Strands Quotes

Because you are my sister in every fiber of my being ... but there are aother strands that link us, that wouldn't be seen by even the strongest electron microscope ... We are conjoined by hundreds os thousands of memories that silt down into you and stop being memories and become a part of who you are. ~ Rosamund Lupton

A woman once of some height, she is bent small, and the lingering strands of black look dirty in her white hair. She carries a cane, but in forgetfulness, perhaps, hangs it over her forearm and totters along with it dangling loose like an outlandish bracelet. Her method of gripping her gardener is this: he crooks his right arm, pointing his elbow toward her shoulder, and she shakily brings her left forearm up within his and bears down heavily on his wrist with her lumpish freckled fingers. Her hold is like that of a vine to a wall; one good pull will destroy it, but otherwise it will survive all weathers. ~ John Updike

When is your birthday?" ( ... )
Wide silver-gold eyes swung to him. "You don't know?"
"No."
Pouting, she twirled a strand of her hair. "How can you not know?"
"Do you know mine?" he asked.
"Of course I do. It's the day you met me. ~ Gena Showalter

Off come her skirts and petticoats, her lace cuffs and collar, her shoes and whalebone stay, until she lies on her side in nothing but a cotton shift and endless strands of pearls. Dust hangs in a crack of light between red velvet drapes, like stars.

Her dreams are glimpses, bewildered--celestial charts, oceanic swells, massive, moving bodies of water, the heavens as heavenly liquid, familiar whirlpools, the universe as a ship lost at sea--but the ship she imagines arrived safely, years ago, loaded with their possessions. ~ Danielle Dutton

He reaches for a few strands of my hair, twining them around his finger. "You busy later?"
"I was supposed to go to a meet-and-greet in Fairport with Mom, but I told her I needed to study for SATs."
"She believed this? It's summer, Sam."
"Nan's got me signed up for this crazy prep simulation. And . . . I might have told Mom when she was a little distracted."
"But not intentionally, of course."
"Of course not," I say.
"So if I were to come see you after eight, you'd be studying."
"Absolutely. But I might want a . . . study buddy. Because I might be grappling with some really tough problems."
"Grappling, huh?"
"Tussling with," I say. "Wrestling. Handling."
"Gotcha. Sounds like I should bring protective gear to study with you." Jase grins at me.
"You're pretty tough. You'll be fine. ~ Huntley Fitzpatrick

Suddenly William loomed over him, scowling, snarling and bloody, his suit dirt-stained and ripped. "Do you know. How many strands. Of hair I lost. On my way down?"
Whatever. "Math was never my thing, but I'm gonna say you lost…a lot."
Electric-blues glittered with menace. "You are a cruel, sadistic bastard. My hair needs TLC and you…you… Damn you! I've gutted men for less."
"I know. I've watched you." Paris lumbered to his feet and scanned the rocky bank they stood upon, the crimson ocean lapping and bubbling in every direction. The drawbridge was only a fifty-yard dash away. "Don't kill the messenger, but I'm thinking you should change your dating profile to balding."
Masculine cheeks went scarlet as the big bad warrior struggled for a comeback.
…
"One of these days you're going to wake up," William finally said, "and I will have shaved you. Everywhere."
"Won't make a difference. Women will still want me. But you know what else? What I did to you wasn't cruel, Willy." He offered the warrior a white-flag grin. A trick. A lie. "This, however, is."
He grabbed William by the wrist, swung the man around and around before at last releasing him and hurling his body directly onto the bridge. ~ Gena Showalter

Awash in a flood of hostility and despair, they battled and railed and shattered their bodies on one another, unable to find one strand, one sobering swallow of solace. ~ Paullina Simons

We were still so young when our eyes first met. We would run holding hands through the lawn of the college campus. I vividly remember the grass beneath the cherry tree that had water at the tip which touched our legs. I vividly remember how we would talk about our future as the sun rays sparkled like diamonds through the leaves of the trees outside the campus auditorium. I vividly remember your urge to touch my erratic strands in the gentle breeze outside the canteen. And then we allowed distance to conquer the space between us so we could build a career, sculpt a life and keep the promises. And did we not do well! ~ Debalina Haldar

Hey," Trenton said, breathless and sweaty.
He pulled a few yellow strands of fake hair from his face.
"Did you lose a bet?" I asked.
"As a matter of fact, I did."
Taylor and Tyler were across the room, slapping their knees and laughing so hard they could barely breathe.
I slapped Trenton's ass. "You look hot, bro."
"Thanks," he said. The music started and he shook his hips at me. I pushed him away, and, undeterred, he danced across the room to entertain the crowd. ~ Jamie McGuire

