Quotes About Shears

In the throat, the male is as vulnerable as the female. Once the sharp points of the shears pierce his skin, puncture the artery, there will be no turning back for either of them.

And sing to those that hold the vital shears; And turn the adamantine spindle round, On which the fate of gods and men is wound.

Men can't be trusted with pruning shears any more than they can be trusted with the grocery money in a delicatessen . . . They are like boys with new pocket knives who will not stop whittling.

said, "We know that you're magic." Miss Alodie's blue eyes danced as she tucked her garden shears into one of the many pockets of her fisherman's vest. "Well, now, what gave me away? Was it my glittering wand or my blue wizard's hat with the silver stars on it?" Jesse didn't so much as crack a smile. "It was this fence, right here," he said sternly.

Just a little off the top!- A. Boleyn

Bessus's moment came too late, for the Fates had already cut the empire's thread with their shears.

Maintenance is the tax I pay on this life, I think. And that is why I want to do it by hand, with heavy shears.

But we do not choose our deaths. The Norns do that at the foot of Yggdrasil and I imagined one of those three Fates holding the shears above my thread. She was ready to cut, and all that mattered now was to keep tight hold of my sword so that the winged women would take me to Valhalla's feasting-hall.

So Urðr, Verðandi and Skuld would decide our fate. They are not kindly women, indeed they are monstrous and malevolent hags, and Skuld's shears are sharp. When those blades cut, they cause tears that feed the well of Urðr that lies beside the world tree, and the well gives the water that keeps Yggdrasil alive, and if Yggdrasil dies, then the world dies, and so the well must be kept filled, and for that there must be tears. We cry so that the world can live.

Peace and war kiss each other at their hours of preparation—sickles, scythes, shears, and pruning-hooks, ranking with swords, bayonets, and lances, in their common necessity for point and edge.

Eustacia Vye was the raw material of a divinity. On Olympus she would have done well with a little preparation. She had the passions and instincts which make a model goddess, that is, those which make not quite a model woman. Had it been possible for the earth and mankind to be entirely in her grasp for a while, had she handled the distaff, the spindle, and the shears at her own free will, few in the world would have noticed the change in government. . . .

The door doesn't have a knob, just a latch held closed by a chain, another victim of Dede's shears.

The shears found his throat this time. He fell down on top of them and was silent. Something dark like mucilage glistened where he lay. She had jumped back - not in remorse, but to keep the bottom of her skirt clear of his blood. ("I'm Dangerous Tonight")

Schneid die Gebetshand aud der Luft mit der Augen- schere kapp ihre Finger mit deinem Kuß: Gefaltetes geht jetzt atemberaubend vor sich. // Cut the payer-hand from the air with the eye- shears, lop its fingers off with your kiss: Now a folding takes place that takes your breath away -Last Poems, page 51