Quotes About Silk

This caterpillar rests on a pad of its own silk all day, with a leaf curled around it like a blanket. It comes out at night to eat. It grows about as long as your middle finger. Over winter, this caterpillar can be found in its pupa, among the litter on the ground, or on one of the trees it feeds on. It will look like an orange-brown piece of bark, with a silk thread holding it around the middle.

Mother, of course, takes a lot of exercise, walks and so on. And every morning she puts on a pair of black silk drawers and a sweater and makes indelicate gestures on the lawn. That's called Building the Body Beautiful. She's mad about it.

Down the way a silk design This face is mine Tis I, Katrina! Katrina, I.

quand il parle, ses mots s'apparentent à des perles enfilées sur un fil de soie ... quand il parle, il est comme le lustre répandu par un rubis ... quand il parle, c'est comme des éclaboussures de cristal qui fendent le bleu ....

It is enough for beauty to touch our tedium for our heart to be torn like silk between the hands of life.

Es genügt, daß die Schönheit unseren Überdruß streift, damit unser Herz wie Seide zwischen den Händen des Lebens zerreißt.

The Chinese, taking off his air-helmet, uncoiled his pigtail with a certain emphasis, stripped off his heavy coverings, and revealed a sky-blue silk pyjama suit, embroidered with golden dragons.

At Cato's Irene Mayo waited in the booth McFee usually occupied. She wore a green felt beret, a string of pearls and a knitted green silk suit with white cuffs.

The young man is currently standing in the hallway, dripping on the handmade silk rug that the Emperor of the Indies presented to His Majesty's grandmother. He is insisting on speaking with His Majesty." "It's a very ugly rug," Mendanbar said. "That's why we put it in the entry hall.

Like Jean Genet, Robert was a terrible thief. Genet was caught and imprisoned for stealing rare volumes of Proust and rolls of silk from a shirt maker. Aesthetic thieves. I imagined his sense of horror and triumph as bits of Blake swirled into the sewers of New York City.

The tuba was a golden blur. The horn player seemed to be winking at me. And then there were the other partnered girls sailing by us in silk dresses, gardenias tucked like stars into their hair.