Quotes About Dust

Quotes tagged as "dust" (showing 1-30 of 76)
Rick Riordan
“Poison!" Grover yelped. "Don't let those things touch you or..."
"Or we'll die?" I guessed.
"Well...after you shrivel slowly to dust, yes."
"Let's avoid the swords," I decided.”
Rick Riordan

“Pulvis et umbra sumus. (We are but dust and shadow.)”
Horace, The Odes of Horace: Bilingual Edition

Mahatma Gandhi
“The seeker after truth should be humbler than the dust. The world crushes the dust under its feet, but the seeker after truth should so humble himself that even the dust could crush him. Only then, and not till then, will he have a glimpse of truth.”
Mahatma Gandhi, The Story of My Experiments With Truth

Ray Bradbury
“For if we're destroyed, the knowledge is dead...We're nothing more than dust jackets for books...so many pages to a person...”
Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451

Vera Nazarian
“The desert and the ocean are realms of desolation on the surface.

The desert is a place of bones, where the innards are turned out, to desiccate into dust.

The ocean is a place of skin, rich outer membranes hiding thick juicy insides, laden with the soup of being.

Inside out and outside in. These are worlds of things that implode or explode, and the only catalyst that determines the direction of eco-movement is the balance of water.

Both worlds are deceptive, dangerous. Both, seething with hidden life.

The only veil that stands between perception of what is underneath the desolate surface is your courage.

Dare to breach the surface and sink.”
Vera Nazarian, The Perpetual Calendar of Inspiration

Elle Jasper
“My Gullah grandfather is bringing a bag of dust to a vampire war. I feel better.”
Elle Jasper, Afterlight

Alistair Begg
“At best we are but clay, animated dust; but viewed as sinners, we are monsters indeed. Let it be published in heaven as a miracle that the Lord Jesus should set His heart's love upon people like us.”
Alistair Begg

Dejan Stojanovic
“All dust is the same dust.
Temporarily separated
To go peacefully
And enjoy the eternal nap.”
Dejan Stojanovic, Circling: 1978-1987

T.S. Eliot
“There is shadow under this red rock // (Come in under the shadow of this red rock) // And I will show you something different from either // Your shadow at morning striding behind you // Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you // I will show you fear in a handful of dust.”
T.S. Eliot, The Waste Land

Kamila Shamsie
“I didn’t tell him that I grew up in an ugly city that taught me how to look between dust and rubbish and potholes to find a splinter of glass that looked like unmelting ice, beautiful in its defiance of the sun.”
Kamila Shamsie, Kartography

Diane Zahler
“My dear, my dearest dust; I come, I come.”
Diane Zahler, The Thirteenth Princess

Dejan Stojanovic
“Dust to dust, ashes to ashes. Is that all?”
Dejan Stojanovic

Anthony Liccione
“We are all dust passing through the air, the difference is, some are flying high in the sky, while others are flying low. But eventually, we all settle on the same ground.”
Anthony Liccione

Jessica Khoury
“Time has a different meaning for me, and these events that seem so monumental in the moment will one day be nothing more than a line in a scroll. These humans are but letters to be inked into history. A hundred years from now, I will be free. I will have forgotten their names and faces, and the struggles they have will not matter. Time has a way of burying things, shifting like the desert and swallowing entire civilizations, erasing them from map and memory. Always, in the end, everything returns to dust.”
Jessica Khoury, The Forbidden Wish

Peter Ackroyd
“Is Dust immortal then, I ask'd him, so that we may see it blowing through the Centuries? But as Walter gave no Answer I jested with him further to break his Melancholy humour: What is Dust, Master Pyne?
And he reflected a little: It is particles of Matter, no doubt.
Then we are all Dust indeed, are we not?
And in a feigned Voice he murmered, For Dust thou art and shalt to Dust return. Then he made a Sour face, but only yo laugh the more.”
Peter Ackroyd, Hawksmoor


I am nothing but
Oxygen and hydrogen,
A luminous sphere of plasma
Held together by helium and gravity,
And like a balloon I float on earth,
Waiting to be released back into the sky,
Waiting to go back in the reverse direction
From which I came,
Traveling through a warm tunnel of light,
And out into a dark, cold abyss
Where I will explode into a thousand pieces.
I shall leave behind my body,
Just like air abandons the skin of
A shattered balloon,
And the magnetic dust that carries my
Heart and spirit will lift us back
To congregate and shine
With the stars.
Home again,
In the fluorescent
Kingdom of the constellations,
I will once again be called by
My soul’s true name.
And my heart,
It will flicker again,
With every memory
From its many
And with every wish
Made by a child.”
Suzy Kassem, Rise Up and Salute the Sun: The Writings of Suzy Kassem

“Everybody has a little bit of the sun and moon in them. Everybody has a little bit of man, woman, and animal in them. Darks and lights in them. Everyone is part of a connected cosmic system. Part earth and sea, wind and fire, with some salt and dust swimming in them. We have a universe within ourselves that mimics the universe outside. None of us are just black or white, or never wrong and always right. No one. No one exists without polarities. Everybody has good and bad forces working with them, against them, and within them.

