. He hated how he responded to the slightest touch from Jayce. — Avril Ashton

Luceo non uro means I shine, not burn. To me, though, it means that I have a choice. I need to balance the bad with the good, make sure to avoid the things that could burn or scar me but get close enough to the heat that I feel life and really experience it. Until I met you, I'd never really embraced that idea. I walked around my life just being there, but not really feeling it or being actively involved in making it worthwhile. Then there was you, and suddenly it all made sense. I grabbed onto what Fortune was offering me that night and ran with it. I was shining that night, for sure. Brighter than the Vegas strip. — Elle Casey

A T-shirt is a T-shirt. Spending hundreds of dollars on it doesn't elevate it. He was under-dressed, even if his casual outfit did cost more than my suit and tie.
I once had another fashion victim tell me, 'This T-shirt cost twelve thousand dollars!'
What difference does that make? If that's the message you want to send about yourself and your fashion sense, you should wear the price tag, or that should be the message on your T-shirt: 'Hi. This T-shirt costs more than a semester of college.' Or: 'Hi. I have money to burn. Please help me get rid of all this wealth.' And my shirt, in turn, would say, 'Great. Please write a $12,000 check to charity. — Tim Gunn

Hence we should all make St. Augustine's prayer our own: "Lord, here cut, here burn and spare me not, but spare me in eternity! — Alfonso Maria De Liguori

I'll mess up sometimes. I'll cry for no reason, burn food because I'm lost in another world while reading, snap at you because I'm having a bad day, and be completely irrational at times, but I'll love you, always. You make me so happy, so needed. — Melody Anne

And wasn't it this bright boy you selected for beating and tortures after hours? Of course it was. We must all be alike. Not everyone born free and equal, as the Constitution says, but everyone made equal. Each man the image of every other; then all are happy, for their are no mountains to make them cower, to judge themselves against. So! A book is a loaded gun in the house next door. Burn it. Take the shot from the weapon. Breach man's mind. Who knows who might be the target of the well-read man? Me? I won't stomach them for a minute. And so when houses were finally fireproofed completely, all over the world (you were correct in your assumption the other night) there was no longer need of firemen for the old purposes. They were given the new job, as custodians of our peace of mind, the focus of our understandable and rightful dread of being inferior: official censors, judges and executors. That's you, Montag, and that's me. — Ray Bradbury

And, because in some hard core of me, in some stubborn trench of selfish refusal, I could not, even at ten years of age, surrender to anything or anyone, I fought that pain. I analysed its offensive, and found its lines of attack. It festered, like the corruption in a wound turned sour, drawing strength from me. I knew enough to know the remedy. Hot iron for infection, cauterize, burn, make it pure. I cut from myself all the weakness of care. The love for my dead, I put aside, secure in a casket, an object of study, a dry exhibit, no longer bleeding, cut loose, set free. The capacity for new love, I burned out. I watered it with acid until the ground lay barren and nothing there would sprout, no flower take root. — Mark Lawrence

It hit me like divine inspiration. Religion is the greatest graft ever invented because no one ever loses money claiming to speak for the invisible man in the sky. People already believe in him. They already accept that they owe him money, and they think they'll burn in hell if they don't pay him. If you can't make money in the religion business, you need to give up. — Jake Hinkson

What about me? I love you so much. And I tried to make you go away. I killed you and it didn't help. And I hate it! I hate that it's so hard and that you can hurt me so much. I know everything that you did, because you did it to me. Oh, God! I wish that I wished you dead. I don't. I can't. Strong is fighting! It's hard, and it's painful, and it's every day. It's what we have to do. And we can do it together. But if you're too much of a coward for that, then burn. If I can't convince you that you belong in this world, then I don't know what can. But do not expect me to watch. And don't expect me to mourn for you, because ... — Joss Whedon

Closing my eyes, I lowered the wall around my Mori.
'Are you okay? Did I hurt you?'
'Solmi hurt', it replied, still a little upset.
I almost rolled my eyes. One-track mind. 'Solmi is okay', I assured it. 'Did the glow burn you?'
'No burn'. The demon moved forward a little. 'Again?' It asked eagerly.
'Not yet. Soon.'
I opened my eyes and stared at the pretty little lake as I tried to make sense of it all. For the first time, I left the wall down, and my Mori and I sat quietly together, not joined, but as companions. I sighed in contentment. 'This is nice, demon. I could get used to this.'
It curled up like a happy cat. 'Me too. — Karen Lynch

