Coal Turning Into Diamond Quotes

Only under extreme pressure can we change into that which it is in our most profound nature to become . . . That is what people get wrong about transformation. We're not all shallow proteans, forever shifting shape. We're not science fiction. It's like when coal becomes diamond. It doesn't afterwards retain the possibility of change. Squeeze it as hard as you like, it won't turn into a rubber ball, or a Quattro Stagione pizza, or a self-portrait by Rembrandt. It's done.

Shawna smiles demurely at the attendant, her lips barely moving as she speaks to me. "If you had a piece of coal, we could hold her down, shove it up her ass and come collect a big fat diamond in a few days." "I'm pretty sure it takes longer than a few days for coal to turn into a diamond, Shawna." "Not in that tight ass, it wouldn't.

If you had a piece of coal, we could hold her down, shove it up her ass and come collect a big fat diamond in a few days.” “I’m pretty sure it takes longer than a few days for coal to turn into a diamond, Shawna.” “Not in that tight ass, it wouldn’t.

Just as a lump of coal, under pressure, could become a diamond bit, Theo had learned to turn his anger into something he could use.

do you hate that I like you? does it hurt that I love you? would it be best if I thought nothing of you? my brain just loves to turn diamonds back to coal

You can scare him, you bet—he’s a retired salesman, not Superman—but if you load enough tension on top of fright you turn it into anger, same as enough pressure turns coal into a diamond.

Paul said to his Ephesian readers, discouraged because of his imprisonment, “My suffering is for your glory.” Why? Because that is how it works. Suffering and glory are closely linked. Suffering glorifies God to the universe and eventually even achieves a glory for us. And do you know why suffering and glory are so tied to each other? It is because of Jesus. Philippians 2 tells us Jesus laid aside his glory. Why? Charles Wesley’s famous Christmas carol tells you. Mild he lays his glory by; born that men no more may die; Born to raise the sons of earth. Born to give them second birth. Jesus lost all his glory so that we could be clothed in it. He was shut out so we could get access. He was bound, nailed, so that we could be free. He was cast out so we could approach. And Jesus took away the only kind of suffering that can really destroy you: that is being cast away from God. He took that so that now all suffering that comes into your life will only make you great. A lump of coal under pressure becomes a diamond. And the suffering of a person in Christ only turns you into somebody gorgeous. Jesus Christ suffered, not so that we would never suffer but so that when we suffer we would be like him. His suffering led to glory. And you can see it in Paul. Paul is happy to be in prison because “my sufferings are for your glory,” he says. He is like Jesus now. Because that is how Jesus did it. And if you know that that glory is coming, you can handle suffering, too.

Her dream began with winter darkness. Out of this darkness came a great hand, fisted. It was a man's hand, powerful and hollowed by shadows in the wells between the bones and tendons. The fist opened and in the long plain of the palm lay three small pieces of coal. Slowly the hand closed, causing within the fist a tremendous pressure. The pressure began to generate a white heat and still it increased. There was a sense of weighing, crushing time. She seemed to feel the suffering of the coal with her own body, almost beyond the point of being borne. At last she cried out to the hand, Stop it! Will you never end it! Even a stone cannot bear this limit...even a stone...! After what seemed like too long a time for anything molecular to endure, the torments in the fist relaxed. The fist turned slowly and very slowly opened. Diamonds, three of them. Three clear and brilliant diamonds, shot with light, lay in the good palm. A deep voice called to her, Deborah! and then gently, Deborah this will be you.

Hackworth took a bite of his sandwich, correctly anticipating that the meat would be gristly and that he would have plenty of time to think about his situation while his molars subdued it. He did have plenty of time, as it turned out; but as frequently happened to him in these situations, he could not bring his mind to bear on the subject at hand. All he could think about was the taste of the sauce. If the manifest of ingredients on the bottle had been legible, it would have read something like this: Water, blackstrap molasses, imported habanero peppers, salt, garlic, ginger, tomato puree, axle grease, real hickory smoke, snuff, butts of clove cigarettes, Guinness Stout fermentation dregs, uranium mill tailings, muffler cores, monosodium glutamate, nitrates, nitrites, nitrotes and nitrutes, nutrites, natrotes, powdered pork nose hairs, dynamite, activated charcoal, match-heads, used pipe cleaners, tar, nicotine, singlemalt whiskey, smoked beef lymph nodes, autumn leaves, red fuming nitric acid, bituminous coal, fallout, printer's ink, laundry starch, drain deaner, blue chrysotile asbestos, carrageenan, BHA, BHT, and natural flavorings.