Sometimes I think that the long-term work of reading is to discover one by one, the books that hold the scattered elements of our nature, after which the true consummation can begin. We undertake the gradual focused exploration, nuance by nuance, of their meanings, their implications; we follow out the strands that mysteriously connect the words of another with the unformulated stuff of the self. ~ Sven Birkerts

The energy strands and bands of our being are linked in a certain way and makes us what we are. It causes us to perceive a certain level of the dream of life. But you can reorder those. That's magic, you see. ~ Frederick Lenz

Alex gazed at her. Her mouth was slightly open; she ran her fingernail against her lower teeth as she thought. She'd knotted her hair at the nape of her neck again, and a strand had slipped loose onto her shoulder, gleaming in the lantern light. Suddenly all of his objections seemed meaningless. Don't, he thought. You'll regret it.
He didn't care anymore.
Slowly, unable to stop himself, he reached out and cupped his hand around her foot. ~ L.A. Weatherly

Strands of your hair and tendrils of the wind spin into nothingness the memories of that day ... ~ John Geddes

The moonlight fell across her gold strands, looking for all the world like copper threads. I half expected them to sing in clinking charms every time her head moved. I hugged her closely to me, hoping to squeeze the bad memories from her life. I'd absorb them from her, if I could. Just take them and endure the obvious ache they caused her. - Callum Tate from Callum & Harper ~ Fisher Amelie

People claimed witches were nightmares, dreams, but Eva felt they were closer to plants; wild magic grew inside of each of them, waiting to be harvested in the strands of their hair, their salt tears, their spit and blood. ~ Alicia Jasinska

He had murdered any illlusion of Alex Remington. The golden pendant had been replaced by a spiked dog collar, and he was wearing a black T-shirt that hugged his form and showed off the many designs on his arms: Fenris on the right wrist, and Echidna, the greek mother of monsters, high on his left arm. The norse world serpent was wrapped around his left wrist, and a new design had recently been added: Cerberus, the three-headed dog who guarded the gates of Hades. The world serpent was partially obscurred by a black leather knife sheath, which held a silver knife Aubrey had taken from a vampire hunter a few thousand years earlier.
His hair was slightly touseled, as if he'd been running, and a few strands fell across his face.
Looking at him now, Jessica couldn't imagine how she had ever mistaken him for a human. But illusion was Aubrey's art. And it was simple to fool people who expected nothing else.
For the moment, Aubrey appeared to be exactly what he was: stunning, michievous, and completely deadly all at once ~ Amelia Atwater-Rhodes

It's like we're strands of wire intertwined in a great cable that runs through a slot ... Most people lead two-dimensional lives. All they can see is the face of the slot, a cross section, so that the wires look like a mass of separate little circles looking bigger or smaller according to how close you are. They don't
they can't see that these 'circles' are just cross sections of wires that run backward and forward infinitely and that there is a great surge through the whole cable and that anybody who is truly into the full bare essence of the thing ... ~ Tom Wolfe

Thought I saw you on the beach this morning...Thought I saw you standing on the white strand, your back to the wind. The rain had stopped and there was a brisk clarity in the air. You watched me over your left shoulder, head tucked in coyly. Seabirds flying low in the sky, and the grey-green waves at your foot. A whole panorama thrown up behind you.

I was on the coast road coming back from the shops. I stopped walking once I caught sight of you. You were wearing a reefer jacket with the collar turned up against the weather. It might have been navy, but it looked black in the distance. As did your trousers. As did your shoes. All of you was black except your face and hair. You wore no hat...Never once saw you in Winter clothes, yet there you were as clear as day for a whole moment. Only your eyes were visible above the upturned collar. Your hair was in your eyes. You watched me through those pale strands. And I watched you. Intently.

The man from down the road drove by in his faded red car. He was going the other way, so he didn't offer a lift. He just waved. I waved back. And then I turned to you again, and we looked at each other a little longer. Very calm. Heart barely shifted. Too far away to see your features. No matter. There was salt on your face. Sea salt. It was in your hair. It was on your mouth. It was all over you, as though you gazed at me through ice. And it was all over me. It tingled on my skin.

After a time I moved off, and you ~ Claire Kilroy

We cannot turn back the clock and relive cherished pastimes. We move beyond our origins. A person must make their way in an evolving social, political, and economic world order. We must not be too quick writing off the influence of our prior experiences, because the long tentacles the past remain vibrant strands within us. While the past does not cast our future in stone, its durable mold shapes our present. The ingrained strumming of our personal histories, sentimental or otherwise, also portents what might come along in our future. ~ Kilroy J. Oldster

I don't know. How can you know? I…I'm a monster. When I'm hungry, I might do anything."
"Oh no, of course I couldn't possibly understand you." Violet's shadowed face seemed to be wearing a grim and serious smile. "I know, you woke up one day and found out that you couldn't be the person you remembered being, the little girl everybody expected you to be. You just weren't her any more, and there was nothing you could do about it. So your family decided you were a monster and turned on you." Violet sighed, staring out into the darkness.

