Weaving Quotes

It is a formidable list of jobs: the whole of the spinning industry, the whole of the dyeing industry, the whole of the weaving industry. The whole catering industry and - which would not please Lady Astor, perhaps - the whole of the nation's brewing and distilling. All the preserving, pickling and bottling industry, all the bacon-curing. And (since in those days a man was often absent from home for months together on war or business) a very large share in the management of landed estates. Here are the women's jobs - and what has become of them? They are all being handled by men. It is all very well to say that woman's place is the home - but modern civilisation has taken all these pleasant and profitable activities out of the home, where the women looked after them, and handed them over to big industry, to be directed and organised by men at the head of large factories. Even the dairy-maid in her simple bonnet has gone, to be replaced by a male mechanic in charge of a mechanical milking plant. ~ Dorothy L. Sayers

Ultimately, it is impossible to separate word and deed ministry because human beings are integrated wholes - body and soul. It is both natural and necessary that ministers of mercy also minister the Word while they are in the process of meeting human needs, and that communicators of the gospel also show compassion with regard to the material needs of the people they are trying to reach. An integrative ministry means weaving together word and deed ministry as much as possible. ~ Timothy Keller

I closed my eyelids, and imagination, taking up the thread of thought, shot its swift shuttle back across the ages, weaving a picture on their blackness so real and vivid in its details that I could almost for a moment think that I had triumphed o'er the Past, and that my spirit's eyes had pierced the mystery of Time. ~ H. Rider Haggard

No mistaking his accent. He was English. And rich, judging by his threads. Double-breasted coat. Fisherman-style, but the kind you saw on runways, not gangways. He was weaving in place and reeked of alcohol.
That sealed it for me. I hauled off and punched him.
He fell gracefully. Knee, hip, shoulder. Like some part of him had decided,What the heck. I'm passing out tonight anyway. Might as well get started now. ~ Veronica Rossi

Here you've been, a spider in the corner, observing, weaving Charlotte's web of mystery. ~ Shannon Hale

But her life was as cold as an attic facing north; and boredom, like a silent spider, was weaving its web in the shadows, in every corner of her heart. ~ Gustave Flaubert

Alignment begins with a constituency of one. These are the individuals whose substance is real, pure and nonnegotiable. They share their vulnerabilities and fears in complement to their strengths. They are comfortable weaving all parts of their lives together in an integrated way. Our level of effectiveness, contribution and integrity of work and life are in direct correlation with our level of integration, self-actualization and total alignment fo body, mind and spirit. ~ Kristin S. Kaufman

The wave of pure outrage blindsided me. I shouldn't be here, I thought. This is utterly fucked up. I should have been sitting in a garden down the road, barefoot with a drink in my hand, swapping the day's work stories with Peter and Jamie. I had never thought about this before, and it almost knocked me over: all the things we should have had. We should have stayed up all night together studying and stressing out before exams, Peter and I should have argued over who got to bring Jamie to our first dance and slagged her about how she looked in her dress. We should have come weaving home together, singing and laughing and inconsiderate, after drunken college nights. We could have shared a flat, taken off Interrailing around Europe, gone arm-in-arm through dodgy fashion phases and low-rent gigs and high-drama love affairs. Two of us might have been married by now, given the other one a godchild. I had been robbed blind. ~ Tana French

Initially I probably didn't even call it acting, but dressing up or something. As a kid I think you fully imagine the world in which you want to inhabit, so you put some clothes on and just kind of freely imagine this world, and it's a total imaginary world. ~ Hugo Weaving

When people ask what kind of nonfiction I write, I say 'all kinds,' but really I mean I don't write any kind at all: I'm trying to dissolve the borders between memoir and journalism and criticism by weaving them together. ~ Leslie Jamison

How could he relax his guard when beams of neurotic energy, like searchlights weaving about a prison compound, allowed no thought to escape, no remark to go unchecked. ~ Edward St. Aubyn

Coral slows us down. She has no visible injuries, now that she has bathed and had various cuts and scrapes bandaged, but she is obviously weak. She falls behind as soon as we begin to move, and Alex hangs back with her. In the early part of the day, even though I try to ignore it, I can hear the ribbon of their conversation weaving up and through the other voices. Once, I hear Alex burst out laughing. In ~ Lauren Oliver

