ashes

. . . Like ashes of gold in a cinnamon-flame,My youthful desires have been burnt with the years_ And tonight in the chilling sunset-windA cicada, singing, weighs on my heart.

Sometimes even doing the right thing will leave you with scars. But beauty comes from ashes, too. And I know that to be true.

All things of grace and beauty such that one holds them to one's heart have a common provenance in pain. Their birth in grief and ashes.

A true love is never defeated.Even when in ashes,it whirls and finds solace with air

The day when the fire that we had lit in our minds reaches our hearts, we will start turning every person that we come in contact with into ashes. We become the ghosts that we always feared.

Write down everything you fear in life.Burn it.Pour herbal oil with a sweet scent on the ashes.

Ashes have no fear to burn in hellIn your heart's paradise angels dwellRib cage fastens all sins of the wrongYour bones will sing you mortality__ song

When you can share the lessons you learnt through tears and heartache and others find life in it and are better off for it, then beauty has come out of those ashes.

I think one can tell a lot about a person from the way he chooses to let the stub of his cigarette burn out...

Without peace, all other dreams vanish and are reduced to ashes.

I also remember being struck by de Sade's will, in which he asked that his ashes be scattered to the four corners of the earth in the hope that humankind would forget both his writings and his name. I'd like to be able to make that demand; commemorative ceremonies are not only false but dangerous, as are all statues of famous men. Long live forgetfulness, I've always said__he only dignity I see is in oblivion.

Smoke your pain but keep the ashes forever.

She stood above the sink and broke the Swarovski glass frame _ a wedding gift _ with her hands. Her thumb got cut. As blood drops fell into the sink, like mercury balls she thought, she lit the photo on fire. Ashes fell into the sink. Fire and vermilion. Ashes and blood. Her marriage from start to finish.

It was the damnedest thing, life. Once you decide exactly how things are going to go, something or someone comes along and messes it all up.

The road to Manderley lay ahead. There was no moon. The sky above our heads was inky black. But the sky on the horizon was not dark at all. It was shot with crimson, like a splash of blood. And the ashes blew towards us with the salt wind from the sea.

Bury us, and mark our names above. Let us be free.

When I am dead, I charge you to mingle our ashes and bury us together.

The fire which seems extinguished often slumbers beneath the ashes.