Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Corrodes. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Corrodes Quotes And Sayings by 92 Authors including Leonardo Da Vinci,Gertrude Atherton,Ming-Dao Deng,Susan Dennard,Marcus Aurelius for you to enjoy and share.
Iron rusts from disuse, stagnant water loses its purity, and in cold weather becomes frozen; even so does inaction sap the vigors of the mind.
Nothing in life is more corroding than habit.
A moving door hinge never corrodes. Flowing water never grows stagnant.
Iron might weep, but it did not break.
The rottenness of the matter which is the foundation of everything!
Foul cankering rust the hidden treasure frets, but gold that's put to use more gold begets.
It's better to burn out than it is to rust.
If you find the mirror of the heart dull, the rust has not been cleared from its face.
But when oxidation nibbles more slowly - more delicately, like a tortoise - at the world around us, without a flame, we call it rust and we sometimes scarcely notice as it goes about its business consuming everything from hairpins to whole civilizations.
Gold and silver from the dead turn often into lead.
Gold can gild a rotten stick, and dirt sully an ingot.
Gold mould as if blisters of the body can become precious metals.
Concrete can rot. It turns green and black before crumbling away.
Maybe only people from Congo know that.
I don't drink water. Have you seen the way it rusts pipes?
I set down a beautiful chord on paper - and suddenly it rusts.
And the rest is rust and stardust.
To the man who is afraid everything rustles.
You know, rust is just oxidation. The same chemical process as fire. Oxygen interacts with steel, electrons drift from one element to the other. So really, rust is a slow fire. Isn't that weird? Water causes something to burn.
We must all either wear out or rust out, every one of us. My choice is to wear out.
If gold rust, what then will iron do?/ For if a priest be foul in whom we trust/ No wonder that a common man should rust ...
When a New Yorker looks like he has a suntan, it's probably rust.
The rottenness comes from within.
When the thinking of a people becomes corrupt, the pure silver becomes impure in its hands.
Gold
what can it not do, and undo?
Drink and dissipation had done their work on the coin-clean profile and now it was no longer the head of a young pagan prince on new-minted gold but a decadent, tired Caesar on copper debased by long usage.
While the alchemist of old sought to turn lead into gold, the modern alchemist has a more noble dream: to turn men from rot to rock
It must not be thought that gold can be injured by rust, or virtue by baseness.
There is a polish for everything that takes away rust, and the polish for the heart is the remembrance of God.
disintegrated. Does
I would rather burn out than rust out.
of lead, sometimes
The blood of too many, dissolving the very stain.
If you don't run, you rust.
A man who dips his sword in every well soon finds it spotted with rust,
If you polish things too much, it loses the feeling.
Things are so vulnerable to the humiliations of decay.
No span of steel will tolerate ... neglect. But if service by generations who use it and spared manmade hazards, such as war, it should have life without end.
It is difficult not to wonder whether that combination of elements which produces a machine for labor does not create also a soul of sorts, a dull resentful metallic will, which can rebel at times.
This extraordinary metal, the soul of every manufacture, and the mainspring perhaps of civilised society. Of iron.
Gold and iron at the present day, as in ancient times, are the rulers of the world; and the great events in the world of mineral art are not the discovery of new substances, but of new and rich localities of old ones.
Never have the world's moneys been so long cut off from their metallic roots.
We are bound to expire. Even metal which is sturdiest, rusts. Even oxygen, the breath of life, soon transpires.
You come ready to work when you know that you are going to get a couple of gos and it. It kind of galvanizes everything and there is something about it that keeps it very alive.
The steel reddens, warming under Cal's fiery touch, and bits of the gilded hilt melt between his fingers. Gold and silver and iron, dripping from his hands like tears.
Most people rust out due to lack of challenge. Few people rust out due to overuse.
Seeped into his bones from decades of sitting outdoors in
Worry ... is rust upon the blade.
Constant dripping hollows out a stone.
Seek the tarnish and you shall find
Jaded. I never understood the term. Jade is pretty and worth something, yes? I was rusted if I was anything. Too long in the rain. Going out in an orange blaze of muted, anonymous, common-as-dirt oxidation.
Aluminium's sixty-year reign as the world's most precious substance was glorious, but soon an American chemist ruined everything.
All compounded things are subject to decay. Strive with diligence!