Don't start weaving a social hypothesis in front of an angry woman holding a blade. ~ Terry Pratchett

White Evangelicals neither obscure nor ignore their religious convictions when they declare their allegiance to the 45th president. In fact, their actions indicate a preeminent concern with upholding orthodoxy. In the case of President Trump, observers should focus on discerning the orthodoxy of an actor who is perceived as religiously legitimate primarily because he engages in actions in support of religiously defined group interests rather than as a result of statements of belief or piety of behavior. While fear, nostalgia, racial resentment, and white nationalism have all been analytical pieces of the Trump support puzzle scholars have been weaving together since November 2016, a critical aspect of Trump support is to assert, rather than deny, that he is indeed unexpectedly religiously orthodox in the conduct of his presidency ~ Gerardo Marti

Quickly, I slid into the rifts between stars. I imagined the space as a sphere bedizened with little astral ornaments, and soon those heavy celestial bodies became small as candies held in one's palms. The thread easily looped them together.
I grinned, turning to Amar. Between us was a sphere thick with stars and around us twined soft shadows like cats weaving between ankles.
"Magnificent," he said.
His gaze was full of awe, but I saw something else in his eyes. Longing. Then, he reached into the sphere, drawing out the string with the three stars. He twisted them between his hands, fashioning a constellation no larger than a sparrow. Amar stepped forward, sliding the stars above my ear. It cast a glow that turned his face silvery and beautiful.
"There, my queen," he said. "A constellation to wear in your hair. ~ Roshani Chokshi

So it was in Botswana, almost everywhere; ties of kinship, no matter how attenuated by distance or time, linked one person to another, weaving across the country a human blanket of love and community. And in the fibres of that blanket there were threads of obligation that meant that one could not ignore the claims of others. Nobody should starve; nobody should feel that they were outsiders; nobody should be alone in their sadness. ~ Alexander McCall Smith

In pagan times women were buried with accoutrements that reflected the female role in society. Instead of the tools, weapons and hunting dogs that accompanied men, women took household utensils, implements for needlework, spinning and weaving, jewellery and lapdogs with them on their journey to the next life. ~ Else Roesdahl

Not everything that happens during the day is an open portending a good or evil development in the future, but everything has meaning to one degree or another, for the world is an ever-weaving tapestry from which no thread can be pulled without destroying the integrity of the cloth. ~ Dean Koontz

We bumped into other silent lines of kids going in the same direction. We looked like we were much younger and our lines were headed to the cafeteria or recess or the carpool line. Or it could've been a fire drill. Except for the stone-faced police officers weaving between us with rifles. ~ Laura Anderson Kurk

With digital, you do have the advantage of having an absolutely rock steady image because there's no projector gate, no perforations, no film weaving through a machine. And there's no dust and no scratching. ~ Greg MacGillivray

So not only was it possible to implant false new memories in the brain, but people embraced and embellished them, unknowingly weaving fantasy into the fabric of their identity. ~ David Eagleman

I realized early on, maybe better than some of my competitors did, that a textile business can run only if you have scale. I decided to horizontally and vertically integrate, adding everything from spinning, dyeing, weaving, and stitching to processing and packing. ~ Mian Muhammad Mansha

I was born Pauline Matthews and grew up in Bradford as one of three children - I had an older brother, David, and an older sister, Betty. My father Fred worked in the mills as a textile weaving supervisor, and my mother, Mary, was a housewife. ~ Kiki Dee

EFFERVESCE AND OBSESSION

Under the influence of this sensational climax I am reminded of the inundated calm before the storm as I find my mind to see through those same eyes that I have before. The curving slippage of her dynamic vehemence hums over me in a refreshing fixation that imbues this inseparable bond of the eternities. Her single touch sends shock waves down my entire vessel sending our bodies into a confluence of luscious allure. Her hips begin weaving in and out gently oscillating against me in a balmy nubile urge of effervesce and obsession. Again I occlude her recumbent orifice with the soft clasp of my wet lips, satiating my guest with an all-stimulating and interplanetary escape. In a largo samba-like motion I simultaneously absorb and alleviate the tension lingering beneath her plum fuselage as an overflowing ovulation of seismic and fulminating convulsage travels through the apex of her feminous core, following the crevice between her legs like the gentle waters that flow through the shaded gorge. As she levitates into a liberating reflex of celestial zest her panting grip begins to measure the odometer of our obsession. ~ Luccini Shurod