"Believe me, I do understand that. And let me tell you - from one monster to another - that just because somebody tells you you're a monster, it doesn't mean you are.

"just now you told me what you did because you want me to stop you from eating Pen. If you were a real monster, you wouldn't have done that, would you?"

Trista's eyes stung, and she wiped strands of cobweb away with her sleeve.

"Idiot," added Violet, for good measure. ~ Frances Hardinge

All the strands of my life came together and I really became a man when I moved to Chicago. ~ Barack Obama

Each of us is a unique strand in the intricate web of life and here to make a contribution. ~ Deepak Chopra

Laila watches Mariam glue strands of yarn onto her doll's head. In a few years, this little girl will be a woman who will make small demands on life, who will never burden others, who will never let on that she too had sorrows, disappointments, dreams that have been ridiculed. A woman who will be like a rock in a riverbed, enduring without complaint, her grace not sullied but shaped by the turbulence that washes over her. Already Laila sees something behind this young girl's eyes, something deep in her core, that neither Rasheed nor the Taliban will be able to break. something as hard and unyielding as a block of limestone. Something that, in the end, will be her undoing and Laila's salvation.
The little girl looks up. Puts the doll down. Smiles. ~ Khaled Hosseini

A cord of three strands is not quickly broken (Ecclesiastes 4:12). Obeying God is too hard. Trying to understand, and obey, the Scriptures will break you. If you go it alone. ~ Ben Reed

Trenton raked the strands of hair away from my face and out of my eyes, My entire body was overwhelmed by the most wonderful intensity. It enveloped me, and I cried out as it traveled like electricity throughout my body.
"Goddamn, keep making that sound," he said, breathless. ~ Jamie McGuire

Haven, don't ask me to define the boundaries of normal. You know how I was raised. My father once struck strands of his own pubic hair onto a painting and sold it for a million dollars. ~ Lisa Kleypas

It is not a good idea, either, to attach material such as Krystal Flash or Flashabou, then trim all strands at one spot. This gives most of the reflectiveness at one location - where the strands were severed. Instead, clip off the strands at different lengths along the entire body - that way you'll see little sparkles of light throughout the pattern ~ Lefty Kreh

Miss Marshall was wearing a ghastly green gown, one that had no doubt been lent to her by a friend. It fit rather poorly, gaping at the bosom and stretching at the hips. The color dimmed the fire of her hair - which, without her normal pins, refused to stay in place. Little strands made an auburn halo around her head.
He'd never seen anything quite so lovely. ~ Courtney Milan

This was the same hair that Amar had cut a length of and wrapped a bracelet from its strands, slid it onto his wrist and proclaimed it the finest piece of jewelry he had known. ~ Roshani Chokshi

This web of time–the strands of which approach one another, bifurcate, intersect or ignore each other through the centuries–embraces every possibility. We do not exist in most of them. In some you exist and not I, while in others I do, and you do not, and yet in others both of us exist. In this one, in which chance has favored me, you have come to my gate. In another, you, crossing the garden, have found me dead. In yet another, I say these very same words but am in error, a phantom Time is forever dividing itself toward innumerable futures."

from "Garden of Forking Paths ~ Jorge Luis Borges

I think of something quite different from a snapshot. I know of a lot of poems, some very fine ones, that are like snapshots, but I'm more interested in poetry that is like an endless film, long stories, things that weave together many different strands, like a big piece of cloth, not like a photograph. ~ Robert Bringhurst

She could feel magic in the quiet spring day, like a sorcerer's far-off voice, and lines of poetry floated over her mind as if they were strands of spider-web. ~ Stella Gibbons

I have lived in this tree, in this same hollow," the owl said, "for more years than anyone can remember. But now, when the wind blows hard in winter and rocks the forest, I sit here in the dark, and from deep down in the bole, near the roots, I hear a new sound. It is the sound of strands of wood creaking in the cold and snapping one by one. The limbs are falling; the tree is old, and it is dying. Yet I cannot bring myself, after so many years, to leave, to find a new home and move into it, perhaps to fight for it. I, too, have grown old. One of these days, one of these years, the tree will fall, and when it does, if I am still alive, I will fall with it. ~ Robert C. O'Brien

His short hair is damp and a few strands are plastered to his forehead. His eyes are bluer than blue when he assesses me coolly.
"Ready for me?"
DEAR GOD YES. ~ R.S. Grey

