A Quote by Langston Hughes

Gather out of star-dust, Earth-dust, Cloud-dust, Storm-dust, And splinters of hail, One handful of dream-dust, Not for sale. — © Langston Hughes
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.
We are all made from star dust and we will all return to star dust, like a cosmic palindrome.
Shadow and dust shall be reclaimed, earth sealing the tomb from which you came. Dust to dust, ashes to ashes, warrior return, breathe your last. Air, earth, fire, water, hear my voice, obey my order, thrice around your grave do bound, evil sink into the ground. I now invoke the law of three, this is my will, so mote it be.
But something cannot be made out of nothing. Dust rose in the air, caught the rays of the sun for a brief moment and sparkled, and then returned to the earth as mere dust.
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.
Humility is authenticity. It comes from the Latin word humus, meaning "earth." As the church has taught, we're made of dust, and unto dust we shall return.
The earth doesn't have a housekeeper to do the dusting. And the dust that falls on it every day remains there. Everything that's come down to us from the past has been conserved by dust.
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.
Why all this toil for triumphs of an hour? What tho' we wade in Wealth, or soar in Fame? Earth's highest station ends in 'Here he lies;' and 'Dust to dust' concludes the noblest songs.
Dust into Dust, and under Dust to lie, Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and-sans End!
In the midst of life we are in death, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, in sure and certain hope of the Resurrection.
The dust to which this flesh shall return, it is the ancient dreaming dust of God.
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