She woke from dreamless rest to find her lap filled with wildflowers-blue and gold violets, white starworts with bright yellow centers, wild geraniums, purple heather, pale lavender bellflowers, creamy butterworts...a treasure trove of nature's jewels.
"Where did these come from?" she asked her warrior husband.
He leaned back on his elbows and studied the sea. "Some trolls came by and left them."
"Trolls picking flowers?"
"More believable, surely, than me doing it?"
She laughed and surprised him by competently weaving the summer's late blossoms into a garland for her hair.
"How is it you know how to do that," he asked, "when you are so thoroughly undomestic?"
She threw a purple aster at him and laughed again. "I thought I was managing to conceal that."
"Oh,certainly. ~ Josie Litton

It is with this movement, with the passage and dissolution of impressions, images, sensations, that analysis leaves off - that continual vanishing away, that strange, perpetual weaving and unweaving of ourselves. ~ Walter Pater

The energies that make us act out of anger,fear,insecurity and doubt are extremely familiar. They are like an old,dark house we return to whenever things get too hard to handle.It feels risky to leave this house and see what's outside,yet we have to leave if we expect to be loved.

So we take the risk.We walk out into the light and offer ourselves to the beloved.This feels wonderful;it's like nothing we have imagined in our old,dark house.But when things get tough,we run back inside,we choose familiarity to fear and lovelessness over the vulnerability of love, until finally we feel safe enough to go back and try love again.

This is essentially the rhythm of every intimate relationship-risk and retreat. Over and over we repeat this rhythm,accepting love and pushing it away until finally something miraculous happiness. The old,dark house isn't necessary anymore.We look around, and we have a new house, a house of light. Where did it come from?How did we build it? It was built from the love of the heart.It has silently been weaving our higher and lower natures,blending fear,anger,survival and protection into the energies of devotion,trust,compassion and acceptance. ~ Deepak Chopra

God had sucked Leo off in the shower when his hard-on wouldn't go away. He couldn't take his eyes off the big man as water sluiced down his body, weaving over all those muscles. Day knew he had it bad, he was crazy about God. As ~ A.E. Via

By habitus, I mean dispositions that inhere and mold the deepest, subtlest, intricate structures of personhood, are constituted and emergent in the most elusive folds and lineaments of consciousness, and are articulated in lastingly resilient, enduring textual tapestries of experience, orientations, desires. The range of habitus is deep and broad: habitus forms the long arc of evolutionary developments and arrangements of the body in action and at rest, posture, gait, stance, and gesture; it is the silent teacher of the phonemic alphabet, determining subtle distinctions of timbre and tone, accents and intonations in voice articulations; it is the subcutaneous, ingrained dynamic inhering in daily competencies, executed flawlessly and yet seemingly unconsciously, such as balancing huge loads the size of a person's body weight on the head as Kikuyu women often do, or walking fearlessly on narrow glacial paths through plunging cliffs as the Sherpas do, or weaving in and out of traffic while engaged in deep conversations on a cell phone as Californians do. Habitus describes the imbrication of structure and culture in desire. It is what defines subtle distinctions of taste, those almost ineffable differences of sweetness, succulence, spiciness, and bitterness in food and drink; the raging fetishes and unbidden cravings that shadow sexuality; the fickle difference between scents that intoxicate or trigger upheavals of wretching. Habitus, then, is "human nature" understood as the dee ~ Omedi Ochieng

Never send a human to do a machine's job ~ Hugo Weaving

Abruptness is an eloquence in parting, when spinning out the time is but the weaving of new sorrow. ~ John Suckling

Everyone has a breaking point, Riley. He hit his long time ago.
But you didn't.
He smiled and sqeezed her hand.'Because of you.'
Weaving his arm around her waist, they walked up the stairs in tandem.
- Riley Blackthorne and Paul Blackthorne ~ Jana Oliver