There is a cheap literature that speaks to us of the need of escape. It is true that when we travel we are in search of distance. But distance is not to be found. It melts away. And escape has never led anywhere. The moment a man finds that he must play the races, go the Arctic, or make war in order to feel himself alive, that man has begin to spin the strands that bind him to other men and to the world. But what wretched strands! A civilization that is really strong fills man to the brim, though he never stir. What are we worth when motionless, is the question. ~ Antoine De Saint Exupery

Honestly. Do guys really think that will fool us? 'Whoa, hi there, John. Gosh, for a second there I thought you were going bald, but I see now that you have a full, lush head of hair. Which grows sideways from left to right in sticky strands. Have I ever been this sexually excited? I think not. ~ MaryJanice Davidson

To distract himself from the pain, he focused his blurring vision on the droplets of moisture collecting like diamonds in her abundant curls. Instead of making her hair heavy and straight, the rain seemed to coil the ringlets tighter and anoint the silvery strands with a darker gloss of spun gold. ~ Kerrigan Byrne

Men couldn't care less if your strands are perfectly styled and neat. In fact, he might like you more with some wildness or bedhead, since it shows you're carefree and relaxed. ~ Helen Fisher

Be that blind bard who on the Chian strand, By those deep sounds possessed with inward light, Beheld the Iliad and the Odyssey Rise to the swelling of the voiceful sea. ~ Samuel Taylor Coleridge

When you're looking for a needle in a haystack, don't afraid to burn the haystack to save yourself from spending half your life picking through strands of straw. ~ A.J. Darkholme

If a chain is only as strong as its weakest link, then a family is more like a rope. We're lots of fragile little strands, and we survive by becoming hopelessly intertwined with each other. ~ Brian K. Vaughan

He wanted to wrap his arms around her and kiss away her uncertainty. But if he did that she would bolt. So he brushed stray hairs that had fallen out of her ponytail off her face instead. Ignored how soft the strands felt against his fingers. Pretended his pulse wasn't stampeding like a herd of bison on the plain. ~ Melissa McClone

The strands fell through his fingers. "I have to go," he said softly. ~ James Patterson

I'm sorry, Eli. I should have stayed at Snake Fort - " "No." He grabbed her arm and dragged her against his chest. She fell against him with a gasp, her body stiff. His arms circled her waist and pinned her in place so that even if she'd tried to escape from him she couldn't. "We're staying together." His whisper was harsh. The silky loose strands of her hair blew against his lips. He released a long breath and softened his voice. "Wherever that might be, I want us to be together. ~ Jody Hedlund

Attention to her words was at such a fever pitch that Theo was visited by a delegation of three diamond sellers who begged her aid. That very evening Lady Islay appeared at a ball wearing a necklace that featured no fewer than eight strands of diamonds, caught together by an extraordinary pear-shaped diamond pendant, and casually remarked that she thought a woman should rival the Milky Way at night: *We give babies milk, but ladies? Diamonds.* ~ Eloisa James

Ordinary experience, from waking second to second, is in fact highly synthetic (in the sense of combinative or constructive), and made of a complexity of strands, past memories and present perceptions, times and places, private and public history, hopelessly beyond science's powers to analyse. It is quintessentially 'wild' ... unphilosophical, irrational uncontrollable, incalculable. ~ John Fowles

Let us pick up again these lost strands and weave them again into the fabric of America, sort out the music from the sounds and again respond to the trumpet and the steady drum. ~ Eugene McCarthy

The sleeve covered its appendages well until it reached outward to Grady. Instead of a hand, several dark green and black-splotched tentacles spilled out of the sleeve. They snaked through the air toward Grady's face. They glistened in the early morning light and long strands of a mucous-like substance dripped from them and clung like shiny webs to its robe. ~ Brian Barnett

Words got me into trouble. They are the deadliest weapons of all, so that now the gun seems almost innocent by comparison. I fired the shot to stop the words; they were so busy eating everything up. You have no idea how I hate words, how i see them winding out of people's mouths like sticky strands of a web, infinitely elastic, linking the speaker to the listener forever, and finally weaving an impermeable cocoon around the mind and then the poor, fast-beating heart itself. ~ Susan Fromberg Schaeffer

I was breathless, talking as fast as I could. I was afraid if I stopped talking, even for a second, I'd start sobbing again.
"Whoa, there." Fang smiled and reached up, tracing a hand down the side of my face, winding strands of my hair around his fingers. "Stop talking and let me just tell you how great it is to wake up staring at your face. Okay? ~ James Patterson

My starting point is the fundamental initial fact that each one of us is perforce linked by all the material organic and psychic strands of his being to all that surrounds him ... If we look far enough back in the depths of time, the disordered anthill of living beings suddenly, for an informed observer, arranges itself in long files that make their way by various paths towards greater consciousness. ~ Pierre Teilhard De Chardin

