Quotes About Hands

Only with the tools of production in their own hands could the workers ever hope to control their own lives and receive the fruits of their labor.

Enrich my heart, mouth, hands in me, With faith, with hope, with charity, That I may run, rise, rest with Thee.

I commend you on all you've done for PETA, wrestling the one-eyed trouser snake with your bare hands, gently cuddling it in your arms, and nurturing it back to health.

Taxes for people with too much damned time on their hands.

...and yes that was meant to be interpreted in a sarcastic bubblegum tone complete with clapping and jazz hands.

With his eyes and those hands there won't be a woman safe in all the world when he starts hunting after the ladies.' 'Courting, dear,' my father corrected gently. 'Semantics,' she shrugged.

A man who works with his hands is a laborer; a man who works with his hands and his brain is a craftsman; but a man who works with his hands and his brain and his heart is an artist.

Only truthful hands write true poems. I cannot see any basic difference between a handshake and a poem.

I believe in the hands that work, in the brains that think, and in the hearts that love...I believe in sunshine, fresh air, friendship, calm sleep, beautiful thoughts.

If the blue morning held in the glass of the window, if my fingers, my palms. If my thighs. If your hands, if my thighs. If the seeds, among all the lost gold oft the grass. If your hands on my thighs, if your tongue. If the leaves. If the singing fell upward. If grief. For a moment if singing and grief. If the blue of the body fell upward, out of our hands. If the morning held it like leaves.

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals the power of your intense fragility:whose texture compels me with the colour of its countries, rendering death and forever with each breathing (i do not know what it is about you that closes and opens;only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses) nobody,not even the rain, has such small hands -excerpt of #35 from 100 Selected Poems

Only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses. Nobody, not even the rain has such small hands.

O still miraculous May!O shining girl of time untarnished!O small intimate gently primeval hands,frivolous feet divine!O singular and breathless pearl! O indefinable frail ultimate pose! O visible beatitude sweet sweet intolerable!silence immaculate of god's evasive audible great rose!

Hands that we are looking to cold-call will include high equity hands that play well versus the range of hands our opponent chooses to open. For example, these hands may include hands such as 6-6 — T-T, 7-8s — K-Qs, A-Ts+, A-Qo. Depending on stack depths we may choose to include small pocket pairs in our range in order to set-mine.

Maidens excellent in beauty, Riding their steeds in shining armor, Solemn and deep in thought, With their white hands beckoning. -Valkyries

In the long moment before the curtain fell, he had time to feel the whole tragedy of her life. It was as though her beauty, thus detached from all that cheapened and vulgarized it, had held out suppliant hands to him from the world in which he and she had once met for a moment, and where he felt an over-mastering longing to be with her again.

Miss Corby's role was jocularity. She always entered the conversation with a handspring.

Immersion in no way affected Roosevelt's cheerful volubility. I never saw a man who talked so much, Rondon marveled. I used to love to watch him think...for he always gesticulated. He would be alone, not saying a word, yet his hands would be moving, and he would be waving his arms and nodding his head with the greatest determination, as though arguing with somebody else.

He sat looking down at his hands--his fine strong unscarred hands. Suddenly and unreasonably he thought of another pair of hands--his mother's--with the knuckles enlarged, the skin broken--expressive--her life written on them. Scars. She had them.

Rora had heard prayers before, he was well aware that Isus Krist featured in them, he knew the sound well, but knew none by heart. Still, he fell down on his knees, put his hands together, bowed his head— an embodiment of piety— and prayed: Pliva patka preko Save Isus Krist Nosi pismo navrh glave Isus Krist U tom pismu pise Ne volim te vise.

We commend unto Thy hands of mercy, most merciful Father, the souls of these our brothers departed, and we commit their bodies to the deep.

For the basic question is: of what are we witnesses? What have we seen and touched with our hands? Of what have we partaken and been made communicants? Where do we call men? What can we offer them?

We are the beat of nature's heart, the earth is our heaven and the sun our breath, through our heart journey's the eternity unfolds and encircles us with her gentle hands, there is no end or return, no answer, just one spark flickers.

Memory entering the head like a knife. A girl's hands slicing the heart in two.