Nooooooooooo!" Screaming the word, Amy and Dan moved as one.
Time slowed down, which, Dan knew from experience, often happened when you were in midair. By the time they leaped onto the hood of Fiske's car (oops, dents), and Dan had ripped off a windshield wiper to use as a weapon (probably not the best idea, but hey, he was improvising), Scarey Harley Dude had turned around.
He strode off in his motorcycle boots, moving swiftly to his bike without seeming to hurry. His helmet back on, sunglasses adjusted, he roared off straight into the road, weaving through the thick traffic like smoke.
Amy's face was squashed against the windshield. Dan held the wiper aloft like a club.
And Evan Tolliver stood on the sidewalk, blinking at them.
Dan waved the windshield wiper at him. "Hey, bro. We didn't want to miss our ride. ~ Jude Watson

Natalie was one of the confident skaters weaving in and out of bodies, natural movement that succeeded because there wasn't too much thought put into it. Relaxed. It reminded him of wild particles pulled and repelled into a rapidly curving orbit. Pattern within apparent chaos. ~ Karl Drinkwater

In the courtyard there was an angel of black stone, and its angel head rose above giant elephant leaves; the stark glass angel eyes, bright as the bleached blue of sailor eyes, stared upward. One observed the angel from an intricate green balcony - mine, this balcony, for I lived beyond in three old white rooms, rooms with elaborate wedding-cake ceilings, wide sliding doors, tall French windows. On warm evenings, with these windows open, conversation was pleasant there, tuneful, for wind rustled the interior like fan-breeze made by ancient ladies. And on such warm evenings this town is quiet. Only voices: family talk weaving on an ivy-curtained porch; a barefoot woman humming as she rocks a sidewalk chair, lulling to sleep a baby she nurses quite publicly; the complaining foreign tongue of an irritated lady who, sitting on her balcony, plucks a fryer, the loosened feathers floating from her hands, slipping into air, sliding lazily downward. ~ Truman Capote

The dark and the snow are too thick for him to see beyond the first trees. He's been in there before at this time, when the dark shuts down in early winter. But now he pays attention, he notices something about the bush that he thinks he has missed those other times. How tangled up in itself it is, how dense and secret. It's not a matter of one tree after another, it's all the trees together, aiding and abetting one another and weaving into one thing. A transformation, behind your back.
There's another name for the bush, and this name is stalking around in his mind, in and out of where he can almost grasp it. But not quite. It's a tall word that seems ominous but indifferent. ~ Alice Munro

The weaving of mankind into one community does not imply the creation of a homogeneous community, but rather the reverse; the welcome and adequate utilization of distinctive quality in an atmosphere of understanding ... Communities all to one pattern, like boxes of toy soldiers, are things of the past, rather than of the future. ~ H.G.Wells

It's the moon that makes it so still, weaving some mystery. ~ Fyodor Dostoyevsky

All writers are magpies, right? We're always stealing bits from different places and then weaving them into our little nest. ~ Stacey D'Erasmo

Vivian's first impression of Solidago was that she had travelled back in time, but not to a time where architecture had been invented. All houses were twisted out of shape, to say the least. Windows either too large to open or too small to make a difference peppered the city in places one would never dream of having one.

The walls were mostly cast in brickwork by the kind of stonemason whose day job was financial advising. Skewed walls with more bricks than mortar, knotted chimneys keeping the smoke inside and cupping rooftops whose main purpose was to gather rainwater – Solidago had it all and more.

As the oldest civilization of the cosmos, Alarians might have been excellent at healing, philosophizing and weaving into the fabric of reality, but they were very poor city builders. ~ Louise Blackwick

In the way of bookish children, she carried her books into trees and along the banks of chuckling creeks, weaving her way along their slippery shores with the sort of grace that belongs only to bibliophiles protecting their treasures. ~ Seanan McGuire

It's a real pleasure to go to work when you're in the most extraordinary surroundings, and working with people who are young and interested and creatively keen. ~ Hugo Weaving

Weaving in and out of traffic, she tooted the horn, mounted the footpath when needed and drove as fast as her Fiat would allow. ~ Toni Pike