The absence of a focal enemy, which is what the Cold War had provided; the complexity of the developments that are occurring that mean that the world is just extremely complicated - lots of different and competing stories and strands; the continuing reality of megaterrorism; and the dysfunctionality of our politics that has neglected the foundations of the U.S. role in the world; have altogether left us somewhat confused. ~ Graham T. Allison

Time overlaps itself. A breath breathed from a passing breeze is not the whole wind, neither is it just the last of what has passed and the first of what will come, but is more
let me see
more like a single point plucked on a single strand of a vast spider web of winds, setting the whole scene atingle. That way; it overlaps ... As prehistoric ferns grow from bathtub planters. As a shiny new ax, taking a swing at somebody's next year's split-level pinewood pad, bites all the way to the Civil War. As proposed highways break down through the stacked strata of centuries. ~ Ken Kesey

What we call the xenosphere, the psychic link that you are all able to exploit, is made up of strands of alien fungi-like filaments and neurotransmitters. We call the xenoform ascomycetes xenosphericus. It is everywhere, in every environment on Earth. These delicate filaments are too small for the naked eye to see, and they are fragile, but they form multiple links with the natural fungi on human skin. They have an affinity for nerve endings and quickly access the central nervous system. Everybody linked to this network of xenoforms, this xenosphere is uploading information constantly, passively, without knowing. There is a global store of information in the very atmosphere, a worldmind, which only people like you can access. ~ Tade Thompson

While the patriarchal boys in hip-hop crew may talk about keeping it real, there has been no musical culture with black men at the forefront of its creation that has been steeped in the politics of fantasy and denial as the more popular strands of hip-hop. ~ Bell Hooks

The only difference is that Dee's natural coloring looks like an American landscape - country-sky-blue eyes and hair the color of Tennessee wheat fields, golden strands with darker undertones. My hair is nearly black, and I have jealous green eyes. In a fairy tale, she'd play the good fairy. I'd be the evil witch's screwup second cousin. Dee ~ Emery Lord

Finally our eyes held each other.
Don't kiss him.
"I was worried," he said, slowly pulling himself off the bed frame, leaning forward. His face was so close to mine in the quiet morning. My heart faltered once before catching a new rhythm, faster than before. Sebastian's dark hair had never looked so careless and my fingers itched to return to the inky strands. His eyes were the softest mossy green, and I was sure that all his usual awkward reserve had melted in this strange dawn. When I realized that his eyes were glued to my lips, I instinctively parted them, sucking in a fast breath.
Don't you dare kiss him, Evelyn.
He was so close I could have counted the strands of gold that gleamed in the green of his eyes. I could have shifted forward one breath and his lips would be on mine. I was dizzy, lost in the world that existed here between us. ~ Tarun Shanker

She was sound asleep when he came to curl up next to her. She grunted.
"Don't worry. I'm too drunk, I won't do anything," he murmered.
As she had her back to him, he placed his nose on her neck and slid his arm underneath her to be as close to her as possible. Short strands of her hair tickled his nostrils.
"Camille?"
Was she asleep? Was she pretending? No answer either way.
"I like being with you."
A little smile.
Was she dreaming? Was she asleep? Who knows ... ~ Anna Gavalda

Lynn said that therapy was like separating the strands in a tangled web of yarn. It made sense that things would keep getting more separate for awhile so that we eventually came back together in an organized way. (205) ~ Joan Frances Casey

We look at the world through our own eyes, naturally. But by looking from the inside out, we see an inside-out world. This book takes the perspective of the world outside us - a world in which humans are not the measure of all things, a human race among other races ... In our estrangement from nature we have severed our sense of the community of life and lost touch with the experience of other animals ... understanding the human animal becomes easier in context, seeing our human thread woven into the living web among the strands of so many others. ~ Carl Safina

Leo backed me against the door frame, his demeanor turning all 'take-no-prisoners' as he pinned me in place with his hips. His hands traced up and down the curve of my body until they wound their way through the loose strands of my hair. He was in control, I was totally at his mercy, and I. Didn't. Even. Care. ~ Sarah Darlington

The mayor informed General Petronio San Roman of the episode, down to the last literal phrase, in an alarming telegram. General San Roman must have followed his son's wishes to the letter, because he didn't come for him, but sent his wife with their daughters and two other older women who seemed to be her sisters. They came on a cargo boat, locked in mourning up to their necks because of Bayardo San Roman's misfortunes, and with their hair hanging loose in grief. Before stepping onto land, they took off their shoes and went barefoot through the streets up to the hilltop in the burning dust of noon, pulling out strands of hair by the roots and wailing loudly with such high-pitched shrieks that they seemed to be shouts of joy. I watched them pass from Magdalena Oliver's balcony, and I remember thinking that distress like theirs could only be put on in order to hide other, greater shames. ~ Gabriel Garcia Marquez