Nothing moves me more than courage: so total a sacrifice deserved complete trust from me. But she never believed that I trusted her, since she did not suspect how much I distrusted others. In spite of appearances to the contrary, I do not regret having yielded to Sophie as much as it lay in my nature to do; at the first glance I had caught sight of something in her incorruptible, with which one could make a compact as sure, and as dangerous, as with an element itself. Fire may be trusted, provided one knows that its law is to burn, or die. — Marguerite Yourcenar

Vilis still doesn't pass to me but I don't care. Where he comes from (Latvia) they burn black people into tar and make roads out of them. — Stephen Kelman

Cleaning me up is just a preliminary step to determining my new look. With my acid-damaged hair, sunburned skin, and ugly scars, the prep team has to make me pretty and then damage, burn, and scare me in a more attractive way. — Suzanne Collins

It was high time, for I now began to be tortured with thirst. The glow of the sun from above, its thousandfold reflection from the waves, the sea-water that fell and dried upon me, caking my very lips with salt, combined to make my throat burn and my brain ache. — Robert Louis Stevenson

Mel? Mel, I love you. Mel, come back . Mel, Mel, Mel."
It's Jared's voice, trying to call me back the way Wanda called back the Healer's host, the way she taught Kyle to call to Jodi.
I can answer him. I can speak now. I can feel my tongue in my mouth, ready to move into whatever shape I ask it to. I can feel the air in my lungs, ready to push out the words. If I want this.
"Mel, I love you, I love you."
This is Wanda's gift to me, paid for with her silver blood. Jared and I, put back together again as if she'd never lived. As if she hadn't saved us both.
If I accept this gift, I profit from her death. I kill her again. I take her sacrifice and make it murder.
"Mel, please? Open your eyes."
I feel his hand on my face, cradling my cheek. I feel his lips burn against my forehead, but I don't want them, not at this price.
Or do I? — Stephenie Meyer

So Lightning says to Mud,
"What would happen if I struck your blood?"
And Mud says, "Brother,
It would hurt,
And make me the mother
Of every living thing.
But, Fire Boy, you ain't lifting my grass skirt
Until you burn me a ring. — Sherman Alexie

For it whatever I can. I want to be thoroughly used up when I die. For the harder I work, the more I live. I rejoice in life for its own sake. Life is no brief candle to me. It's a sort of splendid torch which I've got to hold up for the moment and I want to make it burn as brightly as possible before handing it on to future generations. — Robin S. Sharma

The one thing you don't do is screw with me, or I'll make your life a living hell; and trust me I'll make sure you burn! — Anonymous

No," she said firmly. "I want you to stay when I go. Break tradition again, my love, and burn me alone in the home we built. I don't want you with me. You aren't done. You see too far ahead. You need to make the world in your thoughts a real one that our children can fly in." - Matalina to Jenks — Kim Harrison

My policy has always been to burn my bridges behind me. My face is always set toward the future. If I make a mistake it is fatal. When I am flung back I fall all the way back - to the very bottom. My one safeguard is my resiliency. So far I have always bounced back. — Henry Miller

The Reed Flute's Work
I say to the reed flute, You do the work,
yet you know sweet secrets too.
You share the Friend's breathing.
What could you need from me?
The reed replies, Knowledge is total
destruction. I say, Burn me completely then
and leave no knowing.
How could I, when it's knowledge that leads us?
But this knowledge has lost compassion
and grown disgusted with itself.
It has forgotten about silence and emptiness.
A reed flute has nine holes
and is a model of human consciousness,
beheaded, though still in love with lips.
This is your disgrace, this moaning.
Weep for the sounds you make. — Rumi

I make grilled cheeses for lunch, one for me, two for Will. We don't have any chips, but I find a far of pickles in the pantry.
"This is the best thing I've ever eaten." He pauses for a drink, staring at me over the rim of his glass of juice.
"It's the provolone," I say, swallowing my last bite.
"It's the chef."
I smile and look away.
We listen to music. Talk. Kiss until my flesh glimmers gold-red. Warms to the touch from the deep scald at my core. He stops to watch. Leans his face close to my neck and smells my skin. Like I'm something he might taste. He sweeps his hands along my arms ... making me burn hotter.
"Is this what it's like for other fire-breathers?" he asks, winks, holding my hand up in his broad palm. "Or is it just me and my magic hands? — Sophie Jordan

