Incense Quotes

On this page you will find all the quotes on the topic "Incense". There are currently 3 quotes in our collection about Incense. Discover the TOP 10 sayings about Incense!
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  • Moved by their selfish desires, people seek after fame and glory. But when they have acquired it, they are already stricken in years. If you hanker after worldly fame and practise not the Way, your labors are wrongfully applied and your energy is wasted. It is like unto burning an incense stick. However much its pleasing odor be admired, the fire that consumes is steadily burning up the stick.

    Selfish   Fire   Years  
  • You need to turn your room into a place of power. It's a good idea to have flowers around, candles, incense, you know, happy things. Make your room into a beautiful place and keep it impeccably clean.

  • Love lieth deep; Love dwells not in lip-depths; Love laps his wings on either side the heart Absorbing all the incense of sweet thoughts, So that they pass not to the shrine of sound.

    Sweet   Heart   Deep Love  
  • Oh! none are so absorb'd, as not to feel Sweet thoughts like music coming o'er the mind: When prayer, the purest incense of a soul, Hath risen to the throne of heaven, the heart Is mellow'd, and the shadows that becloud Our state of darken'd being, glide away.

    Sweet   Prayer   Heart  
    Robert Montgomery (1829). “A universal prayer ; Death ; A vision of heaven ; and A vision of hell”, p.144
  • I do not feel like writing verses; but as I light my perfume burner with myrrh and jasmine incense, they suddenly burgeon from my heart, like flowers in a garden.

    Flower   Writing   Heart  
  • Where shall we get religion? Beneath the open sky, the sphere of crystal silence surcharged with deity.. The midnight earth sends incense up, sweet with the breath of prayer -- Go out beneath the naked night and get religion there.

    Sweet   Prayer   Night  
  • A few minutes ago every tree was excited, bowing to the roaring storm, waving, swirling, tossing their branches in glorious enthusiasm like worship. But though to the outer ear these trees are now silent, their songs never cease. Every hidden cell is throbbing with music and life, every fiber thrilling like harp strings, while incense is ever flowing from the balsam bells and leaves. No wonder the hills and groves were God's first temples, and the more they are cut down and hewn into cathedrals and churches, the farther off and dimmer seems the Lord himself.

    Life   Song   Cutting  
    John Muir (2011). “My First Summer in the Sierra: Illustrated Edition”, p.94, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt
  • Not on morality, but on cookery, let us build our stronghold: there brandishing our frying-pan, as censer, let us offer sweet incense to the Devil, and live at ease on the fat things he has provided for his elect!

    Sweet   Cooking   Devil  
    Thomas Carlyle (1871). “The Collected Works of Thomas Carlyle”, p.99
  • In Nepal, the phenomenon is reversed. Time is a stick of incense that burns without being consumed. One day can seem like a week; a week, like months. Mornings stretch out and crack their spines with the yogic impassivity of house cats. Afternoons bulge with a succulent ripeness, like fat peaches. There is time enough to do everything - write a letter, eat breakfast, read the paper, visit a shrine or two, listen to the birds, bicycle downtown to change money, buy postcards, shop for Buddhas - and arrive home in time for lunch.

    Morning   Cat   Home  
    Jeff Greenwald (2014). “Shopping for Buddhas: An Adventure in Nepal”, p.16, Travelers' Tales
  • New England clam chowder, made as it should be, is a dish to preach about, to chant praises and sing hymns and burn incense before. [...] It is as American as the Stars and Stripes, as patriotic as the national Anthem. It is Yankee Doodle in a kettle.

  • There's a little book I'm thinking of writing - "Swan Song" is what I shall call it. The song of the dying. And my book will be incense burnt at the deathbed of this society, damned with the damnation of its own impotence.

    Song   Book   Writing  
    "Foma Gordeyev". Book by Maxim Gorky, 1899.
  • Father of rosy day, No more thy clouds of incense rise; But waking flow'rs, At morning hours, Give out their sweets to meet thee in the skies.

    Sweet   Morning   Father  
    Thomas Hood (2016). “Delphi Complete Poetical Works of Thomas Hood (Illustrated)”, p.299, Delphi Classics
  • All philanthropy — no age has seen more of it than our own — is only a savoury fumigation burning at the mouth of a sewer.

  • ...you meditate and you got the candles, you got the incense and you've been chanting, and all of a sudden you hear this voice: 'Write this down'

    Writing   Voice   Incense  
  • If upon this earth we ever have a glimpse of heaven,it is when we pass a home in winter, at night,and through the windows, the curtains drawn aside,we see the family about the pleasant hearth; the old lady knitting; the cat playing with the yarn;the children wishing they had as many dolls or dollars or knivesor somethings, as there are sparks going out to join the roaring blast;the father reading and smoking, and the clouds rising like incense from the altar of domestic joy.I never passed such a house without feeling thatI had received a benediction.