But, today, the idea of faith returns to me. Faith defies logic and propels us beyond hope because it is not attached to our desires. Faith is the centerpiece of a connected life. It allows us to live by the grace of invisible strands. It is a belief in a wisdom superior to our own. Faith becomes a teacher in the absence of fact. ~ Terry Tempest Williams

Fortunately, the time has long passed when people liked to regard the United States as some kind of melting pot, taking men and women from every part of the world and converting them into standardized, homogenized Americans. We are, I think, much more mature and wise today. Just as we welcome a world of diversity, so we glory in an America of diversity
an America all the richer for the many different and distinctive strands of which it is woven. ~ Hubert H. Humphrey

Rider scooped Willow into his arms and carried her outside to the nearest tree, Miriam right behind him.
Awkwardly shifting his burden, he sat in the shade and settled Willow in his lap. "Mrs. Brigham, could you lend me a hand?" he asked anxiously. "I think we should loosen her clothing or something."
Rider propped Willow's limp form over one arm, giving Miriam access to the back of the girl's dress. As the corset came into view, he snorted in disgust. "Unlace that contraption, too. No wonder she fainted; she can't breathe."
Miriam looked aghast. "Oh, but I can't do that! It wouldn't be decent."
"She's wearing something under it, isn't she?"
"Well, yes, but--"
"Good God, I'll do it myself!" His free hand produced a small knife from his pants pocket. The blade flashed and before Miriam could stop him, the corset ribbons were severed.
Immediately, Willow inhaled deeply. Rider shifted her back into the bend of his arm and gently patted her cheeks. "Come on, little girl, open those big blue eyes."
Inhaling another deep breath, Willow gradually came around. She blinked at the leafy roof overhead, then focused a confused gaze on Rider's smiling face. "What happened? How did I get out here?" Glancing around, she impatiently brushed a few errant strands of hair from her eyes.
"Oh, my dear, you fainted," Miriam fussed.
"Fainted! I've never fainted in my life. I'm not the fainting kind."
"Maybe not under normal circumstances," Ride ~ Charlotte McPherren

They met in the library searching for old Sidney Sheldon books. Her silence and calmness drew her to him. His brooding nature drew him to her. Conversations flowed like the waters of a water-fall! And every time they met their conversations sparked flames like the forest caught in a wild fire!

There was something in her eyes! Her eyes were expressive and from the first day that they met, they spoke to him a million things! He could know which night she had cried, which night she had slept peacefully and which night of hers had been spent in complete sleeplessness. He began reading her eyes more deeply and passionately than the books in the library...

And being an obsessive man, he did things normal men did not! Like he knew the number of strands of hair that her eye-lashes had! ~ Avijeet Das

Science comforting man's animal poverty and leisuring his toil, hath humanized manners and social temper, and now above her globe-spredd net of speeded intercourse hath outrun all magic, and disclosing the secrecy of the reticent air hath woven a web of invisible strands spiriting the dumb inane with the quick matter of life ... ~ Robert Bridges

Malick reached up and gently fingered strands of matted chestnut out of Fen's eyes. Almost enspelled. ~ Carole Cummings

Certain springs are tapped only when we are alone. Women need solitude in order to find again the true essence of themselves; that firm strand which will be the indispensable center of a whole web of human relationships. ~ Anne Morrow Lindbergh

Many strong emotions are actually intricate tapestries woven of various strands. ~ Sharon Salzberg

Turn around….you've got grass and dead flowers…"

My fingers naturally began to comb through my long, black strands, shaking things loose as Sarti carefully removed more stubborn pieces. The flowers had been left over from my forced marriage to Thaddeus. The grass, from a sensual night with Kresh the eve of my honeymoon. Devilish irony. ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

America is woven of many strands. I would recognise them and let it so remain. Our fate is to become one, and yet many. This is not prophecy, but description. ~ Ralph Ellison

Thus I, gone forth, as spiders do,
In spider's web a truth discerning,
Attach one silken strand to you
For my returning. ~ E.B. White

Your intent to find a mate sends out 'strands of consciousness'
however, composed of desire and intent. Like detectives, these
search the world, looking in a completely different way than
a physical sleuth. The world is probed with your characteristics
in mind, seeking for someone else with characteristics that will
best suit your own. ~ Seth

An imaginary circle of empathy is drawn by each person. It circumscribes the person at some distance, and corresponds to those things in the world that deserve empathy. I like the term "empathy" because it has spiritual overtones. A term like "sympathy" or "allegiance" might be more precise, but I want the chosen term to be slightly mystical, to suggest that we might not be able to fully understand what goes on between us and others, that we should leave open the possibility that the relationship can't be represented in a digital database.