She disapproved tacitly of crying. Preferred "helpful advice." But her advice wasn't always that helpful for me. I don't do yoga; don't have her green thumb; don't really like window-shopping - especially not in stores where I can't afford even the candles they burn to make you calm enough to take your wallet out - and am unmotivated, in times of sorrow, to host dinners or attend social events. I — Alena Graedon

Hope that had sparked in my chest now lit a fire, and I fanned it, wanting it to burn hot and bright, because hope ... hope was not the enemy. It was a friend, a savior. Hope was more than a new beginning. Hope was tomorrow, and hope was the symbol that I would get better, that I would undo the bad choices that I'd made, and that I would never make them again. Hope was more than a chance of redemption. It was the promise of one day finding absolution, of forgiving myself.
But it was more than that. Hope was also today, and today was so very important. There would be no more rushing through seconds and minutes. I promised myself that. I was going to live, and it was going to be hard at times. There would be setbacks and days when everything would feel dull and tarnished somehow, but I had hope and I had the knowledge to face what was causing me to suffer. I had my friends. I had Tanner.
And most importantly, I had myself. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

Oh my fucking - " Ruxs heaved underneath him, taking the burn and stretch like the man Green knew he was. "Fuck!" "Just as tight as I knew this virgin ass would be." Green panted in Ruxs ear. He hadn't moved, knew if he did it would be over before it even began. "Fuck you," Ruxs grunted. "Augh. Do something, Chris." "I'm gonna make you feel real good, baby." Green slowly pulled out, just halfway, and slid back in again. "You trust me don't you?" "I did. Before you lied and said this fuckin' felt good." Ruxs turned a little, positioning most of his weight on side, making Green maneuver with him. Green — A.E. Via

Calm down? Calm done! What is it about those two words that make the fury inside me burn hotter? It's as though a match is lit, setting every muscle, every nerve ending in my body, in flames. Calm down. Those simple words cause an entirely different response in a person than they should. — Ashley Stoyanoff

makes me more than sad, it makes my heart burn within me, to see that folk can make a jest of striving men; of chaps who comed to ask for a bit o' fire for th' old granny, as shivers i' th' cold; for a bit o' bedding, and some warm clothing to the poor wife who lies in labour on th' damp flags; and for victuals for the childer, whose little voices are getting too faint and weak to cry aloud wi' hunger. For, brothers, is not them the things we ask for when we ask for more wage? We donnot want dainties, we want bellyfuls; we donnot want gimcrack coats and waistcoats, we want warm clothes; and so that we get 'em, we'd not quarrel wi' what they're made on. We donnot want their grand houses, we want a roof to cover us from the rain, and the snow, and the storm; ay, and not alone to cover us, but the helpless ones that cling to us in the keen wind, and ask us with their eyes why we brought 'em into th' world to suffer?" He — Elizabeth Gaskell

You have the body of a god and the smile of a demon. I walk towards you, barefoot, a believer walking a religious path. I wrap my arms around your neck, a priest hugging his crucifix.
I offer you my all. Burn me like incense.
Let's make all the church bells in hell ring just for us. — Malak El Halabi

Andras Riedlmayer described a colleague who survived the siege of Sarajevo. In the winter, the scholar and his wife ran out of firewood, and so began to burn their books for heat and cooking. 'This forces one to think critically,' Riedlmayer remembered his friend saying. 'One must prioritize. First you burn old college textbooks, which you haven't read in thirty years. Then there are the duplicates. But eventually, you're forced to make tougher choices. Who burns today: Dostoevsky or Proust?' I asked Riedlmayer if his friend had any books left when the war was over. 'Oh yes,' he replied, his face lit by a flickering smile. 'He still had many books. Sometimes, he told me, you look at the books and just choose to go hungry. — Matthew Battles

I couldn't make sense of the mess in my head. Diego was dead, and that was the main thing, the devastating thing. Other than that, the fight was over, my coven had lost and my enemies had won. But my dead coven was full of people who would have loved to watch me burn, and my enemies were speaking to me kindly when they had no reason to. — Stephenie Meyer

I am not going to live, and I can choose to be as much for her as I can be, to burn as brightly for her as I wish, and for a shorter time, than to burden her with someone only half-alive for a longer time. It is my choice, William, and you cannot make it for me. — Cassandra Clare