Her dream began with winter darkness. Out of this darkness came a great hand, fisted. It was a man's hand, powerful and hollowed by shadows in the wells between the bones and tendons. The fist opened and in the long plain of the palm lay three small pieces of coal. Slowly the hand closed, causing within the fist a tremendous pressure. The pressure began to generate a white heat and still it increased. There was a sense of weighing, crushing time. She seemed to feel the suffering of the coal with her own body, almost beyond the point of being borne. At last she cried out to the hand, <> After what seemed like too long a time for anything molecular to endure, the torments in the fist relaxed. The fist turned slowly and very slowly opened. Diamonds, three of them. Three clear and brilliant diamonds, shot with light, lay in the good palm. A deep voice called to her, <> and then gently, <>

For example, it is only by work we extract gold from the soil. It takes work to discover the oil that is already deposited in the ground. It is work that turns a hill of coal into karats of diamond.

The other thing I remember from the chemistry lab is stuff about pressure. Pressure turns coal into diamonds. Pressure does things.

I see a diamond that someone try to turn back into coal.

I’m doing you a favor,” replied the colonel with a smile of his own. “Just remember what Patton said: Pressure makes diamonds.” “Well, yeah,” said the major in amusement. “If you’re a lump of coal. If you’re a human being, that same pressure turns you into splatter. Like a bug on a windshield.

Hackworth took a bite of his sandwich, correctly anticipating that the meat would be gristly and that he would have plenty of time to think about his situation while his molars subdued it. He did have plenty of time, as it turned out; but as frequently happened to him in these situations, he could not bring his mind to bear on the subject at hand. All he could think about was the taste of the sauce. If the manifest of ingredients on the bottle had been legible, it would have read something like this: Water, blackstrap molasses, imported habanero peppers, salt, garlic, ginger, tomato puree, axle grease, real hickory smoke, snuff, butts of clove cigarettes, Guinness Stout fermentation dregs, uranium mill tailings, muffler cores, monosodium glutamate, nitrates, nitrites, nitrotes and nitrutes, nutrites, natrotes, powdered pork nose hairs, dynamite, activated charcoal, match-heads, used pipe cleaners, tar, nicotine, single-malt whiskey, smoked beef lymph nodes, autumn leaves, red fuming nitric acid, bituminous coal, fallout, printer's ink, laundry starch, drain cleaner, blue chrysotile asbestos, carrageenan, BHA, BHT, and natural flavorings.

You guard your heart so hard I'm surprised it hasn't turned to coal. But instead it sounds like you found a guy who sees you for the diamond you are. And whether you realize it or not, you're worth it. You deserve happiness, on your own terms.

You are a chunk of coal bursting to turn into diamond, and it's self-centricity that keeps you from turning into a diamond by filling your mind with the hooey of comfort and security.

The Stable Song" Remember when our songs were just like prayers. Like gospel hymns that you called in the air. Come down come down sweet reverence, Unto my simple house and ring... And ring Ring like silver, ring like gold Ring out those ghosts on the Ohio Ring like clear day wedding bells Were we the belly of the beast or the sword that fell... We’ll never tell Come to me clear and cold on some sea Watch the world spinning waves, like that machine Now I’ve been crazy couldn’t you tell I threw stones at the stars, but the whole sky fell Now I’m covered up in straw, belly up on the table Well I drank and sang, and passed in the stable. That tall grass grows high and brown, Well I dragged you straight in the muddy ground And you sent me back to where I roam Well I cursed and I cried, but now i know... now I know And I ran back to that hollow again The moon was just a sliver back then And I ached for my heart like some tin man When it came oh it beat and it boiled and it rang... oh it's ringing Ring like crazy, ring like hell Turn me back into that wild haired gale Ring like silver, ring like gold Turn these diamonds straight back into coal. That Sea, The Gambler (2007)

But when I learned from Miss Maggie that coal squeezed by the weight of the world turned to diamonds, I looked at it differently and wondered what other rough and simple stuff held the promise of something rare.