A Quote by George Herman

Watch my dust. — © George Herman
Watch my dust.
Gather out of star-dust, Earth-dust, Cloud-dust, Storm-dust, And splinters of hail, One handful of dream-dust, Not for sale.
I drive a car till it turns to dust, then I sweep up the dust and ride on the dust.
Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. We are nothing, but dust and to dust we shall return. Amen.
It is true that we are made of dust. And the world is also made of dust. But the dust has motes rising.
I do not know what dust is, I do not know where it comes from, I only know that it settles on things. I cannot see it in the air, or watch it fall. Sometimes Im home all day but I never see it sliding about looking for a place to rest when my back is turned. Does it wait til I go out? Or, does it happen in the night when I sleep? Dust is not fussy about the places it chooses, though it seems to prefer still objects. Sometimes, out of kindness, I let it lie for weeks. On some places it will lie forever. However, dust holds no grudges and once removed it will always return, in a friendly way.
When there's dust missing here or there, it's because someone has touched my things. I see immediately someone has been there. And it's because I live constantly with dust, in dust, that I prefer to wear gray suits, the only color on which it leaves no trace.
We write dust epitaphs for our vanquished enemies and watch them blow away in the desert wind.
I have a fabulous life. It is interesting and rigorous. I work hard. So leave me alone. Watch my dust. Shut up.
Work my hands in the soil, what's the pay for all the toil? Dust for blood, dust for blood, dust for blood.
The heart is like a mirror. When we dust it off, we are able to see ourselves. The dust is all our stuff - guilt, anger - this stuff is reflected back to us. Practice removes the dust from the mirror of our hearts.
We do not start as dust. We do not end as dust. We make more than dust. That's all we ask of you. Make more than dust.
Dust into Dust, and under Dust to lie, Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and-sans End!
The dust to which this flesh shall return, it is the ancient dreaming dust of God.
All dust is the same dust. Temporarily separated To go peacefully And enjoy the eternal nap.
The sons of Adam are formed from dust; if not humble as the dust, they fall short of being men.
Oh, God of Dust and Rainbows, Help us to see That without the dust the rainbow Would not be.
This site uses cookies to ensure you get the best experience. More info...
Got it!