Wick Quotes

Idly, Wick wondered if he should feel insulted. Then he decided there really wasn't any room for considering an insult with all the fear running rampant in his mind. Maybe he was quiet on the outside, but he knew he was running around screaming inside his thoughts. ~ Mel Odom

There is no such thing as an artist: there is only the world lit or unlit as the light allows. When the candle is burning, who looks at the wick? When the candle is out, who needs it? ~ Annie Dillard

Higher LOVE has a mirror image...have you looked into it lately? When the wick of your soul is lit by love, it can magnify its purity, and diamond-like clarity; fired true to its perfection, in flawless reflection of affinity, and traceless etchings upon the heart, by detailed fingerprints of divinity. ~ Tracey Bond

Now that is a sword," Freddy said in awe as he went to look at an impressive saber hanging from the hat rack near the door.
"Stay away from it," she cautioned. "I'm sure it's sharper than yours."
As usual, Freddy ignored her. "Just think what I could do with this," he said as he lifted it off its hook.
"So far I haven't seen you do anything with a sword, my boy," Oliver remarked dryly. "Though I shudder to think what your cousin would attempt."
Maria glared at Oliver, which only made him laugh. Meanwhile, Freddy unsheathed the saber with a flourish.
"Curse it, Freddy, put it back," Maria ordered.
"What a fine piece of steel." Freddy swished it through the air. "Even the one Uncle Adam gave me isn't near so impressive."
Maria appealed to Oliver. "Do something, for pity's sake. Make him stop."
"And get myself skewered for the effort? No, thank you. Let the pup have his fun."
Freddy cast him a belligerent glance. "You wouldn't call me a pup if I came at you with this."
"No, I'd call you insane," Oliver drawled. "But you're welcome to try and see what happens."
Don't encourage him," Maria told Oliver.
The door opened suddenly, and Freddy whirled with the sword in hand, knocking a lamp off the desk. As the glass chimney shattered, spilling oil in a wide arc, the wick lit the lot, and fire sprang to life.
Maria jumped back with a cry of alarm while Oliver leaped out of his chair to stamp it out, first with his boots a ~ Sabrina Jeffries

He's so full of alcohol, if you put a lighted wick in his mouth he'd burn for three days. ~ Groucho Marx

When Enebeli Okwara sent his girl out in the world, he did not know what the world did to daughters. He did not know how quickly it would wick the dew off her, how she would be returned to him hollowed out, relieved of her better parts. ~ Lesley Nneka Arimah

History repeating itself is history's oldest story. ~ Steve Wick

Like most men, Wick could not help terror about one thing erupting as anger about something else. ~ Jeff VanderMeer

What binds a wife to her husband is neither magic, nor a priest, nor love! What makes this possible is only silver coins! A woman's heart is like a candle, my friend. As long as the money wick keeps burning, her heart stays warm. But when the wick burns down, her love is extinguished! ~ Mehmet Murat Ildan

Perhaps only I could truly make Wick a person, by forgiving him, and if I forgave him, if I showed I forgave him, then maybe we could be people together. ~ Jeff VanderMeer

A bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out, till he leads justice to victory. Matthew 12:20 ~ Thomas Watson

Sorry, I just want a quick little summary of what you do."

Wick chuckled. "He already knows you're long-winded, mate."

Dov glared at him. "I'm sorry?"

Wick's smile split his face as he bumped his colleague with his shoulder and then turned to me. ~ Mary Calmes

[Crisco] ain't just for frying. You ever get a sticky something stuck in your hair,like gum? ... That's right, Crisco. Spread this on a baby's bottom, you won't even know what diaper rash is ... shoot, I seen ladies rub it under they eyes and on they husband's scaly feet ... Clean the goo from a price tag, take the squeak out a door hinge. Lights get cut off, stick a wick in it and burn it like a candle ... And after all that, it'll still fry your chicken. ~ Kathryn Stockett

On this material plane, each living being is like a street lantern lamp with a dirty lampshade.

The inside flame burns evenly and is of the same quality as all the rest - hence all of us are equal in the absolute sense, the essence, in the quality of our energy.

However, some of the lamps are "turned down" and having less light in them, burn fainter, (the beings have a less defined individuality, are less in tune with the universal All which is the same as the Will) - hence all of us are unequal in a relative sense, some of us being more aware (human beings), and others being less aware (animal beings), with small wills and small flames.

The lampshades of all are stained with the clutter of the material reality or the physical world.

As a result, it is difficult for the light of each lamp to shine through to the outside and it is also difficult to see what is on the other side of the lampshade that represents the external world (a great thick muddy ocean of fog), and hence to "feel" a connection with the other lantern lamps (other beings).

