My pipe is out, my glass is dry; My fire is almost ashes too; But once again, before you go, And I prepare to meet the New; Old Year! a parting word that's true, For we've been comrades, you and I-- I thank God for each day of you; There! bless you now! Old Year, good-bye!
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I am but as the spark that gleams for a moment,
His burning candle consumed me - the moth;
His wine overwhelmed my goblet,
The master of Rum transmuted my earth to gold
And set my ashes aflame.
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So you think you can tell heaven from hell - blue skies from pain? Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail, a smile from a veil? Do you think you can tell? Did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts - hot ashes for trees, hot air for a cool breeze, cold comfort for change? Did you exchange a walk-on part in a war for a lead role in a cage?
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I would rather be ashes than dust! I would rather that my spark would burn out in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by dry rot. I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet. The proper function of man is to live, not to exist. I shall not waste my days in trying to prolong them. I shall use my time.
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When by the Ruins oft I past My sorrowing eyes aside did cast And here and there the places spy Where oft I sate and long did lie. Here stood that Trunk, and there that chest, There lay that store I counted best, My pleasant things in ashes lie And them behold no more shall I. Under the roof no guest shall sit, Nor at thy Table eat a bit. No pleasant talk shall 'ere be told Nor things recounted done of old. No Candle 'ere shall shine in Thee, Nor bridegroom's voice ere heard shall bee. In silence ever shalt thou lie.
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The phoenix hope, can wing her way through the desert skies, and still defying fortune's spite; revive from ashes and rise.
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In the cold change which time hath wrought on love (The snowy winter of his summer prime), Should a chance sigh or sudden tear-drop move Thy heart to memory of the olden time; Turn not to gaze on me with pitying eyes, Nor mock me with a withered hope renewed; But from the bower we both have loved, arise And leave me to my barren solitude! What boots it that a momentary flame Shoots from the ashes of a dying fire? We gaze upon the hearth from whence it came, And know the exhausted embers must expire: Therefore no pity, or my heart will break; Be cold, be careless--for thy past love's sake!
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Then out spake brave Horatius, The Captain of the Gate: To every man upon this earth Death cometh soon or late. And how can man die better Than facing fearful odds, For the ashes of his fathers, And the temples of his Gods.
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The world is eaten up by boredom. You can't see it all at once. It is like dust. You go about and never notice, you breathe it in, you eat and drink it. It is sifted so fine, it doesn't even grit on your teeth. But stand still for an instant and there it is, coating your face and hands. To shake off this drizzle of ashes you must be for ever on the go. And so people are always on the go.
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We too are ashes as we watch and hear The psalm, the sorrow, and the simple praise...
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Mark how fleeting and paltry is the estate of man--yesterday in embryo, tomorrow a mummy or ashes. So for the hairsbreadth of time assigned to thee, live rationally, and part with life cheerfully, as drops the ripe olive, extolling the season that bore it and the tree that matured it.
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I would rather be ashes than dust! I would rather that my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by dry-rot. I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet. The function of man is to live, not to exist. I shall not waste my days trying to prolong them. I shall use my time.
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Man is a noble animal, splendid in ashes, and pompous in the grave.
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All that is gold does not glitter, not all who wander are lost, the old that are strong do not wither, deep roots are not reached by the frost. From the ashes a fire shall be woken, a light from the shadows shall spring, renewed shall be blade that is broken, the crownless again shall be king.
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I would rather be ashes than dust. I would rather that my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by a dryrot. I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in a magnificient glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet.
The proper function of man is to live, not to exist. I shall not waste my days trying to prolong them. I shall use my time.
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I would rather be ashes than dust I would rather that my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by dry-rot. I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet. The proper function of man is to live, not to exist. I shall not waste my days in trying to prolong them. I shall use my time.
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We therefore commit his body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in sure and certain hope of the Resurrection.
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'Little bug-lady, little lady who is a bug. If you are not my friend i can squash you like the bug you are, little bug. Little bug. I'll pull your legs off, lady bug. Lady bug. Fly away home your house is on fire, your children will burn. Ashes ashes we all fall down!' ~Clanbook Malkavian
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I tell you the past is a bucket of ashes.
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Pale were your looks; and the rose in your tresses Paler of hue than the dreams we have lost; Who, then I said, is it sees or who guesses, Here in the hall, that I dance with a ghost? Gone! And the dance and the music are ended. Gone! And the rapture dies out of the skies. And, on my arm, in her elegance splendid, The woman of fashion smiles up in my eyes. Had I forgotten? and did you remember? You, who are dead, whom I cannot forget; You, for whose sake all my heart is an ember Covered with ashes of dreams and regret.
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As the kindled fire consumes the fuel, so in the flame of wisdom the embers of action are burnt to ashes.
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Fighting fire with fire only gets you ashes!
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Fight fire with fire, and all you'll end up with is ashes.
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We've persevered because of a belief we share with the Iraqi people - a belief that out of the ashes of war, a new beginning could be born in this cradle of civilization. Through this remarkable chapter in the history of the United States and Iraq, we have met our responsibility. Now, it's time to turn the page.
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And the shadow fell upon the Land, and the World was riven stone from stone. The oceans fled, and the mountains were swallowed up, and the nations were scattered to the eight corners of the world. The moon was as blood, and the sun was as ashes. The seas boiled, and the living envied the dead.
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People who fight fire with fire usually end up with ashes.
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When I die, I would like to be cremated and have my ashes put into the 'Mr.Coffee' machine. Brew up a cup of 'Joe.' It would one be stiff drink.
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Scatter my ashes, strew them in the air: Lord since thou know'st where all these atoms are,...
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And I set my face unto the Lord God, to seek by prayer and supplication, with fasting, and sackcloth, and ashes. (Daniel 9:3)
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But Life will suit Itself to Sorrow's most detested fruit, Like to the apples on the Dead Sea's shore, All ashes to the taste
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