If someone falls within your circle of empathy, you wouldn't want to see him or her killed. Something that is clearly outside the circle is fair game. For instance, most people would place all other people within the circle, but most of us are willing to see bacteria killed when we brush our
teeth, and certainly don't worry when we see an inanimate rock tossed aside to keep a trail clear.

The tricky part is that some entities reside close to the edge of the circle. The deepest controversies often involve whether something or someone should lie just inside or just outside the circle. For instance, the idea of slavery depends on the placement of the slave outside the circle, to make some people nonhuman. Widening the circle to include all people and end slavery has been one of the epic strands of the human story - and it isn't quite over yet.

A great many other controversies fit well in the model. The ~ Jaron Lanier

The strands of DNA are like strings, and it's as if I am a walking guitar, a musical being whose vibration can be heard as love. ~ Jarod Kintz

Her hair came undone and rose off her shoulders, quivering as if from a breeze. Static kept snapping through the strands, and Jasmira's eyes turned completely white. Her arms were covered in spiraled script. It crawled and twisted on her skin. The text shone burgundy. Single letters kept separating and slowly flaking off. They resembled tiny red fire sparks, burning brightly, and then disappearing all together. ~ A.O. Peart

Perhaps any life is such: different stories like different strands, each distinct in itself, each true, yet wound together to form one rope, one life. ~ Lee Smith

I realized then, this connection with him would be difficult to cut loose, that his presence was weaving into the tapestry of my life, and that I had no wish to untangle the woven strands any more than I wished to release his hold on my hand. ~ Jody Hedlund

I like what I hear as a resulting combination of these two strands ... something of a combination of familiarity and, for lack of a better word, strangeness. ~ Alex North

Will you teach your children what we have taught our children? That the earth is our mother? What befalls the earth befalls all the sons of the earth. This we know: the earth does not belong to man, man belongs to the earth. All things are connected like the blood that unites us all. Man did not weave the web of life, he is merely a strand in it. Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself. One thing we know: our god is also your god. The earth is precious to him and to harm the earth is to heap contempt on its creator. ~ Chief Seattle

There is his right leg over my right leg, my left leg over his right leg, his left arm under my back, my right arm around his head, his right arm across my chest, my left arm across his right arm, and my right hand stroking his right temple. Now it becomes difficult to tell what part of what body is actually mine and what part his. I rub his head as it lies pressed against mine, and I hear the strands of his hair chafing against his skull as though it is my own hair chafing against my own skull, as though I now hear with his ears, and from inside his head. ~ Lydia Davis

She had no need in her heart for either book or magazine. She had her own way of escape, her own passage into contentment: her rosary. That string of white beads, the tiny links worn in a dozen places and held together by strands of white thread which in turn broke regularly, was, bead for bead, her quiet flight out of the world. Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. And Maria began to climb. Bead for bead, life and living fell away. Hail Mary, Hail Mary. Dream without sleep encompassed her. Passion without flesh lulled her. Love without death crooned the memory of belief. She was away: she was free; she was no longer Maria, American or Italian, poor or rich, with or without electric washing machines and vacuum cleaners; here was the land of all-possessing. Hail Mary, Hail Mary, over and over, a thousand and a hundred thousand times, prayer upon prayer, the sleep of the body, the escape of the mind, the death of memory, the slipping away of pain, the deep silent reverie of belief. Hail Mary and Hail Mary. It was for this that she lived. ~ John Fante

I became a reporter because I never found out the ending to my own story. Thirty years after Ben's abduction, the only answers I could find were for others, the victims, or those they left behind. The crime beat was a natural for me. The people I wrote about were the most fragile, the most broken, and they needed the most answers. I pieced together the frayed strands that had once been their lives, not always happy, but better off than where they ended up. I had to tell their stories. I felt like I owed the victims at least that...Julia Gooden, THE LAST TIME SHE SAW HIM ~ Jane Haseldine

The strands are all there; to the memory nothing is ever lost. ~ Eudora Welty

Rage and unbearable pain meshed together like twin strands in an ever-tightening rope. ~ Steven Erikson

The virus seemed to be thriving on his misery, relentlessly tearing through his insides.
Every day it made its rounds through his body. It started at his fingers, making them itch to touch her until he could almost feel her fleshy lips beneath his thumb, the silky strands of her hair sliding through his fingers. It would then move up to his arms, creating an urge to hold her, an urge that could not be fulfilled.
Next it went for his eyes, causing him to see her everywhere, in every little thing. He would see her in the kitchen, making coffee. He would see her cuddled up on the sofa, watching T.V. He had to blink several times before he realised that she wasn't really there. It would then move to his heart, ruthlessly choking it until it was so heavy and so sore, he could feel the pain of losing her in every beat.
And then, finally, just as night fell, it would attack his brain, invoking images of her.
Thoughts and memories and dreams. He could not take much more. It was slowly driving him insane. He could not break out of these shackles. ~ Jacqueline Francis - The Journal