The lampshade is the physical body immersed in the ocean of the material world, and the limiting host of senses that it comes with.

The dirt of the lampshade results from the cluttering bulk of life experience accumulated without a specific goal or purpose.

The dirtier the lampshade, the less connection each soul has to the rest of the universe - and this includes ~ Vera Nazarian

I meant to text quickly, but it took five attempts to type with my thumbs. Ever since the time I accidentally told Wick I'd stopped for cocaine instead of coffee and when Mel, my best friend, asked me to get penis instead of pedis, I lost my faith in technology and proofread all my messages ~ J.C. McKenzie

But then jJax said, "Yet don't we always go looking for danger?"
"And we have a Metal to save," Robb added.
Talle shook her head. "Who is now a brainwashed murdering robot who wants to KILL us."
"But he didn't," Ana argued, painfully aware of the wound in her stomach. If he had wanted to kill her, he could have. He knew how. She didn't tell them what Di had whispered before he plunged the blade into her, wishing to have let her burn. That was not Di. So, she kept it to herself, a secret between her and her new scars. And that means the HIVE didn't take everything. The HIVE WON'T take everything. The Iron Kingdom isn't mine--it's ours. We're the outcasts, the rebels, the refugees--"
"And the royalty," said Jax.
"And the royalty," she agreed. "We're part of the Iron Kingdom. We're the parts no one remembers, so they'll never see us coming. Who's with me?"
Jax and Robb raised their hands without hesitation, and then Lenda, and Talle. The captain pursed her lips, blinking the stray tears out of her eyes, and then she nodded because Ana knew she just wanted to keep her safe--but now it was Ana's turn to save people.
"To the ends of the universe, darling," Siege finally replied.
Ana's heart swelled. She held tightly to Di's memory core, a lifeline glowing with hope in the dark. Once, she had not known who she could be without Di, and once she couldn't have fathomed the thought. But now she knew she carried Di with her, and Barger, and Wick, a ~ Ashley Poston

That was my first impression of you, Aubrey. A wick drowning in melted wax, your flame in danger. Just one more gust of wind and you'd be lost. You'd become that lost girl, sad through and through. ~ Mimi Strong

It's so easy to see people as less than they are, as less than people. ~ Lori Wick

Blue bead on the wick,
there's that in me that
burns and chills, blackening
my heart with its soot,
I think sometimes not Apollo heard me
but a different god. ~ Denise Levertov

A lie is a very short wick in a very small lamp. The oil of reputation is very soon sucked up and gone. And just as soon as a man is known to lie, he is like a two-foot pump in a hundred-foot well. He cannot touch bottom at all. ~ Henry Ward Beecher

Don't you have anything to stop a dragon?" Lux asked, climbing as fast as he could in the tree. "The only way to stop a dragon is to stab it through its heart!" Wick shouted back. "Get out of the tree before it comes back! ~ Amanda Hocking

Science too proceeds by lantern-flashes; it explores nature's inexhaustible mosiac piece by piece. Too often the wick lacks oil; the glass panes of the lantern may not be clean. No matter : his work is not in vain who first recognizes and shows to others one speck of the vast unknown. ~ Jean-Henri Fabre

A revolutionary poem will not tell you who or when to kill, what and when to burn, or even how to theorize. It reminds you ... where and when and how you are living and might live, it is a wick of desire. ~ Adrienne Rich

You're going to, Clay? She whispered before he could leave. You're really going to read to me?
Sure.
The smile that lit Jackie's face was the first Clayton had seen from her in more than a year. It did funny things in the region of his chest. He moved toward the door but ran into the doorpost because he was staring behind him watching her. Eddie who was headed that way laughed when she witnessed it.
Are you in a hurry Eddie asked noticing that he looked a little dazed.
She smiled He said his voice bemused. I saw her smile.
Eddie's gaze became very tender. If Jackie could see him now she'd know in an instant how much he still loved her. ~ Lori Wick

How a sip of water from a brass cup or a few drops from a brass spoon of the size of finger or how can one keep rose petals and marigold spreads between the pages of one's books for years or how the fresh shoot of barley could be put behind one's ears or how a dot of vermilion on the forehead or how fasting for a day or how praying or chanting or lightening an incense stick or how lighting a cotton wick dipped in mustard oil or how being blessed by priests and saints or how sitting in a lotus posture or how reading the holy books could kindle in one that thing called faith ~ Aporva Kala

