Quotessence
Home / Topics / Sparks Quotes

Sparks Quotes

Browse 841 quotes about Sparks.

Related topics

Sparks Quotes

“When we feel betrayed by the vagaries of life, and our wet dreams turn out to be nightmares, let us keep eyes wide open and look for the sparks in the glance of the people. They not only can share a shard of oxytocin but also inspire us to appreciate the fragrance of the ordinary things we have ignored for so long. (“A handful of dust”)”

“Come, fly with me!" cried the goddess, as she sped ahead of them, her extremities flaming with a comet tail of sparks in the supernatural wind. Her bubbling voice again echoed, her laughter bounced in the crystalline void, and she flew onward, unto eternity.... "Stop!" cried Elasirr. "Come back with us to the true world, O Tilirreh!" At which the orange one laughed, throwing her head back, saying, "Oh, but don’t you know this is the one true world? It is but yours that is a pale specter, that is the dying place of dwindling truth?" "Then come back with us, lady," whispered Ranhé, "and restore the truth as it once was.”

“There was a lot about Kim and J.P. he didn't get.... he was confused by their lack of romance. As a father, he was at times grateful for that missing intensity, but as a man who liked to surprise his wife with flowers, it baffled him. Maybe he was old-fashioned, but to him a couple meant a strong bond, with positive and negative charges constantly arcing between them. He'd never seen Kim and J.P. kiss, let alone argue.”

“October's Double by Stewart Stafford Light a fire in flinty February, As the evening time comes down, Welcome all the family home With shopping bought from town. Hear the logs crackle and roll, And the sparks pop and hiss, A storm roars down the chimney, To deliver its tempestuous kiss. Drowsiness in the living room, As the expiring embers fade, Up we go to those clean sheets, And beds so neatly made. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.”

“If we treasure meditation and don’t mind being taken off guard at every bend of our life, we can experience all privileged moments like sparks springing from the intangible fairyland of our mind’s eye. (“The rabbit hole of Meditation”)”

“What was it about this man and his presence? When Thomas touched her, the dance took on a new quality it had not had with William. While she had been nervous at the closeness between their bodies when his brother led the waltz, Thomas provoked other sensations entirely. William exuded a sense of safety. His presence was unfamiliar, but stolid. Even comforting. But Thomas… Everything about Thomas screamed danger to Claire. Yet she was mesmerized.”

“Even the girl he'd danced with had thought it was some marvelous trick. She had been enveloped in real, bright fire and she had tipped back her head and laughed, the tumble of her black hair becoming a crackling waterfall of light, the heels of her shoes striking sparks like glittering leaping dust all over the floor, her skirt trailing flame as if he were following a phoenix tail. Magnus had spun and swung with her, and she'd thought he was marvelous for a single moment of bright illusion. But, like love, fire didn't last.”

“Прохладный воздух покалывал кожу, небо переливалось разными красками – черное, как уголь, прямо над головой, ближе к горизонту оно синело, голубело и наконец, касаясь земли, становилось серым. Ной глубоко вдохнул аромат сосен и солоноватой воды и задумался. Вот по чему он скучал больше всего, живя на севере. Там он слишком много работал и слишком мало бывал у воды. Походы, прогулки, свидания, работа… Как только выдавалось свободное время, Ной покидал город и обошел немало мест в Нью-Джерси, но поплавать на лодке не удалось ни разу. Поэтому, вернувшись домой, он первым делом кинулся к реке. В рассвете на реке есть что-то особенное, почти мистическое. Именно здесь Ной встречал почти каждый новый день, не важно – солнечный и ясный или хмурый и холодный. Наклоняясь над стальной поверхностью воды, он греб ритмично, в такт звенящей в душе мелодии, и встречал то семью черепах, отдыхающих на полузатопленном бревне, то цаплю, взмывающую в небо, – перебирая ногами прямо по поверхности воды, она отрывалась от нее и исчезала в серебристой предрассветной дымке. Ной выгреб на середину потока и увидел, как по речной глади разливается оранжевый свет солнца. Он остановился, легкими гребками удерживаясь на месте, чтобы не снесло течением, и посмотрел на верхушки деревьев, подсвеченные утренними лучами. Ему всегда нравилось останавливаться вот так, в момент зарождения нового дня, и смотреть, как расцветает мир – словно каждый раз рождается заново. Ной снова с силой заработал веслами, прогоняя ночную вялость и встречая утро.”

“The closest I’ve come to sparks flying at my writing hangout was when an elderly man’s portable oxygen tubes fell off his face while he was reaching for a piece of pie. I bent over to pick them up for him, and when I attempted to hand them over, our fingers brushed, and I felt a gust of air blow right between my legs. The moment was ruined when I looked down to see that I had yanked the tubes out of the tank, and it was blowing fresh O2 right in my special place.”

“Emotion is ‘recognition’. When treasured moments are identified in the jungle of our personal history during a visual or aural encounter, we capture magic sparks from our past, arousing flashes of insight and revealing an inner flare. These instants of recognition may kindle enthralling emotion and fulfilling inspiration. (“Those journeys of love”)”

“But that I know love is begun by time, And that I see, in passages of proof, Time qualifies the spark and fire of it. There lives within the very flame of love A kind of wick or snuff that will abate it, And nothing is at a like goodness still; For goodness, growing to a pleurisy, Dies in his own too-much. That we would do We should do when we would. For this 'would' changes, And hath abatements and delays as many As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents. And then this 'should' is like a spendthrift sigh, That hurts by easing.”