Nor second he, that rode sublime Upon the seraph-wings of ecstasy, The secrets of th'abyss to spy. He passed the flaming bounds of place and time: 370 The living throne, the sapphire-blaze, Where angels tremble, while they gaze, He saw; but blasted with excess of light, Closed his eyes in endless night.
His love was passion's essence:as a tree On fire by lightning, with ethereal flame Kindled he was, and blasted.Rochdale
Curse the blasted, jelly-boned swines, the slimy, the belly-wriggling invertebrates, the miserable sodding rotters, the flaming sods, the snivelling, dribbling, dithering, palsied, pulse-less lot that make up England today.
If ever I utter an oath again may my soul be blasted to eternal damnation!George Bernard Shaw
I wrote my first story when I was fifteen, and sent it—to Adventure, I believe. Three years later I managed to break into Weird Tales. Three years of writing without selling a blasted line. (I never have been able to sell to Adventure; guess my first attempt cooked me with them for ever!)robert e. howard
O fairest flower! no sooner blown but blasted, Soft silken primrose fading timelessly.john milton
On the blasted heath Fell Upas sits, the hydra-tree of death.
Looks like Phelous has blasted off again!
Splendid! You've liberated the sarcophagus from its ancient vestibule. Give me a moment to disable these blasted spikes.
Does one of you like to have a garden of palms and vines with streams flowing in it -- he has therein all kinds of fruits -- and old age has overtaken him and he has weak offspring; when (lo!) a whirlwind with fire in it smites it so it becomes blasted. Thus God makes the messages clear to you that you may reflect.
You were half blasted ere I knew you
There was a rocky valley between Buxton and Bakewell?divine as the vale of Tempe; you might have seen the gods there morning and eveningApollo and the sweet Muses of the Light? You enterprised a railroad?you blasted its rocks away? And, now, every fool in Buxton can be at Bakewell in half-an-hour, and every fool in Bakewell at Buxton.john ruskin
This is practically the language used to fallen women, and chiefly by their own sex: "God may forgive you, but we never can!" a declaration which, however common, in spirit if not in substance, is, when one comes to analyse it, unparalleled in its arrogance of blasphemy. That for a single offence, however grave, a whole life should be blasted, is a doctrine repugnant even to Nature's own dealings in the visible world.dinah maria mulock