Her hair was well brushed that day and sheened darkly in contrast with the lusterless pallor of her neck and arms. She wore the striped tee shirt which in his lone fantasies he especially liked to peel off her twisting torso. The oilcloth was divided into blue and white squares. A smear of honey stained what remained of the butter in its cool crock.
'All right. And the third Real Thing?'
She considered him. A fiery droplet in the wick of her mouth considered him. A three-colored velvet violet, of which she had done an aquarelle on the eve, considered him from its fluted crystal. She said nothing. She licked her spread fingers, still looking at him.
Van, getting no answer, left the balcony. Softly her tower crumbled in the sweet silent sun. ~ Vladimir Nabokov

The Shield was another of the Fear's names. According to Laughter, it means he shields the seed of Abraham the way a man starting a fire shields the flame. When Sarah was about to die childless, the Fear gave her a son. When Abraham was about to slaughter the son, the Fear gave him the ram. He is always shielding us like a guttering wick, Laughter said, because the fire he is trying to start with us is a fire that the whole world will live to warm its hands at. It is a fire in the dark that will light the whole world home. ~ Frederick Buechner

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. ~ William Shakespeare

I can't ask god why until I'm willing to ask why not. ~ Lori Wick

Jesus says. "Acknowledge and accept who I want to be for you: a Savior of boundless compassion, infinite patience, unbearable forgiveness, and love that keeps no score of wrongs. Quit projecting onto Me your own feelings about yourself. At this moment your life is a bruised reed and I will not crush it, a smoldering wick and I will not quench it. You are in a safe place."
Brennan Manning. Abba's Child: The Cry of the Heart for Intimate Belonging ~ Brennan Manning

Your love is the oil in my lamp of life. Your body the wick that burns casting a blanket of comfort over me as the darkness closes in ... I love you ~ Steven Strait

Each spring for a period of weeks the imperial gardens were filled with prize tulips (Turkish, Dutch, Iranian), all of them shown to their best advantage. Tulips whose petals had flexed wide were held shut with fine threads hand-tied. Most of the bulbs had been grown in place, but these were supplemented by thousands of cut stems held in glass bottles; the scale of the display was further compounded by mirrors placed strategically around the garden. Each variety was marked with a label made from silver filigree. In place of every fourth flower a candle, its wick trimmed to tulip height, was set into the ground. Songbirds in gilded cages supplied the music, and hundreds of giant tortoises carrying candles on their backs lumbered through the gardens, further illuminating the display. All the guests were required to dress in colors that flattered those of the tulips. At the appointed moment a cannon sounded, the doors to the harem were flung open, and the sultan's mistresses stepped into the garden led by eunuchs bearing torches. The whole scene was repeated every night for as long as the tulips were in bloom, for as long as Sultan Ahmed managed to cling to his throne. ~ Michael Pollan

But, imagining Scott's nights here, I populated the emptiness. This had been one of his places and some small part of his spirit had been left here. Holding my own brief séance for my brother, I conjured vivid faces and loud nights. I saw that smile of his, sudden as a sunray, when he loved what you were saying. I saw the strained expression when he felt you must agree with him and couldn't get you to see that. I caught the way the laughter would light up his eyes when he was trying to suppress it. I heard the laughing when it broke. He must have had some nights here. He had lived with such intensity. The thought was my funeral for him. Who needed possessions and career and official achievements? Life was only in the living of it. How you act and what you are and what you do and how you be were the only substance. They didn't last either. But while you were here, they made what light there was – the wick that threads the candle-grease of time. His light was out but here I felt I could almost smell the smoke still drifting from its snuffing. ~ William McIlvanney

Wick to be certain it was entirely extinguished. Energy like your energy. ~ Maggie Stiefvater

You know, you'd do a better job of convincing the men if you dipped your wick in a pussy or two."
Cillian's low voice made him tense. The man stood next to Sean's barstool, watching the sexual festivities in boredom.
"I have a girlfriend," he mumbled.
"I'm sure she won't mind."
Sean glanced at the naked women littering the room, picturing the look on Bailey's face if he admitted to "dipping his wick" in a prostie. "She'd rip my balls off," he said dryly. ~ Elle Kennedy

Finally, slowly, like a newly lighted oil lamp gathering kerosene up into its wick, Wally's face began to glow. He turned to Mack Fulton. "Mack, you know what's on my mind? ~ Clive Cussler

I believe it was Shakespeare, or possibly Howard Cosell, who first observed that marriage is very much like a birthday candle, in that 'the flames of passion burn brightest when the wick of intimacy is first ignited by the disposable butane lighter of physical attraction, but sooner or later the heat of familiarity causes the wax of boredom to drip all over the vanilla frosting of novelty and the shredded coconut of romance.' I could not have phrased it better myself. ~ Dave Barry

