Kathryn Lasky Quotes

Fire is one of my temperaments. It is behind all my work... Fire is a chemical presence.

It takes two flints to make a fire.

Fire is the Sun unwinding from the tree's log.

A certain fire pretends to be alive; it awakens. Working its way along the hand as a conductor, it reaches the support and engulfs it; then a leaping spark closes the circle it was to trace, coming back to the eye and beyond.

If there be fuel prepared, it is hard to tell whence the spark shall come that shall set it on fire.

I am burning. If anyone lacks tinder, let him set his rubbish ablaze with my fire.

Is not Fire a Body heated so hot as to emit Light copiously? For what else is a red hot Iron than Fire? And what else is a burning Coal than red hot Wood?

Fire is fed by fire. The same small flame destroys Two stalks of wheat at once.

From a small spark, Great flame has risen.

You know what burns me? Matches.

Often I have the impression that I am writing on paper that is already browning in the licks of the flames.

Flames from the lips may be produced by holding in the mouth a sponge saturated with the purest gasoline.

Corncobs are the greatest fire-making tinder.

From a little spark may burst a flame.

Fire—without hatred.

I just like getting bigger and bigger. Taking it to another level, even as far as features and production.

Wood feeds the fire which burns it.

One tiny flame could make so many other flames; one tiny flame could set afire a whole world.

You cannot put a fire out! A thing that can ignite can go itself- without a flame- E'en through the darkest night!

Flames too soon acquire strength if disregarded.

You can't start a fire without a spark

I do not believe that we can put into anyone ideas which are not in him already. As a rule there are in everyone all sorts of good ideas, ready like tinder. But much of this tinder catches fire, or catches it successfully, only when it meets some flame or spark from outside, i.e., from some other person.

The small wad of burning paper drew down to a wisp of flame and then died out leaving a faint pattern for just a moment in the incandescence like the shape of a flower, a molten rose. Then all was dark again.

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.

I sit in the dark and wait for a little flame to appear at the end of my pencil.