PART SUN AND MOON by Suzy Kassem”
Suzy Kassem, Rise Up and Salute the Sun: The Writings of Suzy Kassem

Patricia A. McKillip
“...that once were urgent and necessary for an orderly world and now were buried away, gathering dust and of no use to anyone.”
Patricia A. McKillip, Alphabet of Thorn


He stands alone
On a vacant road,
Hands shaking from the cold.
His heart is aching from the untold.
Under his right arm
Is a tattered bag,
Which he holds tightly
As if it were filled with gold.
He’s just six,
Going on seven.
And it’s past ten,
Going on eleven.
He takes another toke
From his cowboy smoke,
And wishes he too
Could have died with his brother
And taken the ride to
His tummy rumbles and grumbles.
He feels faint and tries hard not to stumble.
His eyes scream with muted cries,
Too loud for his tired soul to conjure enough energy
To even mumble.
Little kid scared,
Alone in the middle of a war zone somewhere,
Past curfew and without a clue
As to what to do or to go where.
He is just standing there with
A shark’s glazed and
Lifeless stare.
And yet,
His eyes reveal a whirlpool of disaster,
Just another tragic kid
Who can’t help growing up any faster.
The streets are dark and it’s just him,
Standing in the shadow of a blinking ATM.
He now thinks of his worn mother,
And how she once took his torn shirt
And lovingly sewn its hem back together.
He never understood
Why she had always told him:
“Buckle your sandals!”
She used to call,
“Buckle them good
So you walk right and
Stand taller than them all!”
So why did he feel so small?
And why does he feel like he’s about to fall?
He kicks his little sandals
At the sand
Trying to understand
What Uncle Sam
And his freedom plan
Had done to his once beautiful land.
Babylon is crashing.
In front of him, memories are flashing –
Rubble, ash, blood, and dust,
An empire once fueled with beauty and gust
Now buried under artillery, bones, and rust.
In the corner of his eye,
He sees a tank suddenly appear
He tries to focus on its lights
Like a lost and rampant deer
Then that chilling electric sound
Cuts and pierces through his ears
The tank stops.
A lady emerges from its top,
And examines the boy and sneers.
She asks him what he is doing outside by himself
And warns him that there are now new rules
That all must adhere.
But Little Boy War
Glares without
A drip of fear.
He swings his precious bag high up in the air
And cries:
“I’m not alone!
My mother is in here!”
I watched from a distance
Then turn away to disappear
My heart felt like a cold rock
And I couldn’t control my tears.
Behind my back
And in my mind
The little boy’s
Words echo forever
So loud
And clear:
“In here and always near.
Her hands and heart are right here!”
Suzy Kassem, Rise Up and Salute the Sun: The Writings of Suzy Kassem

Jarod Kintz
“His shelf. Good. Noodle dust. Decaying brain collecting dust. Must insert it back in skull—what was I thinking?”
Jarod Kintz, This Book Has No Title

“I died last night. Seventy years too young.”
Colin Thompson

Lexie Syrah
“A swirl of dust and dirt picked up from the shadows that fell over everything in this grungy corner of the world. The dancing movement was hypnotizing. The sand and grit had rested long enough to have drifted into obscurity. But fate had different plans, and this gust of wind had lifted them and turned their obscure and unknown existence into a chaotic tempest of action that could not be ignored.”
Lexie Syrah, Torn: A Dark BDSM Romance Novel

Jarod Kintz
“Sure, I have nice shoes. They’re in my closet, collecting a patina of dust. My shoes were made for dancing, and that’s why they’re dusty, because my feet, unfortunately, were not made for dancing. My feet were made for making wine, and that’s why my walk is intoxicating.”
Jarod Kintz, This Book is Not FOR SALE

Jarod Kintz
“When the dust is settled, I’ll be there, wearing a maid’s outfit.”
Jarod Kintz, A Zebra is the Piano of the Animal Kingdom

Jarod Kintz
“I collect things that collect dust. Like dust jackets. Despite no fingerprints in the dust on these books, most of the dust jackets say things like, “This book is impossible to put down!” Well, apparently it’s also impossible to pick up.”
Jarod Kintz, This Book is Not FOR SALE

“Mist of the lust-for-life obnubilates the mirror, romance is reflected on.”
Junaid e Mustafa

Jarod Kintz
“If I collected dust, I wouldn’t mind if I got dust on it. My collection would grow and accumulate naturally. Probably my love would blend in with it as well, since I haven’t used it in so long.”
Jarod Kintz, This Book is Not FOR SALE

Cassandra Clare
“We are dust and shadows
~gates of the London Institute”
Cassandra Clare

“Most people lose sight that they are less than a grain of sand in the grand scheme. More see themselves as the entire beach. Many fail to see the expansive desert that surrounds it!”
Maurice O'Sullivan Aherne

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