Quotessence
Home / Quotes / Quote by John D Smith

Quote by John D Smith

“Like numerous river-currents that rush towards the one ocean, those heroes of the world of men enter your flaming mouths; like moths that fly ever faster to destroy themselves in a blazing flame, the worlds hurry ever faster to their destruction in your mouths. With your flaming jaws you lap up complete worlds and devour them whole; your terrible splendours fill the entire universe with fiery energy till it is scorched, O Visnu.”

Quote by John D Smith

Work

The butchers' manual 1890 [Leather Bound]

Browse quotes and source details for this work. more

Author

John D Smith

Browse famous quotes and profile details for John D Smith. more

You May Also Like

“Like numerous river-currents that rush towards the one ocean, those heroes of the world of men enter your flaming mouths; like moths that fly ever faster to destroy themselves in a blazing flame, the worlds hurry ever faster to their destruction in your mouths. With your flaming jaws you lap up complete worlds and devour them whole; your terrible splendours fill the entire universe with fiery energy till it is scorched, O Vishnu.”

“whenever I put the headset on now," he'd continued, "I really do understand what I find there. When those kids sing about 'she loves you,' yeah well, you know, she does, she's any number of people, all over the world, back through time, different colors, sizes, ages, shapes, distances from death, but she loves. And the 'you' is everybody. And herself. Oedipa, the human voice, you know, it's a flipping miracle." His eyes brimming, reflecting the color of beer.”

“Let no one lie to you. Success is not taboo. You can overcome the odds against you and make your dreams come true. The world is waiting for someone like you. Thrive and do what you must do. Go ahead and show them the successful you.”

“Ach, es war die grausame Ironie, die in alldem lag - das liebliche Mädchen, das, mit Blumen geschmückt, so blühend aussah wie im Leben, sodass einer nach dem anderen seine Zweifel äußerste, ob sie denn wirklich tot sei. Sie lag in dem schönen Mamorhaus da draußen auf dem einsamen Friedhof, wo schon so viele ihres Geschlechtes ruhen, lag dort mit ihrer Mutter, die sie liebte und die von ihr geliebt wurde, und die Totenglocke klang so traurig und leise. Und jene heiligen Männer mit den Engelsgewändern, die scheinbar aus den Büchern vorlasen und doch keinen Augenblick auf deren Seiten sahen, und dazu wir alle mit tief gebeugtem Haupt. Und wofür das alles? Sie ist tot, Ende!”