Quotes About Silk

Ah, the Springtime, when we think of all the lays That dreamy lovers send to dreamy mays, Of the fond hearts within a billet bound, Of all the soft silk paper that pens wound, The messages of love that mortals write Filled with intoxication of delight… — The Genesis of Butterflies

Warmth. Well-being. And a taste not like copper, but like something rich and strange. Later, she'd always grope for ways to describe it, but she could only think of things like: well a little bit like the way vanilla bean smells, and a little bit like the way silk feels, and a little bit like the way a waterfall looks.

Her voice would die before she ran out of rage. She could scream a hole in her throat and come unraveled, fall to pieces like moth-chewed silk, and still, from the leftover shreds of her, the little pile of tatters, would pour forth this unending scream.

In 1666, an Act designed to promote the wool industry came into force, insisting that everyone should be buried in a woollen shroud. Other fibres, such as silk or linen, were banned.

I see you go bare-shod. This is most likely extremely sensible. Shoes are no end of trouble for girls. . . . How many have danced to death in slippers of silk and glass and fur and wood? Too many to count—the graveyards, they are so full these days. You are very wise to let your soles become grubby with mud, to let them grow their own slippers of moss and clay and calluses. This is far preferable to shoes which may become wicked at any moment.

I only sweat when I'm nervous, and when I'm nervous no antiperspirant will protect me, so I avoid wearing light colors when I have to teach or perform in some way. But Pryor dares to wear silk, which is so unbreathable it exposes his sweat like ink on blotting paper.

Lounging indolently in a black silk robe which was loosely tied at the front and which appeared to conceal nothing more than bare skin...she made a conscious effort not to stare at the bare legs with their sprinkling of dark hair...was he even wearing underwear? she thought

From riding nearly fifty miles in one day on a horse, I learned that the fifteen feet of silk tied tightly around the midriff actually kept the organs in place and prevented nausea.

Cinderella arrived.  She was dressed in a clinging gown woven of silk stolen from unsuspecting silk-worms.  Her hair was festooned with pearls plundered from hard-working, defenseless oysters.  And on her feet, dangerous though it may seem, she wore slippers made of finely cut crystal.

Personally, I wear a lot of my mother-in-law's chiffons and my mother's silk. But when I buy saris for myself, then they have to be understated.

And you prate of the wealth of nations, as if it were bought and sold, The wealth of nations is men, not silk and cotton and gold.

God, for example, appealed to me as a beardless man wearing a quilted silk cap; holiness was something burning, forbidding, something connected with fire while a day had the form of an oblong box.

Legendary King Midas never knew the feel of silk or a human hand after everything he touched turned to gold. Humans are stuck in a similar Midas-like predicament: we can't directly experience the true texture of reality because everything we touch turns to matter.

And Matt's passion fueled Breanne's emotional recovery. Giddily soaking up her groom's repeated, ardent kisses, the usually restrained, ultra-cool sophisticate was feeling no pain, laughing and animated and uncaring that her exquisite Italian silk creation had been stained like a macchiato. ...she wore the espresso like a badge of honor-- even insisted more photos be taken with the damaged tray and the spattered gown.

He stood dressed in voluminous robes of thrice-burned silk (the blackest, most portentous; the silk of all melancholias) and studied the lightless waters of the Izabella as the barge sped on.

There just aren't enough o's in the word smooth for me, are there?

The blond stuffs her hairbrush, which is now spun with gold and black silk (a miniature angel's nest) back into her backpack next to her anthology of English literature. The pages are so thin, they're like dead girls' dreams, translucent skin. On them it seems that everything that has ever been thought has been written.

little sleek crisp flaxen wig, setting very close to his head: which wig, it is to be presumed, was made of hair, but which looked far more as though it were spun from filaments of silk or glass. His linen, though not of a fineness in accordance with his stockings, was as white as the tops of the waves that broke upon the neighbouring beach, or the specks of sail that glinted

Prologue SEXY BEAST One LIKE THE LUXURY CO-OPS and five-star French eateries located in Manhattan's Silk

Portofino in the '60s was magic. Women in bright silk, each with a gardenia in their hand. The bottle started then, in my mind.

Natasha, in her lilac silk dress trimmed with black lace walked, as women can walk, with the more repose and stateliness the greater the pain and shame in her soul.

When there is not a breath of wind, the waters sometimes shudder as if from inside and take on the finish of washed silk.

The old Arab epigram drifted into his mind, that God invented silk so that women could be naked in clothes

The sound of her silk skirt has stopped.On the marble pavement dust grows.Her empty room is cold and still.Fallen leaves are piled against the doors.Longing for that lovely ladyHow can I bring my aching heart to rest?