Ma was out back, head in hands, weaving in and out of her heaped-up crap. It was both melodramatic and not. I mean, when Ma feels something deeply, that's what she does: melodrama. Which makes it, I guess, not melodrama? ~ George Saunders

Made up of a dozen billion microscopic nerve-cell units interconnected by millions upon millions of conducting nerve-threads weaving incredibly intricate patterns, the brain, as an object of research, presents a defiant challenge to its own ingenuity. ~ William Feindel

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

Money. An instrument invented in ancient temple complexes, to keep track of debt: counters that acquired mobility and went a-walking, weaving webs of debt into vast and intricate meshes, enslaving and directing the labor of billions in service of the obligations created by its issuance ... Money: a shadow play projected on the walls of our minds by the dark sun of debt. ~ Charles Stross

Most talented with a God given talent for weaving words of heartfelt wonder. ~ Grange Lady Haig Rutan

No race is more adept than humans at weaving a mask of excuses, at ultimately claiming good intent. And no race is more adept at believing its own claims. How many wars have been fought, man against man, with both armies espousing that god, a goodly god, was on their side and in their hearts? But ~ R.A. Salvatore

Secrets upon secrets were weaving into a strange and mysterious fabric that would ultimately clothe his future. ~ Jesikah Sundin

I can read it.
I can read her.
Cuz she's thinking about how her own parents also came here with hope like my ma. She's wondering if the hope at the end of our hope is just as false as the one that was at the end of my ma's. And she;s taking the words of my ma and putting them into the mouths of her own ma and pa and hearing them say that they love her and they miss her and they wish her the world. And she's taking the song of my pa and she's weaving it into everything else till it becomes a sad thing all her own.
And it hurts her, but it's an okay hurt, but it hurts still, but it's good, but it hurts.
She hurts.
I know all this.
I know it's true.
Cuz I can read her.
I can read her Noise even tho she ain't got none.
I know who she is.
I know Viola Eade. ~ Patrick Ness

When I see Lemlem walking around New York City, it's just mind-boggling, because I know it came from this one man sitting and weaving this little product. ~ Liya Kebede

I like to make things, but I looked at old craft books on weaving or mosaics or whatever, I'm like, 'I don't really know anything about that stuff.' ~ Amy Sedaris

People are more likely to pass me on the street without recognizing me, and that's good. ~ Hugo Weaving

OBAMA'S FRUSTRATION WITH HIS critics boiled over during a lengthy trip to Asia in the spring of 2014. In the region, the trip was seen as another carefully designed U.S. effort to counter China. We'd go to Japan, to bring them into the Trans-Pacific Partnership (TPP) - weaving together twelve Asia Pacific economies into one framework of trade rules, environmental protections, and labor rights. We'd go to South Korea and discuss ways to increase pressure on North Korea. We'd go to Malaysia, something of a swing state in Southeast Asia, which we were bringing closer through TPP. And we'd end in the Philippines, a U.S. ally that was mired in territorial disputes with China over maritime boundaries in the South China Sea. ~ Ben Rhodes

In these evenings he sat by our beds weaving folktales like vivid little scarves. ~ Naomi Shihab Nye

We sometimes make spiderwebs of smoke and saliva, fragile though-packets
Leave thinking to the one who gave intelligence
Stop weaving and watch how the pattern improve ~ Coleman Barks

I still, by and large, make low-budget Australian films. ~ Hugo Weaving

A mortal had woven it, a man who, having caught sight of the Seelie queen, had spent the remainder of his short life weaving depictions of her. He had died of starvation, raw, red fingers staining the final tapestry. ~ Holly Black

The moon is at her crystal window / Spinning and weaving ... ~ Hilda Conkling

And so she comes to dream herself the tree, The wind possessing her, weaving her young veins, Holding her to the sky and its quick blue, Drowning the fever of her hands in sunlight. She has no memory, nor fear, nor hope Beyond the grass and shadows at her feet. ~ Hart Crane

For that is what a child should be, and seldom is, the product of man and woman, of opposing natures, unified, however temporarily, by the amazing, circling, weaving dance of love and lust and God's involvement in it. ~ Fay Weldon

Consistency: It's the jewel worth wearing; It's the anchor worth weighing; It's the thread worth weaving; It's a battle worth winning. ~ Charles R. Swindoll

I spoke of disintegrating, dissolving into your surroundings. About atoms coming undone from each other, and being freed from yourself.

