Quotes About Threads

Time was spinning numerous threads for its tapestry, some to be woven together, some to entangle or fray, others merely to perish and pass away.

Fear any and all of these things," Ra-Tenniel said. "The tearing of our threads from the Loom, the unsaying of our histories, the unraveling of the Weaver's design.

In private, with pencil on scratch paper, he labored over aphorisms that he later delivered in spontaneous-seeming lectures: Nature uses only the longest threads to weave her patterns, so each small piece of her fabric reveals the organization of the entire tapestry.

Nature uses only the longest threads to weave her patterns, so each small piece of her fabric reveals the organization of the entire tapestry.

What birds were they? (...) He listened to the cries: like the squeak of mice be- hind the wainscot : a shrill twofold note. But the notes were long and shrill and whirring, unlike the cry of vermin, falling a third or a fourth and trilled as the flying beaks clove the air. Their cry was shrill and clear and fine and falling like threads of silken light unwound from whirring spools.

I believe in a kind of literature which makes clear that, at a deeper level, below the surface, we are tied together through invisible but existing threads. A kind of literature which talks about a lively, ever-changing world of unity, of which we are a small, but not insignificant part.

The future is a hundred thousand threads, but the past is a fabric that can never be rewoven.

The future is a hundred thousand threads, but the past is a fabric that can never be rewoven. Maybe I could have been content. Maybe not.

BEYOND THE MIST, the darkness and shadow, he waits, reaching out through a veil of gossamer threads—'your future,' he whispers, 'your destiny'.

For sixty years tens of thousands of clandestine service officers have gathered only the barest threads of truly important intelligence—and that is the CIA's deepest secret.

Threads snap. You would lose your way in the labyrinth.

You can weave your life so long—only so long," Coren says to Sybel, "and then a thing in the world out of your control will tug at one vital thread and leave you patternless and subdued.

His mind was spinning endless threads of conjecture that snarled constantly around his ignorance.

I was thinking about how free of mobs recent centuries had been: to create a mob there must be public meetings, and public meetings in our time consisted of individuals communing via the All Thing or other datasphere channels; it is hard to create mob passion when people are separated by kilometers and light-years, connected only by comm lines and fatline threads.

The fabric of space/time is much like one of the elaborate Vatican tapestries, thinks Nemes, and she who begins pulling on loose threads does so at the peril of watching the whole tapestry ravel.

Bind me to your will, bind me with these threads of sorrow, and gather me out of the afternoon where I have torn my soul on twenty monstrous altars, offering all things but myself.

That is the gods' work, spinning threads of death through the lives of mortal men, an all to make a song for those to come.

If theater is ritual, then dance is too... It's as if the threads connecting us to the rest of the world were washed clean of preconceptions and fears. When you dance, you can enjoy the luxury of being you.

He saw that it was the gaps that were important, the spaces between the threads which made the pattern, and not the threads themselves.

I don't have ideas so much as there are things which constantly evolve... there are various threads or layers, if you like, which change.

I have a strong aversion to Twitter, and yet there is a social obligation that forces me to pop in and spy on celebrities now and then. I don't get Twitter. It's impossible to follow conversation threads, and it's too easy to spend hours and hours clicking on random names, and the next thing you know, you've become infatuated with Tweet photos from the Kardashians.

Love weaves itself from hundreds of threads.

Love weaves itself from hundreds of threads. Happenstances. I just happened to be one of them.

There was a pause, while I fought against this other, lesser kind of death that was creeping over me - this death called strangeness, this snapping of all the customary little threads of cause and effect that are our moorings at other times. Slowly they all drew back from me step by step, until I was left there alone, cut off. ("All At Once, No Alice")