Wick Quotes & Sayings

She lights a match in the dark hall and moves it onto the wick of the candle. Light lifts itself onto her shoulders. She is on her knees. She puts her hands on her thighs and breathes in the smell of the sulphur. She imagines she slap breathes in light. — Michael Ondaatje

Life," he said softly, "is more than flesh. Your body is a candle, your soul the flame. The longer I burn the candle..." He did not finish.
"A candle unused is nothing but wax and wick," I said."I would rather light the flame, knowing it will go out than sit forever in darkness. — S. Jae-Jones

Science too proceeds by lantern-flashes; it explores nature's inexhaustible mosiac piece by piece. Too often the wick lacks oil; the glass panes of the lantern may not be clean. No matter : his work is not in vain who first recognizes and shows to others one speck of the vast unknown. — Jean-Henri Fabre

Idly, Wick wondered if he should feel insulted. Then he decided there really wasn't any room for considering an insult with all the fear running rampant in his mind. Maybe he was quiet on the outside, but he knew he was running around screaming inside his thoughts. — Mel Odom

The moment you don't feel like praying, get on your knees. And the moment you don't feel like reading your bible, you'd better get that Book open. — Lori Wick

Make some light, dear."
Garion fumbled for one of the candles, bumped his sleeve against it, and then deftly caught it before it hit the floor.He was sort of proud of that.
"Don't play with it, Garion Just light it."
Her tone was so familiar and so commonplace that he began to laugh, and with the little surge of will that he directed at the candle was a stuttering sort of thing. The flame that appeared bobbled and hiccuped at the end of the wick in a soundless chortle.
Polgara looked steadily at the giggling candle, then closed her eyes, " oh, Garion," she sighed in resignation.
*
"Garion, why is that candle acting like that?"
"Don't worry about it, dear. — David Eddings

When Enebeli Okwara sent his girl out in the world, he did not know what the world did to daughters. He did not know how quickly it would wick the dew off her, how she would be returned to him hollowed out, relieved of her better parts. — Lesley Nneka Arimah

I know love is begun by time,
And that I see, in passages of proof,
Time qualifies the spark and fire of it.
There lives within the very flame of love
A kind of wick or snuff that will abate it.
And nothing is at a like goodness still.
For goodness, growing to a pleurisy,
Dies in his own too-much. That we would do,
We should do when we would, for this "would" changes
And hath abatements and delays as many
As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents.
And then this "should" is like a spendthrift sigh
That hurts by easing. — William Shakespeare

That was my first impression of you, Aubrey. A wick drowning in melted wax, your flame in danger. Just one more gust of wind and you'd be lost. You'd become that lost girl, sad through and through. — Mimi Strong

A bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out, till he leads justice to victory. Matthew 12:20 — Thomas Watson

It's very easy to get a boy to leave the room.
It's much harder to get him to leave your thoughts. — Elizabeth Eulberg

20 a bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not quench, until he brings justice to victory; 21 v and in his name the Gentiles will hope. — Anonymous

What binds a wife to her husband is neither magic, nor a priest, nor love! What makes this possible is only silver coins! A woman's heart is like a candle, my friend. As long as the money wick keeps burning, her heart stays warm. But when the wick burns down, her love is extinguished! — Mehmet Murat Ildan

Finally, slowly, like a newly lighted oil lamp gathering kerosene up into its wick, Wally's face began to glow. He turned to Mack Fulton. "Mack, you know what's on my mind? — Clive Cussler

That was the way with Moldenke, a brightly burning candle with a shortened wick, destined to burn low and give off gas. — David Ohle

Like most men, Wick could not help terror about one thing erupting as anger about something else. — Jeff VanderMeer

I can't give up that quick
My life is a candle and a wick
You can put it out, but you can't break it down
In the end we are waiting to be lit — Laura Marling

History repeating itself is history's oldest story. — Steve Wick

That was what made me think she looked exactly like a cherry bomb. Beautiful to look at but there was something alarming there as well, like a fire was nearing the end of her wick. Her eyes make me feel like if she exploded any where near me, I couldn't help but be a very willing casualty. - Charlie James, Callum & Harper — Fisher Amelie