The gaping hole in her heart is amplified when she catches a glimpse of the strands of silver hair framing her once young face in the mirror. ~ Raquel Cepeda

Nick's number waited impatiently on the screen, tapping its foot. I could press the red button to cancel the call. Without pressing anything, I set the phone down on my bedside table, crossed my arms,and glared at it.
Good:Nick wouldn't think I was chasing him.
Bad:Nick would die alone in his house from complications related to his stupendous wipeout.The guilt of knowing I could have saved his life if not for my outsized ego would be too much for me to bear.I would retreat from public life.I would join a nearby convent and knit potholders from strands of my own hair.No,I would crochet Christmas ornaments in the shape of delicate snowflakes.Red snowflakes! They would be sold in the souvenir shops around town.I would support a whole orphanage from the proceeds of snowflakes I crocheted from my hair.All the townspeople of Snowfall would tell tourists the story of Crazy Sister Hayden and the tragedy of her lost love.
Or I could call Nick.Jesus! I snatched up the phone and pressed the green button.
His phone switched straight to voice mail.Great,I hadn't found out whether he was dying,and if he recovered later,he would see my number on his phone and roll his eyes.
Damage control: Beeeeep!
"Hey,Nick,it's Hayden.Just,ah, wanted to know how a crash like that feels." Wait,I was trying to get him to call me back,right?He would not return my call after a message like that. "Actually just wondering whether you're ready to make out again and then have anoth ~ Jennifer Echols

Dee's natural colouring looks like an American landscape - country-sky-blue eyes and hair the colour of Tennessee wheat fields, golden strands with darker undertones. My hair is nearly black, and I have jealous green eyes.

In a fairytale she'd play the good fairy. I'd be the evil witch's screwup second cousin. ~ Emery Lord

A bedraggled woman stood on his doorstep in the pouring rain, and his first impulse was to slam the door in her face.
But she had clearly come as far as she could; her pale face was twisted in pain, and she shivered convulsively beneath a denim jacket that was as soaking wet as the rest of her. Long black strands of hair hung down in twisted ribbons like seaweed in the vanishing daylight, reminding him of a sea creature he'd once dated briefly in his more adventurous youth. ~ Deborah Blake

Pain and suffering are the dark strands through the tapestry of your life, providing the shadows that give depth and dimension to the masterpiece God is fashioning within you. ~ Joseph Girzone

The dotted line my father's ashplant made On Sandymount Strand Is something else the tide won't wash away. ~ Seamus Heaney

Silvery dancing strands that seemed the pure play of light, light as evanescent news, ideas borne on light. ~ Don DeLillo

A holistic solution to income inequality is going to take a lot of work, but every time you prove that one of the strands is achievable and that it has a positive impact on people's lives you take another step towards proving the bigger theory of the case. ~ Bill De Blasio

His hand in my hair makes a tight fist, pulling on the strands and he brings my face right up to his. "If you think any of this is easy, you're wrong," he growls.
And then he's kissing me… ~ Karina Halle

I have a lot of time to think. To look at the strands of the past weave themselves into the knots of the present, and to imagine how the future might unfold from them. So many possibilities. Like a game of chess. And you, my little pawn, you are the catalyst, walking through the board one small step at a time, towards ... what? What sort of endgame will you bring us all, Orphan? ~ Lavie Tidhar

She is an animal. Servile as a dog. And yet if he is careful to make no demands, to leave the air between them open, another version of the windup girl emerges. As precious and rare as a living bo tree. Her soul, emerging from within the strangling strands of her engineered DNA. ~ Paolo Bacigalupi

Alessandro gathered her into his arms and flipped her over so that she was on top of him, her blonde hair falling over him like a gold curtain. The strands tickled his face as she righted herself over him. She caught her lower lip between her teeth as he pushed up inside of her, and Alessandro reached up, bringing her mouth down, wanting to taste that swollen lip. Her breath wafted over his face, and he grabbed her hips, pulling her down as he pushed up deeper, wanting to fill her to her very soul. ~ E. Jamie

In all things there is beauty. In the glint of dew clinging to the strands of a spider's web; in the way the setting sun winks off shards of broken glass; in the rainbow forming in the soap suds in a sink full of dirty dishes; in a blade of grass which manages to force its way, with patience and time, through the all too willing grasp of sidewalk cement. It is in the faded brown of leaves, turning, twisting against their fate, as they fall to the ground, light and dry as brittle bones, and in the bare, thin-tipped branches, denuded by a change in season. It is in the way a stranger's laughter cradles you if you let it. It is in the intricate scars of a lover's back and in our upturned eyes when we ask for forgiveness. ~ Marta Curti