    Robert Green Ingersoll (1907). “The works of Robert G. Ingersoll”, p.220, Library of Alexandria
  • I loved the quiet places in Kyoto, the places that held the world within a windless moment. Inside the temples, Nature held her breath. All longing was put to sleep in the stillness, and all was distilled into a clean simplicity. The smell of woodsmoke, the drift of incense; a procession of monks in black-and-gold robes, one of them giggling in a voice yet unbroken; a touch of autumn in the air, a sense of gathering rain.

    Rain   Sleep   Autumn  
  • When I'm off the road, my husband and I recharge our batteries. It's a day of deep rest and connection with the spiritual, and that can be anything - going for a walk in nature, being in silence, burning incense.

  • A few minutes ago every tree was excited, bowing to the roaring storm, waving, swirling, tossing their branches in glorious enthusiasm like worship. But though to the outer ear these trees are now silent, their songs never cease.

    Song   Tree   Tragedy  
    John Muir (2011). “My First Summer in the Sierra: Illustrated Edition”, p.94, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt
  • Believers obey Christ as the one whom our obedience is accepted by God. Believers know all their duties are weak, imperfect, and unable to abide in God's presence. Therefore they look to Christ as the one who bears the iniquity of their holy things, who adds incense to their prayers, gathers out all the weeds from their duties and makes them acceptable to God.

    Weed   Prayer   Add  
  • Christ was born in a manger, laying down amongst donkeys ang goats. He was given gifts of incense and perfume. No kidding.

  • I plant rosemary all over the garden, so pleasant is it to know that at every few steps one may draw the kindly branchlets through one's hand, and have the enjoyment of their incomparable incense; and I grow it against walls, so that the sun may draw out its inexhaustible sweetness to greet me as I pass.

    Wall   Garden   Hands  
    Gertrude Jekyll (2011). “Home and Garden: Notes and Thoughts, Practical and Critical, of a Worker in Both”, p.184, Cambridge University Press
  • Secrecy is as essential to intelligence as vestments and incense to a Mass or darkness to a spiritualist séance and must at all times be maintained, quite irrespective of whether or not it serves any purpose.

    Chronicles of Wasted Time: The Infernal Grove (1973).
  • I like cinnamon rolls, but I don't always have time to make a pan. That's why I wish they would sell cinnamon roll incense. After all I'd rather light a stick and have my roommate wake up with false hopes.

    Funny   Humor   Light  
  • Religion assures us that our afflictions shall have an end; she comforts us, she dries our tears, she promises us another life. On the contrary, in the abominable worship of atheism, human woes are the incense, death is the priest, a coffin the altar, and annihilation the Deity.

    Promise   Tears   Atheism  
    "The Genius of Christianity". Book by François-René de Chateaubriand, Part I, Book VI, Chapter V. Translated by Charles I. White, D.D. Baltimore: John Murphy, 1871, p. 202, 1802.
  • One grain of incense with devotion offer'd 'S beyond all perfumes of Sabaean spices.

    Philip Massinger (1813). “The Plays”, p.365
  • Nothing is true but Love, nor aught of worth; Love is the incense which doth sweeten earth.

    Love   Love Is   Earth  
    Richard Chenevix Trench (1865). “Poems: Collected and Arranged Anew”, p.33
  • As God is propitiated by the blood of a hundred bulls, so also is he by the smallest offering of incense. [Lat., Sed tamen ut fuso taurorum sanguine centum, Sic capitur minimo thuris honore deux.]

    God   Offering   Blood  
  • Do you not see the hand of God, which gives harmony, light, and love to the world? Do not the mountains, in the blue cloud of incense, sing their hymn of glory?

    God   Hands   Hymns  
    Leonid Andreyev (1922). “He who Gets Slapped: A Play in Four Acts”
  • Orchidbreathing incense into butterfly's wings

    c.1689 On Love and Barley: Haiku of Basho, no.166 (translated by Lucien Stryk).
  • The Holy Night We sate among the stalls at Bethlehem; The dumb kine from their fodder turning them, Softened their horned faces To almost human gazes Toward the newly Born: The simple shepherds from the star-lit brooks Brought visionary looks, As yet in their astonied hearing rung The strange sweet angel-tongue: The magi of the East, in sandals worn, Knelt reverent, sweeping round, With long pale beards, their gifts upon the ground, The incense, myrrh, and gold These baby hands were impotent to hold: So let all earthlies and celestials wait Upon thy royal state. Sleep, sleep, my kingly One!

    Sweet   Baby   Stars  
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