A Quote by Beth Moore

We Houstonians are a spicy lot. We raise our babies with tongues of fire, mostly lit by chips and salsa. Our blood is as thick and warm as queso. — © Beth Moore
We Houstonians are a spicy lot. We raise our babies with tongues of fire, mostly lit by chips and salsa. Our blood is as thick and warm as queso.
When I'm a little kid watching Chicago Bears games, hot salsa would be on the table and the first time I was like, 'Ah, this is hot Dad, get mild salsa,' and he was like: 'Not in my house. We have real salsa. And if you can't handle real salsa then you can just eat dry chips.'
Babies, babies, babies! They're everywhere, aren't they? In our eyes, in our thoughts, in our arms, in our dreams. Sometimes, in our dreams, they are riding alpacas or juggling tacos - but that doesn't mean those dreams are necessarily about babies. Look, I'm not Freud.
Once I was hosting an important dinner party at our house - everything was perfect, candles were lit, the house smelled amazing with great food and drinks ready. We lit a fire and the flue wasn't able to open, unbeknownst to us. We smoked out the entire house and the fire department had to come - it was a mess.
That sinuous southern life, that oblique and slow and complicated old beauty, that warm thick air and blood warm sea, that place of mists and languor and fragrant richness.
As hope kindles hope, millions more will find it. By our efforts, we have lit a fire as well - a fire in the minds of men. It warms those who feel its power, it burns those who fight its progress, and one day this untamed fire of freedom will reach the darkest corners of our world.
I came to set fire to the earth. And I am watchful that the fire grow. May the fire of love grow in our hearts. May the fire of transformation glow in our movements. May the fire of purification burn away our sins. May the fire of justice guide our steps. May the fire of wisdom illuminate our paths. May the fire that spreads over the Earth never be extinguished.
We set down feasts for each other and treated our love with tongues of fire. Our bodies were fields of wonder to us.
Now people are really inspired to do a lot, and the fire got lit under our asses to be more politically aware and be more politically involved in our community and pay more attention to what's going on.
Keep the fire of your testimony of the restored gospel and your witness of our Redeemer burning so brightly that our children can warm their hands by the fire of your faith.
A lot of tight Senate races out there. Let's hit those chips with another dash of salsa, Ed Bradley.
And then I saw the menu, stained with tea and beautifully written by a foreign hand, and on top it said..."Chips with everything". Chips with every damn thing. You breed babies and you eat chips with everything.
Joy is the holy fire that keeps our purpose warm and our intelligence aglow.
Chips with every damn thing. You breed babies and you eat chips with everything.
Poetry [is] more necessary than ever as a fire to light our tongues.
When we are old and these rejoicing veins Are frosty channels to a muted stream, And out of all our burning there remains No feeblest spark to fire us, even in dream, This be our solace: that it was not said When we were young and warm and in our prime, Upon our couch we lay as lie the dead, Sleeping away the unreturning time.
In that first blow to the deaf walls of those who have everything, the blood of our people, our blood, ran generously to wash away injustice. To live, we die. Our dead once again walked the way of truth. Our hope was fertilized with mud and blood.
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