Quotes About Silk

I wear silk — the cover to uncover — because silk is what I want you to think of. But I dislike the cloth. It is too stern

For me, growing up in Detroit, scarves meant cold weather. But I remember working in a store, and we had some silk scarves - like, wide scarves with fringe - and because I had seen the English rockers wearing skinny silk scarves, I took the scarves, cut and sewed them, and made them long - almost like a tie.

A black shadow dropped down into the circle. It was Bagheera the Black Panther, inky black all over, but with the panther markings showing up in certain lights like the pattern of watered silk. Everybody knew Bagheera, and nobody cared to cross his path; for he was as cunning as Tabaqui, as bold as the wild buffalo, and as reckless as the wounded elephant. But he had a voice as soft as wild honey dripping from a tree, and a skin softer than down.

Such things for example as the grasp of a child's hand in your own, the flavor of an apple, the embrace of friend or lover, the silk of a girl's thigh, the sunlight on rock and leaves, the feel of music, the bark of a tree, the abrasion of granite and sand, the plunge of clear water into a pool, the face of the wind—what else is there? What else do we need?

His voice is low and soft, a piece of silk you might keep in a drawer and pull out only on rare occasions, just to feel it between your fingers.

A kestrel can and does hover in the dead calm of summer days, when there is not the faintest breath of wind. He will, and does, hover in the still, soft atmosphere of early autumn, when the gossamer falls in showers, coming straight down as if it were raining silk.

I took her to bed with silk and song 'Lay still, my love, I won't be long, I must prepare my body for passion.' 'O, your body you give, but all else you ration...

The scarf, a gift from Willa—purchased lovingly, with money from her savings account, from a Paris boutique—had been one of Kate's most prized possessions. Its thick, creamy silk had felt so soft around her neck, the fringe so jaunty and brave.

Auntie had a tongue like hungry scissors eating silk cloth.

Pero era un sueño. Estábamos envueltos en algodón, en hilos de seda, en telas de araña, en musgo, en niebla, en el mar, en el sabor de una distancia que ha de aniquilarse-

And this all causes her to wonder at the disparity between the silk dresses and the natural postures of the body, and to think: How far, HOW FAR, we are willing to go to pretend we are not of the body at all.

This rest and well-being were only a momentary difference in the strange lining or variable silk between life and void.

Silk--that's what I want rubbing against me. I feel so woolen all the time.

Women in London are like the rich silks; they are out of fashion a great while before they wear out.

In their dreams they touch, they intertwine, it's more like a collision, and that is the end of flying. They fall to earth, fouled parachutists, botched and cindery angels, love streaming out behind them like torn silk. Enemy groundfire comes up to meet them.

With time and patience, the mulberry leaf becomes satin.

I'm Gentleman Death in silk and lace, come to put out the candles. The canker in the heart of the rose.

Think of it, Armand," I pressed carefully. "Why should Death lurk in the shadows? Why should Death wait at the gate? There is no bedchamber, no ballroom that I cannot enter. Death in the glow of the hearth, Death on tiptoe in the corridor, that is what I am. Speak to me of the Dark Gifts—I use them. I'm Gentleman Death in silk and lace, come to put out the candles. The canker in the heart of the rose.

Red had been his badge of pride, red velvet, a flowing cape, magnificently embroidered doublet, and beneath it a tunic of gold silk tissue, so very popular in thos times.

He was sitting on her thighs, and his silk breeches were cool against her bare skin. His hands slid up her body, her buttocks, up the line of her back, and she arched in pleasure, like a cat, unable to help herself. You like that, do you? he murmured. I thought you might. You're a sensual creature, dear heart, no matter how you try to fight it. You were made for this.

The winter light, tinted by the bright colors in the street, plays on the go-board. All these festivities cut me off from the rest of the world. My loneliness is like a bolt of crimson silk stowed in the bottom of a wooden chest.

Patience to the spider

Sorry, Carlos. What have you got? (Terri) Plenty of fine wine and silk sheets with a high threat count. (Carlos)

skeins of mist like translucent silk, bending and unbending in the headlight tunnels...