She was free.

She was free to float upward. There was nothing to stop her. She was floating up through the roof of the car, through the atmosphere, through the stratosphere, into the stars. Into outer space. Her atoms were intermingling with stardust. She was floating up here because this was where she belonged. Her atoms were weaving like thread into the fabric of the universe. Together, they formed a tapestry - a great, infinite tapestry - of stars and nebulae, of death and darkness, of life and creation. Swirling together. Endless.

She was the universe.

And the universe accepted her. ~ Preston Norton

We are talking about an awesome power. It is the power to weave illusions that appear real as long as they last. That is the very core of the Fed's power. Of course not everyone is instinctively against this illusion-weaving power, and many even welcome it. Tragically, the innocent who understand little about the complexity of the monetary system suffer the most, while those who are in the know reap great profit whether the market is going up or down. ~ Ron Paul

In Silence there is eloquence. Stop weaving and see how the pattern improves. ~ Rumi

Lazy Lob and crazy Cob
are weaving webs to wind me.
I am far more sweet than other meat,
but still they cannot find me!
Here am I, naughty little fly;
you are fat and lazy.
You cannot trap me, though you try,
in your cobwebs crazy. ~ J.R.R. Tolkien

You never know!" Neith snapped. "The point is, I'll survive the apocalypse. I can live off the land!" She jabbed a finger at me. "Did you know the palm tree has six different edible parts?"
"Um - "
"And I'll never be bored," Neith continued, "since I'm also the goddess of weaving. I have enough twine for a millennium of macramé!"
I had no reply, as I wasn't sure what macramé was. ~ Rick Riordan

So yes I know how angry, or naive, or self-destructive, or messed up, or even deluded I sound weaving my way through these life stories at times. But beautiful things. Graceful things. Hopeful things can sometimes appear in dark places. Besides, I'm trying to tell you the truth of a woman like me. ~ Lidia Yuknavitch

If you had told me when I was starting out that I would be coming down to Nashville, kind of weaving in and out of the country scene, I never would've thought that in a million years. ~ Kid Rock

Anne sewed and planned little winter wardrobes ... "Nan must have a red dress, since she is so set on it" ... and sometimes thought of Hannah, weaving her little coat every year for the small Samuel. Mothers were the same all through the centuries ... a great sisterhood of love and service ... the remembered and the unremembered alike. ~ L.M. Montgomery

A plan of life?
... Yet you would smile at an architect who, having a noble structure to build, should begin to work on it in a haphazard way, putting in a brick here and a stone there, weaving in straws and sticks if they come to hand, and when asked on what work he was engaged and what manner of building he intended to erect, should reply he had no plan but thought something would come of it. ~ Elizabeth Payson Prentiss

The important thing for the remembering author is not what he experienced, but the weaving of his memory, the Penelope work of recollection. Or should one call it, rather, the Penelope work of forgetting? ... And is not his work of spontaneous recollection, in which remembrance is the woof and forgetting the warp, a counterpart to Penelope's work rather than its likeness? For here the day unravels what the night has woven. When we awake each morning, we hold in our hands, usually weakly and loosely, but a few fringes of the tapestry of a lived life, as loomed for us by forgetting. However, with our purposeful activity and, even more, our purposive remembering each day unravels the web and the ornaments of forgetting. ~ Walter Benjamin

...weaving his verbal wreaths, in prose and verse, of marvellous poison ivy. ~ Gore Vidal

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

There's nothing like being on a massive-budget film where you don't know anything, and there's a million people, and no one's communicating. ~ Hugo Weaving

When I should have been producing obscure volumes of verse entitled the Triumph of Humpty Dumpty or the Nose with the Luminous Dong! Or at best, like Clare, "weaving fearful vision" ... A frustrated poet in every man. Though it is perhaps a good idea under the circumstances to pretend at least to be proceeding with one's great work on "Secret Knowledge," then one can always say when it never comes out that the title explains the deficiency. ~ Malcolm Lowry

