Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Dust. 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 Dust Quotes And Sayings by 93 Authors including James Joyce,Jack Kerouac,Robert W. Service,Anthony Doerr,Viola Meynell for you to enjoy and share.
Dust webbed the window and the showtrays. Dust darkened the toiling fingers with their vulture nails. Dust slept on dull coils of bronze and silver, lozenges of cinnabar, on rubies, leprous and winedark stones.
Houses are full of things that gather dust
Dirt is just matter out of place.
Dust floats through the feeble beam of the flashlight: ten thousand particles, turning softly, twinkling.
The dust comes secretly day after day, Lies on my ledge and dulls my shining things. But O this dust I shall drive away Is flowers and kings, Is Solomon's temple, poets, Nineveh.
Dirt is matter in the wrong place.
I'm full of dust and guitars...
Dust particles panicked and swarmed in the light.
We do not start as dust.
We do not end as dust.
We make more than dust.
That's all we ask of you.
Make more than dust
What grain of dust can be easier carried by your life's emptiness wind than the knowledge?
What I thought was a sea of dust is an ocean of death.
DUST includes rarities, demos, unreleased songs and instrumentals, live recordings, and more.
But what thrilled me most was the fact that millions of meteors burn up every day as they enter our atmosphere. As a result, Earth receives ten tons of dust from outer space. Not only do we take in the world with each breath, we are inhaling the universe. We are made of stardust.
King Uthil says steel is the answer. I say his sight is short. Dust is the last answer to every question, now and always.
It's as if the whole world was fire and crystal and aquiver
with some sort of cotton wrappers thrown over it."
"Dust sheets," said Marjorie. "I know.
Dust and dark married, creating a pillow to smother hard on our faces.
We are dust and to dust we shall return.
The dust of my dreams swim spiced incense smoke.
A layer of fine powder coats his skin.
"My lungs are turning to concrete," Rob wheezes, hacking and spitting.
"So are my eyes. How do I always get roped into these things?" Avery coughs and pats Rob's back in sympathy. A poof of dust billows from the contact.
dirt, but the machine began to make
Masai and elephants. The rest is dust.
My dear, my dearest dust; I come, I come.
The neon dust falls slowly, filtering through the stone canyons, settling on hats and fire hydrants, collecting on delicatessen awnings, filling the shopping carts and rickety baby carriages of the rag pickers with soft powdery snow.
I'm covered with loser dust.
Shroud of dust now covers the beautiful earth, wonder when we respire in the fresh air of verdure.
You make beautiful things, You make beautiful things out of the dust
Inside the treasury of the dharma eye a single grain of dust.
We are dust and shadows
Knowledge was like a mouthful of dust.
Dust motes swirled in the air like tiny orbs of rainbows.
We are all dust and shadows
The dust returns to the ground it came from, and the spirit returns to God who gave it.
I swear dust wouldn't have the nerve to land on their floors or counters.
We are of dust from the stars.
Hee that blowes in the dust fills his eyes with it.
The indecipherable dust, once Shakespeare.
Few people realise the immensity of vacancy in which the dust of the material universe swims.
Dust rises at every step, fine as flour. It is dried river silt, that dust. Add water, and the soil is so fertile that you could plant a pencil and harvest a book.
The varicolored cloud dust that the sun has stirred up in the sky was settling by slow degrees.
We're constantly moving dust from one place to another, only to have it replaced by more dust - entropy always wins.
We can see the Divine in each speck of dust, but that doesn't stop us from wiping it away with a wet sponge. The Divine doesn't disappear; it's transformed into the clean surface.
Some people say about human beings, 'Dust to dust'.
But how can that be true of one
who changes road dust to doorway?
The crop appears to be one thing
when it is still in the field.
Then the transformation time comes,
and we see how it is: half chaff, half grain.
Dust as we are, the immortal spirit grows Like harmony in music; there is a dark Inscrutable workmanship that reconciles Discordant elements, makes them cling together In one society.
This little patch of earth and this little pile of stones I can wash the dust from off my face and skin But this earth is in my bones
And I know now that all the time I was trying to get
out of the dust,
the fact is,
what I am,
I am because of the dust.
And what I am is good enough.
Even for me.
I always knew I was a dust. But I never knew I was also a universe.
Dust and literature have always gone hand in hand.
He could see tiny particles of dust drifting in the air between her ankles, each fleck tumbling individually in and out of the sunlight, and there was something intensely familiar in their arrangement.