She lights a match in the dark hall and moves it onto the wick of the candle. Light lifts itself onto her shoulders. She is on her knees. She puts her hands on her thighs and breathes in the smell of the sulphur. She imagines she slap breathes in light. ~ Michael Ondaatje

A wild, wick slip she was ~ Virginia Woolf

Behind the candle, Dax's face turned red and he sputtered as if suppressing a cough. A flash seared my eyes as the wick ignited.
"That's rude." His outraged expression was comical.
"You wanted it lit."
"Yeah, but I didn't want to do it for you!" He glanced around the room as if seeking the patience to deal with an unruly child. "Zaltanas and their weird powers, forcing me to light the candle. Pah! To think I wanted to live vicariously through your adventures. ~ Maria V. Snyder

I can think of God as my savior and even my friend, but I must never forget that He is God, and after He saves me, I must put myself in subjection to Him and His will. ~ Lori Wick

Life," he said softly, "is more than flesh. Your body is a candle, your soul the flame. The longer I burn the candle..." He did not finish.
"A candle unused is nothing but wax and wick," I said."I would rather light the flame, knowing it will go out than sit forever in darkness. ~ S. Jae-Jones

The lamp burns bright when wick and oil are clean. ~ Ovid

Like a tent she had an open slit and she was sick of men trying to build lamps inside her. If a lamp was to be built, no one could see the naked wick. ~ Erin Emily Ann Vance

Once a man offered me his heart and I said no. Not because I didn't love him. Not because he was a beast or white - I couldn't love him. Do you understand? In bed while we slept, our bodies inches apart, the dark between our flesh a wick. It was burning down. And he couldn't feel it. ~ Eduardo C. Corral

Make some light, dear."
Garion fumbled for one of the candles, bumped his sleeve against it, and then deftly caught it before it hit the floor.He was sort of proud of that.
"Don't play with it, Garion Just light it."
Her tone was so familiar and so commonplace that he began to laugh, and with the little surge of will that he directed at the candle was a stuttering sort of thing. The flame that appeared bobbled and hiccuped at the end of the wick in a soundless chortle.
Polgara looked steadily at the giggling candle, then closed her eyes, " oh, Garion," she sighed in resignation.
*
"Garion, why is that candle acting like that?"
"Don't worry about it, dear. ~ David Eddings

People are growing up in the slack flicker of a pale light which lacks the concentrated burn of a candle flame or oil wick or the bulb of a gooseneck desk lamp: a pale, wavering, oblong shimmer, emitting incessant noise, which is to real knowledge or discourse what the manic or weepy protestations of a drunk are to responsible speech. Drunks do have a way of holding an audience, though, and so does the shimmery ill-focused oblong screen. ~ Adrienne Rich

The Holy Spirit doesn't need your help. ~ Lori Wick

Love is like a match to a wick. It takes that right combination to strike a flame. But once the flame is there, it can either give warmth, die out or burn your world to ashes. Even kill you. It's how you sustain the flame, feed it, and moderate the amount of energy in balance. ~ Anthony Liccione

I find nothing to be more heroic than someone chasing their own dream against all odds. ~ S.W. Southwick

Concealing himself from his father's wrath, behind the barn with wick turned low and his face two inches from the rough sawtooth page, Young Crawford had read of these atrocities in Beadle's Dime Library and fantasized about "calling out" the brutal old man who had sired him, "throwing down" on him with the "hogleg" he wore high on his hip, and blasting him into hell; after which he would go "on the scout," separating high-interest banks and arrogant railroad barons from their soiled coin and distributing it among their victims, or failing that into his own pockets and saddle pouches and living the "high Life" in saloons and "dance halls" where beautiful women in brief costumes admired his straight legs and square jaw and told him of the men who had "ruined" them (he knew not just how, only that the act was disgraceful and its effects permanent), whereupon he sought the blackguards out and deprived them of their lives. There was usually profit involved; invariably the men were thieves who lived in close proximity to their "ill-gotten booty," and didn't it say somewhere in Scripture that robbing a thief was no sin? If it didn't, it should have. ~ Loren D. Estleman

It's very easy to get a boy to leave the room.
It's much harder to get him to leave your thoughts. ~ Elizabeth Eulberg

When I discarded the idea that God was not a man (as I had been raised to think and believe without question), I grew distant, and the flame that once lit my path began to flicker and hiss like a candle burnt to its wick, making longevity impossible without a new energy source. ~ B.G. Bowers

