Candle Quotes
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Grief does not expire like a candle or the beacon on a lighthouse. It simply changes temperature.
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A million candles burnt in him without his being at the trouble of lighting a single one
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Night's candles have burned out, and jocund day stands tiptoe on the misty mountaintops." Hope tinged with melancholy - like life.
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I burned my candle at both ends, And now have neither foes nor friends.
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Like his that lights a candle to the sun.
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Look, what envious streaks do lace the severing clouds in yonder east! Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day stands tip-toe on the misty mountain-tops.
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Jack be nimble, Jack be quick, Jack sat on a candle stick, cause fire is the devil's only friend.
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Now I must take you to a very interesting part of our subject-to the relation between the combustion of a candle and that living kind of combustion which goes on within us. In every one of us there is a living process of combustion going on very similar to that of a candle, and I must try to make that plain to you. For it is not merely true in a poetical sense-the relation of the life of man to a taper; and if you will follow, I think I can make this clear.
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My master lit a candle in the long midwinter's past Now summer comes and all the fields are burning black and fast.
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Thus hath the candle sing'd the moth. O these deliberate fools!
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Life's no brief candle-it's a splendid torch!
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If you have a candle, the light won't glow any dimmer if I light yours off of mine.
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You can blow out a candle, but you can't blow out a fire.
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A single candle can light a thousand more without diminishing itself.
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I ... express a wish that you may, in your generation, be fit to compare to a candle; that you may, like it, shine as lights to those about you; that, in all your actions, you may justify the beauty of the taper by making your deeds honourable and effectual in the discharge of your duty to your fellow-men.
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The music paled like a candle and went out.
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Lucy swayed in shock. A gust of wind moaned through the conservatory and blew out all but one of her candles. Simon must have done this. He’d destroyed his fairyland conservatory. Why? She sank to her knees, huddled on the cold floor, her one remaining flame cradled in her numb palms. She’d seen how tenderly Simon had cared for his plants. Remembered the look of pride when she’d first discovered the dome and fountain. For him to have smashed all this . . . He must have lost hope. All hope.
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Both nuns and mothers worship images, But those the candles light are not as those That animate a mother's reveries, But keep a marble or a bronze repose.
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How far that little candle throws its beams! So shines a good deed in a naughty world.
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Now you know those trick candles that you blow out and a couple of seconds later they come alight again, well the other day there was a fire at the factory that makes them.
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How can you go on stage and shout 'Yeah! Rock'n'roll forever!' and then go to bed at 10 o'clock with a nightcap on, a candle in your hand and a Bible under your arm?
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To propel a dirigible balloon through the air is like pushing a candle through a brick wall.
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She felt a little nervous about this; 'for it might end, you know,' said Alice to herself, 'in my going out altogether, like a candle. I wonder what I should be like then?' And she tried to fancy what the flame of a candle looks like after the candle is blown out, for she could not remember ever having seen such a thing.
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All human thought, all science, all religion, is the holding of a candle to the night of the universe.