I write these words in steel, for anything not set in metal cannot be trusted.
My grandmother used to tell us a story of a mountain of loadstone. When any vessels came near it, they were instantly deprived of their ironwork: the nails flew to the mountain, and the unhappy crew perished amidst the disjointed planks.
Sawdust in the gear-boxes, the electric-drill on the speedometer cables,
All frauds, like the wall daubed with untempered mortar ... always tend to the decay of what they are devised to support.
There is something in corruption which, like a jaundiced eye, transfers the color of itself to the object it looks upon, and sees everything stained and impure.
The walls are cracked and water runs upon them within threads without sound, black and glistening as blood.
Quiet this metal! Let the manes put off their terror, let them put off their aqueous bodies with fire. Let them assume the milk-white bodies of agate. Let them draw together the bones of the metal.
I might have preferred iron, but bronze will do. It won't rust. And, this time I hope, the head will stay on.
Of all things broken and lost, porcelain troubles me most.
I never drink water; that is the stuff that rusts pipes.
The folly of humankind is that it believes it is impervious to decay
The earth yields up her stores, of every ill
The instigators; iron, foe to man,
And gold, than iron deadlier.
While parchment may burn and gold may be stained or melted down, the things that are truly important to us will never lose their value.
Brass shines with constant usage, a beautiful dress needs wearing,
Leave a house empty, it rots.
Just as iron rusts from disuse, even so does inaction spoil the intellect.
I have every expectation that we will see the following become a recognized human disease in the future: Metal Sickness
Her halo was never gold, or it couldn't have rusted so completely.
But, on the other hand, the occasional and precarious dripping of coppers has by no means a genial effect.
From bells to cannons and back again, from now until the end of time. Such is the fate of iron ore.
Oxidation, I never tire of reminding myself, is what happens when oxygen attacks.
Rust rust rust in the engines of love and time
Who can understand the deeply bonded alloy of order and intemperance that is its foundation?
The world is an old woman, and mistakes any gilt farthing for a gold coin; whereby being often cheated, she will thenceforth trust nothing but the common copper.
This relentless bonhomie of yours, I knew it would wear out in the end. It is a coin that has changed hands so often. And now the small silver is worn out and we see the base metal.
Princes and sovereign states have frequently fancied that they had a temporary interest to diminish the quantity of pure metal contained in their coins; but they seldom have fancied that they had any to augment it.
Water continually dropping will wear hard rocks hollow.
Iron rusts from disuse; water loses its purity from stagnation ... even so does inaction sap the vigor of the mind.
Iron was black and sheenless, but cleansing and polishing washed away its blackness.
Cracked. The tub was as old as God and pitted. There
Steel is forged by fire...
Reader, pray that soon this Iron Age Will crumble, and Beauty escape the rusting cage.
Beneath the gold, the bitter steel.
The best steel doesn't always shine the brightest.
We are overdone with banking institutions, which have banished the precious metals, and substituted a more fluctuating and unsafe medium ... These have withdrawn capital from useful improvements and employments to nourish idleness ... These are evils more easily to be deplored than remedied.
Nothing lasts forever, but old Fords and a natural stone.
It might otherwise appear paradoxical that money can be replaced by worthless paper; but that the slightest alloying of its metallic content depreciates it.
Be careful to be gentle, lest in removing the rust, you break the whole instrument.
Everything wooden swells and shrinks, and the nails in everything wooden, the floors and baseboards and window casings, the nails inch out and rust. Everywhere there are rusted nails to step on or snag your elbow on, and there's only one bathroom for the seven
When depreciated, mutilated, or debased coinage (or currency) is in concurrent circulation with money of high value in terms of precious metals, the good money automatically disappears.
Metallic trees. That's new. If you see any steel dryads, be sure to tell me so I can run away screaming.
No man can stand still; the moment progress is not made, retrogression begins. If the blade is not kept sharp and bright, the law of rust will assert its claim.
Burned over water.
but, as we know, even when the silver wears away and you're left with copper, if you attend to it every day it has a gleam all its own.
It takes a certain maturity of mind to accept that nature works as steadily in rust as in rose petals.
There is a crack in everything
Gold wrapped old crap.
I have legs of iron, but to tell you the truth, they're starting to rust and buckle a bit.
Steel is not forged in a comfortable place.