That was the way with Moldenke, a brightly burning candle with a shortened wick, destined to burn low and give off gas. ~ David Ohle

The part I gave you is the wick. It's what makes the lantern work. You are my wick, Farrow. I need you to soar. ~ Lisa Marie

Every Christian has hurts and this is one of yours, but you go to God every time and He holds you. ~ Lori Wick

I can't give up that quick
My life is a candle and a wick
You can put it out, but you can't break it down
In the end we are waiting to be lit ~ Laura Marling

The moment you don't feel like praying, get on your knees. And the moment you don't feel like reading your bible, you'd better get that Book open. ~ Lori Wick

Curiosity is the wick in the candle of learning. ~ William Arthur Ward

Latchkey! I mean ... I want to talk to you ... '
He fell silent, glancing behind him and shifting from foot to foot, his waterproof trousers rattling like the bulls' bladders that boys use to learn swimming. Sterlingov angrily spat out his cigarette.
'Well? What about?'
'A ... about a secret matter ,' Alyoshka whispered.
Dozens of ears floated around them in the dust waves; the whisper was heard, and it ran on like a spark along a gunpowder wick. Alyoshka's secret message, the mysterious special clothing, the deacon's catastrophe-all this was too much. The atmosphere was charged with thousands of volts, and something was needed to discharge the electricity, to clear the air. ("X") ~ Yevgeny Zamyatin

During the day enough light filtered through the canvas roofing so that the men could make their way about, but long before dusk the hut grew much too dark to see anything. Marston and Hurley experimented and found that, by filling a small container with blubber oil and draping pieces of surgical bandage over the edge as a wick, they could obtain a feeble flame by which a man might read if he were not more than a few feet away. By such methods they gradually eliminated one little misery after another. ~ Alfred Lansing

There lives within the very flame of love A kind of wick or snuff that will abate it. ~ William Shakespeare

20 a bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not quench, until he brings justice to victory; 21 v and in his name the Gentiles will hope. ~ Anonymous

Wee, wee, wee, wee, all the way home," Hazlit quoted the nursery rhyme. Portmaine paused before sipping his own drink. "Did Maggie Windham strike you on the head?" "No. She hired me, and it took me half my walk home to figure out what she's truly about." "She wants to have her way with your tender young flesh," Portmaine suggested. "You're overdue to get your wick dipped, you know." "Your concern is touching, Archer." "You always get short-tempered when you've neglected your romping. Maybe you should go a round or two with Lady Norcross." "Maybe I should find a partner who can think beyond his next swiving." "I like swiving." Portmaine pushed off the desk and refilled his drink, then came to rest on the sofa a couple of feet from Hazlit. "It's normal to like swiving. Lady Norcross apparently understands this. You used to understand this. I certainly understand it. More brandy?" "You're outpacing me," Hazlit said, smiling slightly at Portmaine's predictable simplicity. "And ~ Grace Burrowes

Fire cannot hurt us. And yet, when we light her a lantern, there is a moment as we watch the wick flare in the darkness-a moment in which I want to touch the flame. Just to see if I can still be burned. ~ Meagan Spooner

If you devote yourself to God, then He in turn will continually stay with you, as an eternal candle flame stays with a wick, feeding off the overflow of wax; yet reshaping into something better. ~ Anthony Liccione

I had let it all grow. I had supposed
It was all OK. Your life
Was a liner I voyaged in.
Costly education had fitted you out.
Financiers and committees and consultants
Effaced themselves in the gleam of your finish.
You trembled with the new life of those engines.

That first morning,
Before your first class at College, you sat there
Sipping coffee. Now I know, as I did not,
What eyes waited at the back of the class
To check your first professional performance
Against their expectations. What assessors
Waited to see you justify the cost
And redeem their gamble. What a furnace
Of eyes waited to prove your metal. I watched
The strange dummy stiffness, the misery,
Of your blue flannel suit, its straitjacket, ugly
Half-approximation to your idea
Of the properties you hoped to ease into,
And your horror in it. And the tanned
Almost green undertinge of your face
Shrunk to its wick, your scar lumpish, your plaited
Head pathetically tiny.

You waited,
Knowing yourself helpless in the tweezers
Of the life that judges you, and I saw
The flayed nerve, the unhealable face-wound
Which was all you had for courage.
I saw that what you gripped, as you sipped,
Were terrors that killed you once already.
Now I see, I saw, sitting, the lonely
Girl who was going to die.

That blue suit.
A mad, execution uniform,Ted Hughes

Poetry The Blue Flannel Suit