A Quote by Ray Mears

Fire-wood makes you warm three times; first collecting it, secondly shifting it and third when you burn it. — © Ray Mears
Fire-wood makes you warm three times; first collecting it, secondly shifting it and third when you burn it.
Of what use were it, pray, to get a little wood to burn, to warm your body this cold weather, if there were not a divine fire kindled at the same time to warm your spirit?
We think the fire eats the wood. We are wrong. The wood reaches out to the flame. The fire licks at what the wood harbors, and the wood gives itself away to that intimacy, the manner in which we and the world meet each new day.
Once upon a time there was a piece of wood. It was not an expensive piece of wood. Far from it. Just a common block of firewood, one of those thick, solid logs that are put on the fire in winter to make cold rooms cozy and warm.
But once an idea for a novel seizes a writer...well, it’s like an inner fire that at first warms you and makes you feel good but then begins to eat you alive, burn you up from within. You can’t just walk away from the fire; it keeps burning. The only way to put it out is to write the book.
When the Dark comes rising six shall turn it back; Three from the circle, three from the track; Wood, bronze, iron; Water, fire, stone; Five will return and one go alone. Iron for the birthday; bronze carried long; Wood from the burning; stone out of song; Fire in the candle ring; water from the thaw; Six signs the circle and the grail gone before. Fire on the mountain shall find the harp of gold Played to wake the sleepers, oldest of old. Power from the Green Witch, lost beneath the sea. All shall find the Light at last, silver on the tree.
While we were walking around, we came to the Catholic church, and we saw that some people had set fire to carpets and banked them around the rectory, which was made out of wood. They knew every fire truck on the South Side was going to be in the park, that the rectory would just burn to the ground. Our one little act was putting out that fire.
You have grudged the very fire in your house because the wood cost overmuch!" he cried. "You have grudged life. To live cost overmuch, and you have refused to pay the price. Your life has been like a cabin where the fire is out and there are no blankets on the floor." He signaled to a slave to fill his glass, which he held aloft. "But I have lived. And I have been warm with life as you have never been warm. It is true, you shall live long. But the longest nights are the cold nights when a man shivers and lies awake. My nights have been short, but I have slept warm
We didn't have a drill so he would burn the holes through the wood with a metal rod that he heated up in a fire. Can you imagine an ordinary crew doing that?
Forget them. Burn all, burn everything. Fire is bright and fire is clean.
If you're a first-responder in Missouri as part of a fire department, you're three times more likely to respond to a drug overdose than you are a fire. So it's a problem. I don't know exactly what the right number is, but certainly I think members of the Senate and House are rightly concerned about it.
Lies are neither bad nor good. Like a fire they can either keep you warm or burn you to death, depending on how they're used.
I met a Swedish single mum called Annalise who is living in the wilderness. Her dilemma is finding enough wood to make a fire to keep warm.
Greene wood makes a hott fire.
To me, fair friend, you never can be old, For as you were when first your eye I eyed, Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold Have from the forests shook three summers' pride, Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turn'd In process of the seasons have I seen, Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burn'd, Since first I saw you fresh, which yet are green.
Love is a fire. But whether it is going to warm your hearth or burn down your house, you can never tell.
Emotions, particularly anger, are like fire. They can cook your food and keep you warm, or they can burn your house down.
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