Don't you have anything to stop a dragon?" Lux asked, climbing as fast as he could in the tree. "The only way to stop a dragon is to stab it through its heart!" Wick shouted back. "Get out of the tree before it comes back! — Amanda Hocking

Ah if only this voice could stop, this meaningless voice which prevents you from being nothing, just barely prevents you from being nothing and nowhere, just enough to keep alight this little yellow flame feebly darting from side to side, panting, as if straining to tear itself from its wick, it should never have been lit, or it should never have been fed, or it should have been put out, put out, it should have been let go out. — Samuel Beckett

I find nothing to be more heroic than someone chasing their own dream against all odds. — S.W. Southwick

People are growing up in the slack flicker of a pale light which lacks the concentrated burn of a candle flame or oil wick or the bulb of a gooseneck desk lamp: a pale, wavering, oblong shimmer, emitting incessant noise, which is to real knowledge or discourse what the manic or weepy protestations of a drunk are to responsible speech. Drunks do have a way of holding an audience, though, and so does the shimmery ill-focused oblong screen. — Adrienne Rich

As I walk , I light the lamp of my soul.
As I walk, I light the wick of another's soul. — Sima Mittal

John Wick is a rousing action thriller of the sort rarely encountered in theaters these days. — James Berardinelli

I can't ask god why until I'm willing to ask why not. — Lori Wick

When I discarded the idea that God was not a man (as I had been raised to think and believe without question), I grew distant, and the flame that once lit my path began to flicker and hiss like a candle burnt to its wick, making longevity impossible without a new energy source. — B.G. Bowers

Love is like a match to a wick. It takes that right combination to strike a flame. But once the flame is there, it can either give warmth, die out or burn your world to ashes. Even kill you. It's how you sustain the flame, feed it, and moderate the amount of energy in balance. — Anthony Liccione

Blue bead on the wick,
there's that in me that
burns and chills, blackening
my heart with its soot,
I think sometimes not Apollo heard me
but a different god. — Denise Levertov

The Shield was another of the Fear's names. According to Laughter, it means he shields the seed of Abraham the way a man starting a fire shields the flame. When Sarah was about to die childless, the Fear gave her a son. When Abraham was about to slaughter the son, the Fear gave him the ram. He is always shielding us like a guttering wick, Laughter said, because the fire he is trying to start with us is a fire that the whole world will live to warm its hands at. It is a fire in the dark that will light the whole world home. — Frederick Buechner

Behind the candle, Dax's face turned red and he sputtered as if suppressing a cough. A flash seared my eyes as the wick ignited.
"That's rude." His outraged expression was comical.
"You wanted it lit."
"Yeah, but I didn't want to do it for you!" He glanced around the room as if seeking the patience to deal with an unruly child. "Zaltanas and their weird powers, forcing me to light the candle. Pah! To think I wanted to live vicariously through your adventures. — Maria V. Snyder

Latchkey! I mean ... I want to talk to you ... '
He fell silent, glancing behind him and shifting from foot to foot, his waterproof trousers rattling like the bulls' bladders that boys use to learn swimming. Sterlingov angrily spat out his cigarette.
'Well? What about?'
'A ... about a secret matter ,' Alyoshka whispered.
Dozens of ears floated around them in the dust waves; the whisper was heard, and it ran on like a spark along a gunpowder wick. Alyoshka's secret message, the mysterious special clothing, the deacon's catastrophe-all this was too much. The atmosphere was charged with thousands of volts, and something was needed to discharge the electricity, to clear the air. ("X") — Yevgeny Zamyatin

Peace is an art as much as war is, and knowing when and how to negotiate peace is the art's highest form. — Wick Allison

A distant love that waits to be together, is by far the most difficult relationship. It's like lighting a candle, and adoring the long flame and robust glow. Until time sets in like wax, overflowing deeper and deeper into the wick, leaving a sparse flame struggling to live. This is where most distant relationships fade, with the wax smothering the flame. This kind of relationship takes patience, hope, unconditional love, trust and strength, all centered around God. If the flame endures to the end, and the two come together, only then will it feel as if the candle was tipped and all the wax came pouring out, when the flame is revived, long and glowing again. — Anthony Liccione

