burn

Nothing burns like the cold.

The counselor says that with more time and more surgeries, I will begin to feel normal again. She says this with a mouth that can still smile. It__ so easy to be reassuring when you have lips.

Now, Simone, I'm a witch, remember? There's not much I don't know just by looking at you. And you know what I see when I look at you?'Simone walked out the door before she could finish, only hearing the steely hush of Millie's voice add, 'Nothing.

I watched the black ocean in his eyes and saw this flash behind them and understood what he had meant the night before, about the insanity that had gripped him. He was not so far gone as to be lost, but he was close, and I knew it had come from me turning my back on him as I had started to flee. Whether I wanted to or not, I anchored him to this world, and I was the only thing he'd known, maybe for his whole life. He had watched me, yes, he had stalked me, oh yes, but it had driven him to the edge. I inhaled sharply at the wildness I saw in him, the despair that was threatening to rise.

You should've thought of that before becoming a fir

I am not a Sunday morning inside four wallswith clean bloodand organized drawers.I am the hurricane setting fire to the forestsat night when no one else is aliveor awakehowever you choose to see itand I live in my own flamessometimes burning too bright and too wildto make things lastor handlemyself or anyone elseand so I run.run run runfar and wideuntil my bones ache and lungs splitand it feels good.Hear that people? It feels goodbecause I am the slave and ruler of my own bodyand I wish to do with it exactly as I please

Be kind! Go and burn the world with the fire of your love.

Now I will burn you back, I will burn you through,Though I am damned for it we two will lieAnd burn, here where the starlings fly

When you__e looking for a needle in a haystack, don__ afraid to burn the haystack to save yourself from spending half your life picking through strands of straw.

It's a poem about moths. But it's also a poem about psychopaths.I get it copied. And stick it in a frame. And now it glowers redoubtably above my desk:an entomological keepsake of the horizons of existence.And the brutal, star-crossed wisdom of those who seek them out.i was talking to a moththe other eveninghe was trying to break intoan electric bulband fry himself on the wireswhy do you fellowspull this stunt i asked himbecause it is the conventionalthing for moths or whyif that had been an uncoveredcandle instead of an electriclight bulb you wouldnow be a small unsightly cinderhave you no senseplenty of it he answeredbut at times we get tiredof using itwe get bored with routineand crave beautyand excitementfire is beautifuland we know that if we gettoo close it will kill usbut what does that matterit is better to be happyfor a momentand be burned up with beautythan to live a long timeand be bored all the whileso we wad all our life upinto one little rolland then we shoot the rollthat is what life is forit is better to be part of beautyour attitude toward lifeis come easy go easywe are like human beingsused to be before they becametoo civilized to enjoy themselvesand before i could argue himout of his philosophyhe went and immolated himselfon a patent cigar lighteri do not agree with himmyself i would rather havehalf the happiness and twicethe longevitybut at the same time i wishthere was something i wantedas badly as he wanted to fry himself

They lit her wings with the flames, but she raised to the sky soaring over the clouds until the whole sky caught fire. She flew staring at the destruction with her cold eyes, while the clouds came down as the balls of fire and burnt everyone, who tried to take her wings away into ashes.

You tasted like fireAnd I miss that.So, at timesI drank a little.And at times,I drank too much.But I only drankTill it burned me enough.

They were the prisoners hidden in different cages, and yet they saw each other every day. He named her fire and she named him the wind, the day they both touched and embraced each other they burnt down everything that stood in their way.

I know you haven't burned down any buildings in a while," she said, "but if you start feeling the need...

Don't burn the corpse!Zombies don't like fire!

I will always continue to love the way how the fire inside you burnt everyone around it, But took me in its arms and kept me warm.

Burn, baby, burn,_ she muttered in a hard, satisfied voice.I cleared my throat. __s much as I hate to interrupt the supreme satisfaction you__e taking in watching the mansion blaze to the ground, I__ reallylike to get out of here before the whole house collapses on top of us.

I believe in witches, Sophia,_ his deep voice hypnotized her.__ hope you don__ burn me at the stake,_ she murmured to him.__ don__ burn witches. I set them on fire,_ Alistair whispered so low Sophia thought she had heard wrong.