Honestly, I'm living my fantasy. It's being with my family, preferably on a snowy afternoon with a fire going, cuddled up in blankets, playing a game.
You fire blanks, but the guns eject real brass, hot cartridges. They're, like, 400 degrees.
The spread of civilisation may be likened to a fire; first, a feeble spark, next a flickering flame, then a mighty blaze, ever increasing in speed and power.
The fire to inspire women and help them to blaze new paths fiercely burns inside of me.
You know, I'm no different from a fireman. You got to run into a fire no matter how big the blaze is.
Johnny Blaze was my character at OVW. I had all these fancy fire catchphrases: 'Call the fire department,' 'Get your fire extinguishers out, ladies.' 'By the time you hear the thunder, it's going to be too late because the lightning will have already struck.' That was all my thing.
I ended up in Colorado working in wilderness fire prevention. My job was to run around with a chainsaw and cut down trees during a blaze. It was really fun. When I first got out there, that's when I realized how passable of a male I could be.
There is no longer a way out of our present situation except by forging a road toward our objective, violently and by force, over a sea of blood and under a horizon blazing with fire.
A God of fire is the only one there is. Our God is not like an iceberg but like a forest fire. He is never compared to the moon with its cool glow but rather to the sun, radiating warmth. He dwells in the light of the rising sun. Whatever he does shines brightly and is carried out with burning desire and a blazing purpose.
There is a sort of jealousy which needs very little fire; it is hardly a passion, but a blight bred in the cloudy, damp despondency of uneasy egoism.
London survived the Great Fire 350 years ago. We were not beaten by the Blitz or the horrors of 7/7. History has shown us how strong London is.
My theory on housework is, if the item doesn't multiply, smell, catch fire, or block the refrigerator door, let it be. No one else cares. Why should you?
I was at this casino minding my own business, and this guy came up to me and said, 'You're gonna have to move, you're blocking a fire exit.' As though if there was a fire, I wasn't gonna run. If you're flammible and have legs, you are never blocking a fire exit.
The four building blocks of the universe are fire, water, gravel and vinyl.
Girls blush, sometimes, because they are alive, half wishing they were dead to save the shame. The sudden blush devours them, neck and brow; They have drawn too near the fire of life, like gnats, and flare up bodily, wings and all. What then? Who's sorry for a gnat or girl?
'You're fired' was not a part of the deal. And when I went into the first board room, the very first one, I'm looking at these people, and I had to fire somebody, but we never thought in terms of the expression 'You're fired.'
I can still remember the afternoon, on my 15th birthday, when I opened up 'The Virgin and the Gypsy,' D.H. Lawrence's novella, in my tiny cell in boarding school, and whole worlds of possibility opened out that I had never guessed existed. The language was on fire and sang of liberation.
Prometheus heretofore went up to Heaven, and stole fire from thence. Have not I as much Boldness as he?
From an early age, I had always loved drawing. Laying on the floor, in front of the fire, drawing from my imagination, marching soldiers, dive bombers, spaceships and monsters. Now, suddenly, I was drawing from real life!
The inflated imitations of gold and silver, which after the rapture are thrown into the fire, all is exhausted and dissipated by the debt. All scrips and bonds are wiped out. At the fourth pillar dedicated to Saturn, split by earthquake and flood: vexing everyone, an urn of gold is found and then restored.