I can think of God as my savior and even my friend, but I must never forget that He is God, and after He saves me, I must put myself in subjection to Him and His will. — Lori Wick

Faithfulness began even before you met your intended. — Lori Wick

Fire cannot hurt us. And yet, when we light her a lantern, there is a moment as we watch the wick flare in the darkness-a moment in which I want to touch the flame. Just to see if I can still be burned. — Meagan Spooner

A lie is a very short wick in a very small lamp. The oil of reputation is very soon sucked up and gone. And just as soon as a man is known to lie, he is like a two-foot pump in a hundred-foot well. He cannot touch bottom at all. — Henry Ward Beecher

How a sip of water from a brass cup or a few drops from a brass spoon of the size of finger or how can one keep rose petals and marigold spreads between the pages of one's books for years or how the fresh shoot of barley could be put behind one's ears or how a dot of vermilion on the forehead or how fasting for a day or how praying or chanting or lightening an incense stick or how lighting a cotton wick dipped in mustard oil or how being blessed by priests and saints or how sitting in a lotus posture or how reading the holy books could kindle in one that thing called faith — Aporva Kala

Will not break a bruised reed, or quench a smoldering wick (Isa. 423; Matt. 12:20). — Richard J. Foster

When people come to speak to me, whatever they say, I am struck by a kind of incandescence in them, the 'I' whose predicate can be 'love' or 'fear' or 'want,' and whose object can be 'someone' or 'nothing' and it won't really matter, because the loveliness is just in that presence, shaped around 'I' like a flame on a wick, emanating itself in grief and guilt and joy and whatever else. — Marilynne Robinson

It's so easy to see people as less than they are, as less than people. — Lori Wick

The most insightful thing I ever heard, was overheard. I was waiting for a rail replacement bus in Hackney Wick. These two old women weren't even talking to me - not because I'd offended them, I hadn't, I'd been angelic at that bus stop, except for the eavesdropping. Rail replacement buses take an eternity, because they think they're doing you a favour by covering for the absent train, you've no recourse.
Eventually the bus appeared, on the distant horizon, and one of the women, with the relief and disbelief that often accompanies the arrival of public transport said, 'Oh look, the bus is coming.' The other woman - a wise woman, seemingly aware that her words and attitude were potent and poetic enough to form the final sentence in a stranger's book - paused, then said, 'The bus was always coming. — Russell Brand

You're going to, Clay? She whispered before he could leave. You're really going to read to me?
Sure.
The smile that lit Jackie's face was the first Clayton had seen from her in more than a year. It did funny things in the region of his chest. He moved toward the door but ran into the doorpost because he was staring behind him watching her. Eddie who was headed that way laughed when she witnessed it.
Are you in a hurry Eddie asked noticing that he looked a little dazed.
She smiled He said his voice bemused. I saw her smile.
Eddie's gaze became very tender. If Jackie could see him now she'd know in an instant how much he still loved her. — Lori Wick

When the candle is burning, who looks at the wick? When the candle is out, who needs it? But the world without light is wasteland and chaos, and a life without sacrifice is abomination. — Annie Dillard

Commonsense is the wick of the candle. — Ralph Waldo Emerson

Rap is like a set-up ... a lot of games,
A lot of suckers with colorful names.
'I'm so-and-so,' 'I'm this, I'm that.'
But they all just wick-wick-wack. — KRS-One

Sorry, I just want a quick little summary of what you do."

Wick chuckled. "He already knows you're long-winded, mate."

Dov glared at him. "I'm sorry?"

Wick's smile split his face as he bumped his colleague with his shoulder and then turned to me. — Mary Calmes

Damn it, Ned. I'm a fucking dangerous man to play with! — Havan Fellows

I believe it was Shakespeare, or possibly Howard Cosell, who first observed that marriage is very much like a birthday candle, in that 'the flames of passion burn brightest when the wick of intimacy is first ignited by the disposable butane lighter of physical attraction, but sooner or later the heat of familiarity causes the wax of boredom to drip all over the vanilla frosting of novelty and the shredded coconut of romance.' I could not have phrased it better myself. — Dave Barry

