Brushwood Quotes

No, what numbed these fields, peopled with bad dreams was not the oppressive grip of a plague but rather an ailing retreat, a sort of sad widowhood. Man had started to subdue these vacant expanses, then had grown weary of eating into it, and now even the desire to preserve what had been claimed had perished. He had established everywhere an ebb, a sorrowful withdrawal. His cuttings into the forest, which were seen at long intervals, had lost their hard edges, their distinct notches: now a thick brushwood had driven its sabbath into the broad daylight of the glades, hiding the naked trunks as high as their lowest branches. ~ Julien Gracq

Is love just a butterfly? Love can tell us so many things about the deep waters of our inner self and the secrecy in the hidden brushwood of our emotions. ("Alpha and Omega") ~ Erik Pevernagie

Pussy, it's the breakfast of champions. ~ Chloe Brushwood Rose

Let us look at the things we don't see, let us listen to the echo of the sound behind the clamor and discern the crackling in the brushwood of our emotions, so we may recognize the tokens of the heartbeats we might miss and value the quality and the bite of our life story. ("This is no chicken feed") ~ Erik Pevernagie

That is why the better part of our memories exists outside us, in a blatter of rain, in the smell of an unaired room or of the first crackling brushwood fire in a cold grate: wherever, in short, we happen upon what our mind, having no use for it, had rejected, the last treasure that the past has in store, the richest, that which, when all our flow of tears seems to have dried at the source, can make us weep again. ~ Marcel Proust

Wit is brushwood; judgment, timber; the one gives the greatest flame, the other yields the most durable heat; and both meeting make the best fire. ~ Thomas Overbury

When torpor and hesitancy are crippling us, only love has the power to breathe life into the dead brushwood of our emotions and bring back essence to existence. ("Knowing someone was waiting") ~ Erik Pevernagie

A working woman, rising before dawn to spin and needing light in her cottage room, piles brushwood on a smoldering log, and the whole heap kindled by the little brand goes up in a mighty blaze. Such was the fire of Love, stealthy but all-consuming, that swept through Medea's heart. In the turmoil of her soul, her soft cheeks turned from rose to white and white to rose. ~ Apollonius Of Rhodes

I don't regard my life
as insufficient.
Inside the brushwood gate
there is a moon;
there are flowers. ~ Ryokan

I think about our fights the day after we have them. I am sharp, witty. I kick your ass. The things I never think about until the moment's passed. Delayed. Little victories and closing summations. ~ Chloe Brushwood Rose