Life is a frail moth flying Caught in the web of the years that pass. — Sara Teasdale Copy Share Image
Hurt no living thing: Ladybird, nor butterfly, Nor moth with dusty wing. — Christina Rossetti Copy Share Image
And I'll bury my soul in a scrapbook, with the photographs there and the moths. — Leonard Cohen Copy Share Image
I can't smell moth balls, I find it too difficult to get their tiny legs apart — Steve Martin Copy Share Image
After 12 years, the old butterflies came back. Well, I guess at my age you call them moths. — Franco Harris Copy Share Image
Kill not the moth nor butterfly, For the Last Judgement draweth nigh. — William Blake Copy Share Image
A coat that is not used, the moths eat; and a Christian who is hung up so that he shall not be… — Henry Ward Beecher Copy Share Image
You know what rumors are like-like a jar full of moths. Once they escape, they're all over the place. — Rhys Bowen Copy Share Image
But the good deed, through the ages Living in historic pages, Brighter grows and gleams immortal, Unconsumed by moth or rust. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
He felt all at once like an ineffectual moth, fluttering at the windowpane of reality, dimly seeing it from outside. — Philip K. Dick Copy Share Image
Hearts are like tapers, which at beauteous eyes Kindle a flame of love that never dies; And beauty is a flame, where… — Omar Khayyam Copy Share Image
Those who fervently love God are intoxicated by His warmth and live out their addiction like moths drawn to a flame. — Calvin Miller Copy Share Image
I find a fascination, like the fascination for the moth of a star, in those who hold aloof and disdain me. — Logan Pearsall Smith Copy Share Image
The white moth to the closing vine, The bee to the open clover, And the Gypsy blood to the Gypsy blood Ever… — Rudyard Kipling Copy Share Image
We are a material-mad race of people. Build, increase, expand, pile up, hoard! More and more and more. "If we can just… — Eugenia Price Copy Share Image
She was clean": no piercings, tattoos, or scarifications. All the kids were now. And who could blame them, Alex thought, after watching… — Jennifer Egan Copy Share Image
The winter passes and the warm winds of May made me long to wander again. The whistling of a locomotive on a… — Jim Tully Copy Share Image
I think all the songs [at Moth] are about different things, but if we were to speak about it as a whole,… — Caroline Polachek Copy Share Image
Still photographs often differ from life more by their silence than by the immobility of their subjects. Landscape pictures tend to converge… — Robert Adams Copy Share Image
The better part of the man is soon ploughed into the soil for compost. By a seeming fate, commonly called necessity, they… — Henry David Thoreau Copy Share Image
Everything is destroyed by its own particular vice: the destructive power resides within. Rust destroys iron, moths destroy clothes, the worm eats… — Menander Copy Share Image
The space that I can call mine.. is so small that my ideas have become small. I am like a caterpillar in… — Audrey Niffenegger Copy Share Image
It is curious, isn't it, that things you know well never look dirty and dilapidated-other people's old furniture looks shabby and moth-eaten.… — D.E. Stevenson Copy Share Image
taking her hand he led her out into a broad stretch of hard sandy soil that the moon flooded with great splendor.… — F. Scott Fitzgerald Copy Share Image
When somebody is a little bit wrong - say, when a waited puts nonfat milk in your espresso macchiato, instead of lowfat… — Anonymous Copy Share Image
“In the warmer months of the year one or other of those nocturnal insects quite often strays indoors from the small garden… — W. G. Sebald Copy Share Image
“Taryn is beautiful in her heavily embroidered dress, and Vivi radiant in soft violet grey with artfully sewn moths seeming to fly… — Holly Black Copy Share Image
The [peppered-moth] experiments show the effects of predation on the survival of the dark and of the normal forms of the Peppered… — L. Harrison Matthews Copy Share Image
“The possibilities of pleasure seemed that morning so enormous and so various that to have only a moth's part in life, and… — Virginia Woolf Copy Share Image
Summer is a prodigal of joy. The grass Swarms with delighted insects as I pass, And crowds of grasshoppers at every stride… — John Clare Copy Share Image