Jesus says. "Acknowledge and accept who I want to be for you: a Savior of boundless compassion, infinite patience, unbearable forgiveness, and love that keeps no score of wrongs. Quit projecting onto Me your own feelings about yourself. At this moment your life is a bruised reed and I will not crush it, a smoldering wick and I will not quench it. You are in a safe place."
Brennan Manning. Abba's Child: The Cry of the Heart for Intimate Belonging — Brennan Manning

There is no such thing as an artist: there is only the world lit or unlit as the light allows. When the candle is burning, who looks at the wick? When the candle is out, who needs it? — Annie Dillard

He's so full of alcohol, if you put a lighted wick in his mouth he'd burn for three days. — Groucho Marx

There lives within the very flame of love A kind of wick or snuff that will abate it. — William Shakespeare

Jyothishmati pragnya means to see your whole mind as light, as a flame. Your consciousness is a flame. Your mind is a flame. You forget this! Your entire body is functioning because of this presence of the mind as a flame in you. Otherwise, you'll be like an unlit candle. What is a flame? How does a flame work? A flame lives on oxygen, doesn't it? What does it do? A flame uses some matter from the substance earth, and it uses oxygen and lives. And what is life? Life is also the same! It uses oxygen and lives on some matter. Just like a flame lives from the wax and wick, and uses oxygen, so too, your life, the mind, uses the body and food in the body as wax, and the air as oxygen. And it exhibits activities in the body like the flame (consciousness) exhibits life. — Sri Sri Ravi Shankar

The lamp burns bright when wick and oil are clean. — Ovid

Wick to be certain it was entirely extinguished. Energy like your energy. — Maggie Stiefvater

Every Christian has hurts and this is one of yours, but you go to God every time and He holds you. — Lori Wick

Curiosity is the wick in the candle of learning. — William Arthur Ward

Once a man offered me his heart and I said no. Not because I didn't love him. Not because he was a beast or white - I couldn't love him. Do you understand? In bed while we slept, our bodies inches apart, the dark between our flesh a wick. It was burning down. And he couldn't feel it. — Eduardo C. Corral

Your love is the oil in my lamp of life. Your body the wick that burns casting a blanket of comfort over me as the darkness closes in ... I love you — Steven Strait

My body is but wax and wick for flame. When the candle burns out, the light shines elsewhere. — Normandi Ellis

If you devote yourself to God, then He in turn will continually stay with you, as an eternal candle flame stays with a wick, feeding off the overflow of wax; yet reshaping into something better. — Anthony Liccione

If something upset her, she usually talked about it or cried and then got on the road to getting over it or changing it. ... Kate had a tendency to bury her hurts deep inside and when they tried to rear their ugly heads, she effectively pushed them right back down. Kate gave the appearance of handling upsets well, when in actuality she did not handle them at all. — Lori Wick

Youth must be wanton, youth must be quick, Dance to the candle while lasteth the wick. — Tennessee Williams

The best match in the world will not light a candle unless the wick be first suitably prepared. — Algernon Blackwood

A revolutionary poem will not tell you who or when to kill, what and when to burn, or even how to theorize. It reminds you ... where and when and how you are living and might live, it is a wick of desire. — Adrienne Rich

I like "Rock, Paper, Scissors Two-Thirds." You know. "Rock breaks scissors." "These scissors are bent. They're destroyed. I can't cut stuff. So I lose." "Scissors cuts paper." "These are strips. This is not even paper. It's gonna take me forever to put this back together." "Paper covers rock." "Rock is fine. No structural damage to rock. Rock can break through paper at any point. Just say the word. Paper sucks." There should be "Rock, Dynamite with a Cutable Wick, Scissors." — Demetri Martin

It is dark. You cannot see. Only the hint of stars out the broken window. And a voice as old as the Snake from the Garden whispers, 'I will hold your hand. — John Wick

[Crisco] ain't just for frying. You ever get a sticky something stuck in your hair,like gum? ... That's right, Crisco. Spread this on a baby's bottom, you won't even know what diaper rash is ... shoot, I seen ladies rub it under they eyes and on they husband's scaly feet ... Clean the goo from a price tag, take the squeak out a door hinge. Lights get cut off, stick a wick in it and burn it like a candle ... And after all that, it'll still fry your chicken. — Kathryn Stockett