I read with keen interest the words of a bumper sticker readily visible on the highly polished chrome bumper of a car which was weaving in and out of the traffic stream. The words were these: "Honk if you love Jesus." No one honked. Perhaps each was disturbed by the thoughtless and rude actions of the offending driver. Then, again, would honking be an appropriate manner in which to show one's love for the Son of God, the Savior of the world, the Redeemer of all mankind? Such was not the pattern provided by Jesus of Nazareth. ~ Thomas S. Monson

Being in the woods at night is a beautiful thing. ~ Hugo Weaving

In Old Europe and Ancient Crete, women were respected for their roles in the discovery of agriculture and for inventing the arts of weaving and pottery making. ~ Carol P. Christ

She drove like fucking Danica Patrick. Jesus. He'd actually been nervous, speeding over winding mountain roads, weaving around slower traffic--which was everyone. He'd been damn glad to see the hotel. ~ Susan Fanetti

When you're battling against the minds of the studios and the money that can go into promoting larger budget films, it's very hard for a very small-budget Australian film to get a look in. You can get critically acclaimed and go to various film festivals around the world, but that doesn't necessarily mean the majority of people are going to hear about it. ~ Hugo Weaving

If Spence had really wanted to bed Miss Nordstrum, he would have said how she'd been in his mind since the moment he arrived in Reederville. He'd have added that her visits to Amanda after the baby's birth had given him hope that she might have come in part to see him.
And he would have ended by assuring her that when he agreed to go riding with her today it hadn't been with the intention of kissing her, but
her beauty had stolen his senses away and he couldn't resist her
charms. He wouldn't have fucked her that afternoon, but sometime within a month, he could've seduced her into bed.
Spence was a master at weaving a spell of words to charm a woman
into doing what he wanted. Hadn't he proven that with Amanda? Amanda, who wouldn't leave his head, day or night.
Amanda, the most colossal mistake of his life. ~ Bonnie Dee

The article was written in scraps of time, between snatched moments of sleep. This can't be normal, she thought, exhilarated, typing away in her slip at three in the morning. She'd been brought up to believe in regular work that took place in nice, clean offices, between fixed hours. Yet here she was, in a hotel room that could be anywhere, weaving a story into being and feeling like if she stopped for a second to breathe, the whole thing would fall apart. As long as she got the next sentence out, and the one after that, she'd be all right. ~ Jeremy Tiang

Sometimes it is very dark. We cannot understand what we are doing. We do not see the web we are weaving. We are not able to discover any beauty, any possible good in our experience. Yet if we are faithful and fail not and faint not, we shall someday know that the most exquisite work of all our life was done in those days when it was so dark. ~ J.R. Miller

I took a step toward him, planning to knock him out of his chair, then pour milk on him for good measure.

Selene put a hand on my shoulder. "Don't bother."

She was right, and I knew it. The Will wouldn't let me hit him. I contemplated using Mr. Ankil's snatch-and-smack trick, but I hadn't practiced it yet, and Lance wasn't carrying his wand, just the stupid joker playing card he liked to fiddle with whenever he was bored, weaving it in between his fingers like he was some kind of card shark.

I'd once asked Selene what the deal was with the card, and she explained that Lance was obsessed with the Joker from Batman. In an ordinary high school, he would've been ridiculed for this behavior, but not at Arkwell. Most magickind teenagers were fanatics about ordinary pop culture. Almost everybody was a Comic-Con–attending, play-dress-up fan boy. And he had the nerve to make fun of me. Go figure. ~ Mindee Arnett

We must try to remember everything, every movement, every stretch, every convulsion that made us how we move as we readily grow in our outer body that encompasses the planets, the suns and the moons in every other body that we touch, in every other mouth that we kissed, in every other language that we try to comprehend; for they are not the outside of a stranger, nor are they just images of our psyche, but the very being of ourselves, the dimensional levels of our very existence weaving colours in the tapestry of creation, yet the very non-existence of the template is proof of consciousness, of ascension, of Life. ~ AainaA-Ridtz

Moment by moment throughout our lifetime, our brains hum with the work of making meaning: weaving together many thousands of threads of information into all manner of thoughts, feelings, memories, and ideas. ~ Daniel Tammet

After having stopped the lower activities of the mind, it must be made receptive; and, instead of weaving all kinds of empty and idle thoughts, the mind should receive intuitions from above. ~ Sri Aurobindo

Film has a tendency to be limiting in some way and it shouldn't be. It's a form that can be explored and changed. ~ Hugo Weaving

Of course the play as I wrote it amounted to nothing; but in weaving the plot through successive scenes, and in writing out some of the dialogues, I enjoyed the full bliss of literary creation. Never to have tasted this delight is never to have known one of the greatest joys of life. ~ Carl Schurz

Why not just tell my parents the boarding school thing wasn't working out, and go home? That offer had been on the table from the beginning, after all. I could live at home forever, growing white-haired and teaching piano and taking in stray cats until the neighborhood children started weaving tales of my tragic past and my story was adapted for Lifetime Television. ~ Elizabeth Cody Kimmel

Poetry is a fresh morning spider-web telling a story of moonlit hours of weaving and waiting during a night. ~ Carl Sandburg

I remembered you, when I kissed your man face, slowly, slowly kissed it, and when the time came to kiss your eyes - I remembered that then I had tasted the salt in my mouth, and that the salt of tears in your eyes was my love for you. But, what bound me most of all in a fright of love, had been, in the depth of the depths of the salt, your saltless and innocent and childish substance: with my kiss your deepest insipid life was given to me, and kissing your face was the saltless and busy patient work of love, it was woman weaving a man, just as you had woven me, neutral crafting of life. ~ Clarice Lispector

Unchopping a Tree.

Start with the leaves, the small twigs, and the nests that have been shaken, ripped, or broken off by the fall; these must be gathered and attached once again to their respective places. It is not arduous work, unless major limbs have been smashed or mutilated. If the fall was carefully and correctly planned, the chances of anything of the kind happening will have been reduced. Again, much depends upon the size, age, shape, and species of the tree. Still, you will be lucky if you can get through this stages without having to use machinery. Even in the best of circumstances it is a labor that will make you wish often that you had won the favor of the universe of ants, the empire of mice, or at least a local tribe of squirrels, and could enlist their labors and their talents. But no, they leave you to it. They have learned, with time. This is men's work.

It goes without saying that if the tree was hollow in whole or in part, and contained old nests of bird or mammal or insect, or hoards of nuts or such structures as wasps or bees build for their survival, the contents will have to repaired where necessary, and reassembled, insofar as possible, in their original order, including the shells of nuts already opened. With spider's webs you must simply do the best you can. We do not have the spider's weaving equipment, nor any substitute for the leaf's living bond with its point of attachment and nourishment. It is even harder to simulate the ~ W.S. Merwin

I have been occupied with this story, during many working hours of two years. I must have been very ill employed, if I could not leave its merits and demerits as a whole, to express themselves on its being read as a whole. But, as it is not unreasonable to suppose that I may have held its threads with a more continuous attention than anyone else can have given them during its desultory publication, it is not unreasonable to ask that the weaving may be looked at in its completed state, and with the pattern finished. ~ Charles Dickens

A good book is like a stream, with which we can flow slowly, playfully, it lets us savor the joy of weaving the magic of lovely thoughts, revealing the secrets of life with beautiful words. ~ Balroop Singh

I know girls who pine for it. They like to play dress-up and pretend being Vor ladies of old, rescued from menace by romantic Vor youths. For some reason they never play 'dying in childbirth', or 'vomiting your guts out from the red dysentery', or 'weaving till you go blind and crippled from arthritis and dye poisoning', or 'infanticide'. Well, they do die romantically of disease sometimes, but somehow it's always an illness that makes you interestingly pale and everyone sorry and doesn't involve losing bowel control. ~ Lois McMaster Bujold

Luddites were those frenzied traditionalists of the early 19th century who toured [England] wrecking new weaving machines on the theory that if they were destroyed ... old jobs and old ways of life could be preserved ... At certain times in his life each man is tempted to become a Luddite, for there is always something he would like to go back to. But to be against all change-against change in the abstract-is folly. ~ James A. Michener

And still the Weaver plies his loom,
whose warp and woof is wretched Man
Weaving th' unpattern'd dark design,
so dark we doubt it owns a plan ~ Richard Francis Burton