burn

Life is about discovering your passion and creating a fire to burn inside of you. Let your passion drive you!

I am Cinna's bird, ignited, flying frantically to escape something inescapable. The feathers of flame that grow from my body. Beating my wings only fans the blaze. I consume myself, but to no end.Finally, my wings begin to falter, I lose height, and gravity pulls me into a foamy sea the color of Finnick's eyes. I float on my back, which continues to burn beneath the water, but the agony quiets to pain. When I am adrift and unable to navigate, that's when they come. The dead.The ones I loved fly as birds in the open sky above me. Soaring, weaving, calling to me to join them. I want so badly to follow them, but the seawater saturates my wings, making it impossible to lift them. The ones I hated have taken to the water, horrible scaled things that tear my salty flesh with needle teeth. Biting again and again. Dragging me beneath the surface.The small white bird tinged in pink dives down, buries her claws in my chest, and tries to keep me afloat."No, Katniss! No! You can't go!"But the ones I hated are winning, and if she clings to me, she'll be lost as well. "Prim, let go!" And finally she does.

I wondered if the fire had been out to get me. I wondered if all fire was related, like Dad said all humans were related, if the fire that had burned me that day while I cooked hot dogs was somehow connected to the fire I had flushed down the toilet and the fire burning at the hotel. I didn__ have the answers to those questions, but what I did know was that I lived in a world that that at any moment could erupt into fire. It was the sort of knowledge that kept you on your toes.

If I burn the candles, it means not only giving you light. It means to show you the fire which I have inside.

A man of God would never burn or harm a temple of any kind - regardless of religion. A true man of God would see every temple or divine mansion built to glorify the Creator - as an extension of the temple closest to his home, regardless of its shape, size, or color. A man who truly recognizes and knows God can see God in all things.

Let's burn our masks at midnightand as flickering flames ascend,under the witness of star-clouds,let us vow to reclaim our true selves.Done with hiding and weary of lying,we'll reconcile without and within.Then, like naked squint-eyed newborns,we'll greet the glorious birth of dawn;blinking at the blazing, wondrous colorswe somehow failed to notice before.

Thank you,_ I whisper. Words I never thought I would say to her. They unsettle us both.___ou want to thank me, Barrow?_ she mutters, kicking away the last of my bindings. __hen keep your word. And let this fucking place burn._ (300)

The worst grudge is being told that you are forgiven, yet your sins are still glowing in their hearts like a burning coal.

She remembered how her heart, so tight, like a scroll, had opened when Arin kissed her. It had unfurled. If her heart were truly a scroll, she could burn it. It would become a tunnel of flame, a handful of ash. The secrets she had written inside herself would be gone. No one would know

Anna__ conclusions were these: That fire is beautifully cruel. That fusion occurs only at a specific heat. That blood, in fact, can boil. That the dissolution of an affair is an entropic reaction, and the disorder it tends toward is flammable. That a heart will burn. And burn and burn and burn.

I took him to the river and said __et__ watch something drown,_ So he took a stoneand I took my necklaceand we threw it all together,the way I always think I will get better in July. Things will change and sounds won__ acheand I gave my heart to uncertainty so many times, and so I took him to the river,threw the necklace in the river to slowly watch it drown, or burn, or fade awaylike I__e done so many times.

Don't ask me why am I not fine, don't say a word just come and hug me. Even if I don't hug you back at that very moment, don't let me go. Hug me more tightly, let me hear your heart beating for me, let me feel the warmth of you inside your arms when your hand is rubbing my back and your fingers are moving through my hair, burn down all my insecurities with your love.

No Student can stand the Gruel of Sports Training unless she has a Passion for Fame.

Sometimes I just want to paint the words "It's my fault" across my forehead to save people the time of being pissed off at me.

When has been disappointed for so long, hope becomes the enemy. One cannot be dashed to the earth unless one is lifted first, and I learned to avoid hope.

If the inner [intent] is not spoilt, it means __ur Own Self_ did not spoilt. That which has become spoilt on the outside will burn in the funeral pyre; whether it improves or not.

I will continue to exist in all these little moments. where we took the first dip of love and my heart skipped a beat. Our first walk, the first touch which burnt my soul, that first rain, the first kiss, the first comfortable silence between us. How many years may pass, Whenever I am sitting near the window and its raining or whenever I am sitting by a fireside and its cold, There will always be a piece of me which reminds me of you. It will stay in this moment forever.

He sat beside the window in the dark, with his eyes closed. Hearing to the sound of the rain. The whisky in his glass burnt his throat, while the smoke of his cigarette filled his lungs and the fire inside his heart consumed his soul slowly.