"Heap coals of fire on the head of your enemy" Mthis most uncharitable advice is found in a book [the Bible], of which charity is ...reckoned the standard principle.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Set me as a seal upon thine heart, as a seal upon thine arm: for love is strong as death; jealousy is cruel as the grave: the coal...s thereof are coals of fire, which hath a most vehement flame.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
You do me wrong to take me out o' th' grave: Thou art a soul in bliss, but I am bound... Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears Do scald like molten lead.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Heaping glowing coals on another person's head is usually misunderstood and comes to nothing because the other person knows just a...s well that he is in the right and has also given some thought on his own part to heaping coals.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Methinks King Richard and myself should meet With no less terror than the elements... Of fire and water, when their thundering shock At meeting tears the cloudy cheeks of heaven.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
And they shall eat the flesh in that night, roast with fire, and unleavened bread; and with bitter herbs they shall eat it. Eat no...t of it raw, nor sodden at all with water, but roast with fire; his head with his legs, and with the purtenance thereof. And ye shall let nothing of it remain until the morning; and that which remaineth of it until the morning ye shall burn with fire. And thus shall ye eat it; with your loins girded, your shoes on your feet, and your staff in your hand; and ye shall eat it in haste: it is the Lord's passover.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Maybe I couldn't make it. Maybe I don't have a pretty smile, good teeth, nice tits, long legs, a cheeky arse, a sexy voice. Maybe ...I don't know how to handle men and increase my market value, so that the rewards due to the feminine will accrue to me. Then again, maybe I'm sick of the masquerade. I'm sick of pretending eternal youth. I'm sick of belying my own intelligence, my own will, my own sex. I'm sick of peering at the world through false eyelashes, so everything I see is mixed with a shadow of bought hairs; I'm sick of weighting my head with a dead mane, unable to move my neck freely, terrified of rain, of wind, of dancing too vigorously in case I sweat into my lacquered curls. I'm sick of the Powder Room. I'm sick of pretending that some fatuous male's self-important pronouncements are the objects of my undivided attention, I'm sick of going to films and plays when someone else wants to, and sick of having no opinions of my own about either. I'm sick of being a transvestite. I refuse to be a female impersonator. I am a woman, not a castrate.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Everyone thinks writers must know more about the inside of the human head, but that is wrong. They know less, that's why they writ...e. Trying to find out what everyone else takes for granted.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »