Quotes About Weaver

Seenu rang the gong, and the eyes shut themselves in silence, and the brahmin heart and the weaver heart and pariah heart seemed to beat the one beat of Siva dancing

God the Grand Weaver seeks those with tender hearts so that he can put his imprint on them. Your hurts and your disappointments are part of that design, to shape your heart and the way you feel about reality. The hurts you live through will always shape you. There is no other way.

En síntesis, aceptar y celebrar el hilo de nuestra propia personalidad es el primer paso para comprender el diseño del gran Tejedor en nuestra vida. No eres un número. Él te conoce por tu nombre. Cada etapa del proceso tal vez no parezca muy atractiva, pero cada detalle saldrá a relucir y será hermoso a su manera.

is it not possible that the Grand Weaver has a design in mind for you, a design that will adorn you as he

Mind is the master weaver, both of the inner garment of character and the outer garment of circumstance.

God, the Master Weaver. He stretches the yarn and intertwines the colors, the ragged twine with the velvet strings, the pains with the pleasures. Nothing escapes his reach.

I think of myself as a songwriter, a weaver of story and imagination in a way that a novelist might write a book.

I think, writing-wise, I am probably more of a quilter than a weaver because I just get a little scrap here and a little scrap there and sew them together.

I have come to believe that we do not walk alone in this life. There are others, fellow sojourners, whose journeys are interwoven with ours in seemingly random patterns, yet, in the end, have been carefully placed to reveal a remarkable tapestry. I believe God is the weaver at that loom.

An ancient metaphor: thought is a thread, and the raconteur is a spinner of yarns - but the true storyteller, the poet, is a weaver.

An ancient metaphor: thought is a thread, and the raconteur is a spinner of yarns - but the true storyteller, the poet, is a weaver. The scribes made this old and audible abstraction into a new and visible fact. After long practice, their work took on such an even, flexible texture that they called the written page a textus, which means cloth.

Years ago on the set of Gunsmoke I read the book The Holy Science. Since then I have not eaten meat.

You have learned well,* Dragon said. *But heed me, little one. You must guard the webs you weave that make dreams into flesh. Many beings will cherish those webs because they are spun out of magic that lives in the heart. But there will be others who will want to destroy that heart-magic before it can touch the world. Guard the webs . . . Weaver of Dreams.* Dragon's breath came out in a long sigh . . . and then there was silence.

I am Tersa the Weaver, Tersa the Liar, Tersa the Fool.

He's a spider. A web-weaver, with lines stringing out in all directions. He sits at the centre and interprets each tug.

Then we must say farewell, answered the weaver-woman. But mind you, she added, in her usual sharp tone, if life is a loom, the pattern you weave is not so easily unraveled.

The speech she made was done in the back, alone, like little shoes cobbled by an elf: spider is to web as weaver is to blank. That one was hers. She was proud of that. Also, blank is to heartache as forest is to bench.

The speech she made was done in the back, alone, like little shoes cobbled by an elf: spider is to web as weaver is to blank. That one was hers. She was proud of that. Also, blank is to heartache as forest is to bench. But

There are tides in the affairs of men, tides of restlessness and awareness; there are thin threads of thought that reach out across the distance and, like the threads of a weaver, are drawn together tight.

Hatter, my love, we never got a chance to say good-bye. --Weaver

Love is a cunning weaver of fantasies and fables.

Life is a tapestry: We are the warp; angels, the weft; God, the weaver. Only the Weaver sees the whole design.

Finally Pix-Kyle Weaver shrugged and said, "Pm kinda interested in Vietnam.

God, the Master Weaver. He stretches the yarn and intertwines the colors, the ragged twine with the velvet strings, the pains with the pleasures. Nothing escapes his reach. Every king, despot, weather pattern, and molecule are at his command. He passes the shuttle back and forth across the generations, and as he does, a design emerges. Satan weaves; God reweaves.