Writing is to descend like a miner to the depths of the mine with a lamp on your forehead, a light whose dubious brightness falsifies everything, whose wick is in permanent danger of explosion, whose blinking illumination in the coal dust exhausts and corrodes your eyes. — Blaise Cendrars

I have been reading Plotinus all evening. He has the power to sooth me; and I find his sadness curiously comforting. Even when he writes: "Life here with the things of earth is a sinking, a defeat, a failure of the wing." The wing has indeed failed. One sinks. Defeat is certain. Even as I write these lines, the lamp wick sputters to an end, and the pool of light in which I sit contracts. Soon the room will be dark. One has always feared that death would be like this. But what else is there? With Julian, the light went, and now nothing remains but to let the darkness come, and hope for a new sun and another day, born of time's mystery and a man's love of life. — Gore Vidal

It is a great pity but tis certain from every day's observation of man, that he may be set on fire like a candle, at either end provided there is a sufficient wick standing out. — Laurence Sterne

Her hair was well brushed that day and sheened darkly in contrast with the lusterless pallor of her neck and arms. She wore the striped tee shirt which in his lone fantasies he especially liked to peel off her twisting torso. The oilcloth was divided into blue and white squares. A smear of honey stained what remained of the butter in its cool crock.
'All right. And the third Real Thing?'
She considered him. A fiery droplet in the wick of her mouth considered him. A three-colored velvet violet, of which she had done an aquarelle on the eve, considered him from its fluted crystal. She said nothing. She licked her spread fingers, still looking at him.
Van, getting no answer, left the balcony. Softly her tower crumbled in the sweet silent sun. — Vladimir Nabokov

You know, you'd do a better job of convincing the men if you dipped your wick in a pussy or two."
Cillian's low voice made him tense. The man stood next to Sean's barstool, watching the sexual festivities in boredom.
"I have a girlfriend," he mumbled.
"I'm sure she won't mind."
Sean glanced at the naked women littering the room, picturing the look on Bailey's face if he admitted to "dipping his wick" in a prostie. "She'd rip my balls off," he said dryly. — Elle Kennedy

The part I gave you is the wick. It's what makes the lantern work. You are my wick, Farrow. I need you to soar. — Lisa Marie

The Holy Spirit doesn't need your help. — Lori Wick

Wee, wee, wee, wee, all the way home," Hazlit quoted the nursery rhyme. Portmaine paused before sipping his own drink. "Did Maggie Windham strike you on the head?" "No. She hired me, and it took me half my walk home to figure out what she's truly about." "She wants to have her way with your tender young flesh," Portmaine suggested. "You're overdue to get your wick dipped, you know." "Your concern is touching, Archer." "You always get short-tempered when you've neglected your romping. Maybe you should go a round or two with Lady Norcross." "Maybe I should find a partner who can think beyond his next swiving." "I like swiving." Portmaine pushed off the desk and refilled his drink, then came to rest on the sofa a couple of feet from Hazlit. "It's normal to like swiving. Lady Norcross apparently understands this. You used to understand this. I certainly understand it. More brandy?" "You're outpacing me," Hazlit said, smiling slightly at Portmaine's predictable simplicity. "And — Grace Burrowes

His voice just stops, exactly like when the needle is lifted from a phonograph record by the hand of someone who is not listening to the record. [ ... ] She speaks the same dead, level tone: two bodiless voices in monotonous strophe and anistrophe: to bodiless voices recounting dreamily something performed in a region without dimension by people without blood [ ... ] Two of them are also motionless, the woman with that stonevisaged patience of a waiting rock, the old man with a spent quality like the charred wick of a candle from which the flame has been violently blown away. — William Faulkner

People always ask, Why does God allow suffering? Why does He allow a child to be beaten? A woman to cry? A holocaust to happen? A good dog to die painfully? Simple truth is, He wants to see for Himself what we'll do. He's stood up the candle, put the devil at the wick, and now He wants to see if we blow it out or let it burn down. God is suffering's biggest spectator. — Tiffany McDaniel

A wild, wick slip she was — Virginia Woolf