It's evening, one of those gray water-color washes, like liquid dust.
Broken glass. It's just like glitter, isn't it?
Just like dust, we settle in this town.
He imagined the gazelles raising the dry dust
Like soft brush floating on the crests of sand.
There's not enough dust to cloud our love for freedom.
But for all the feet that had trodden it, it remained ordinary dust, which seemed to make everything much sadder.
There's no smoke without mud being flung around.
Imagine one atom of that speck of dust, with electrons traveling around its nucleus at 180,000 miles per second. It is very exciting. To return to a speck of dust with be quite an exciting adventure!
A piece of space-dust falls on your head once every day ... With every breath, we inhale a bit of the story of our universe, our planet's past and future, the smells and stories of the world around us, even the seeds of life.
We are formed by dust, when life ends, we shall we return as dust to the ground.
What was scattered, gathers.
What was gathered, blows away
Sooner or later everything will turn to dust - except love
Hope you're keeping the dust out of your eyes and your feet off the ground.
You are a dust with beautiful spirit.
Most of the things we spend our lives chasing will turn to dust in the end.
New York City is where specks of dust aspire randomly with all their cunning to become grains of sand.
Interplanetary dust, I repeated, liking the feel of the words on my tongue.
a handful of crumpled stars
There is dust enough on some of your Bibles to write 'damnation' with your fingers.
Then the dust will return to the earth as it was, and the spirit will return to God who gave it.
Compared to what is stirring in the galaxy, you and I are little more than motes of dust.
The spirit looks upon the Dust
That fastened it so long
With indignation,
As a Bird
Defrauded of it's Song.
If I take dust in my hand and ask you if that is all the dust there is, you will answer that dust is everywhere on earth. More specks than can ever be numbered. So I can give you a handful of truth only. Besides this there are other truths. More than can ever be numbered.
What a tiny speck of dust I am compared to the rest of this universe.
Dust into Dust, and under Dust to lie, Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and-sans End!
Dust jackets are always something of an enigma to me.
In streams of light I clearly saw
The dust you seldom see,
Out of which the Nameless makes
A Name for one like me ...
All busy in the sunlight
The flecks did float and dance,
And I was tumbled up with them
In formless circumstance.
Unknowingly, we plow the dust of stars,
blown about us by the wind, and drink the
universe in a glass of rain.
Every particle of dust on a patch of earth
Was a sun-cheek or brow of the morning star;
Shake the dust off your sleeve carefully
That too was a delicate, fair face.
Cinders. Embers. Ashes.
Noise creates dusty air in the mind!
Smoke and dust hanging over the city like the hand of an angry God
The day I leave the power, inside my pockets will only be dust.
where there are priests, there is fear of Dust.
I realize the dust we return to is not the same dust from which we come. It is not that we come from ashes and nothingness and return to the same ashes and nothingness. The dust we return to has history. The ashes we become were touched, inscribed, detailed, adorned. They glowed.
Like all high-Lammers, I am a lucky accident of birth, gifted with a talent that can be expanded by something as simple as a mineral. A mineral unfortunately rare and extremely addictive. This - this dust - rules our lives. Sometimes I wonder if it would be better had there been no magic at all.
Our perception is our window to the world, and we need to wipe the dust off of our window often so we can continue to see through it clearly.
Magnitude -15 A drifting mote of dust coming to rest on a table Sometimes it's nice not to destroy the world for a change.
The dust will not settle in our time. And when it does some great roaring machine will come and whirl it all skyhigh again.
Dusting is a good example of the futility of trying to put things right. As soon as you dust, the fact of your next dusting has already been established.
A thin layer of dust covered everything, and I doubted anyone had been in the room for decades. I have a vast weakness for secret things.
Everything she touched either crumbled to dust or dissolved into a powder that gave off spores. The
We have first raised a dust and then complain we cannot see.
Mean and mighty, rotting Together, have one dust.
When a man dies he kicks the dust.
stuff and nonsense
I love a Dustbuster. You go around, pick up little crumbs, and everything is nice again.
The object of powder is powder.
The dust that fell unnoted as a dew,
Wrapped the dead city's face like mummy-cloth
We are a blend of dust and divinity.
I'd rather be ashes than dust
Sand, which didn't even have a form of it's own. Yet, not a single thing could stand against this shapeless, destructive power. The very fact that it had no form was doubtless the highest manifestation of its strenght, was it not?