Quotes About Hand

I grew up in Colorado and spent my summers in Montana as a ranch hand.

No experience has been too unimportant, and the smallest event unfolds like a fate, and fate itself is like a wonderful, wide fabric in which every thread is guided by an infinitely tender hand and laid alongside another thread and is held and supported by a hundred others

and fate itself is like a wonderful, wide web in which each thread is guided by an infinitely tender hand and laid alongside another and held and borne up by a hundred others.

How talented was death. How many expressions and manipulations of hand, face, body, no two alike. They stood like the naked pipes of a vast derelict calliope, their mouths cut into frantic vents. And now the great hand of mania descended upon one hundred-throated, unending scream.

Los buenos escultores tocan la vida a menudo. Los mediocres sólo pasan apresuradamente la mano por encima de ella. Los malos violan y la dejan por inútil.

Now and then a small red glow would move abruptly, and expanding light up the fingers of a languid hand, part of a face in profound repose, or flash a crimson gleam into a pair of pensive eyes overshadowed by a fragment of an unruffled forehead: and with the very first word uttered Marlow's body, extended at rest in the seat, would become very still, as though his spirit had winged its way back into the lapse of time and were speaking through his lips from the past.

Love and regret go hand in hand in this world of changes swifter than the shifting of the clouds reflected in the mirror of the sea.

The scattered bloodstains across the front of the dress were light as freckles, but the darker stains on the back, a half dozen stains as long as six or seven inches, had turned a sour yellowish shade, unmistakable. Like the stained crotches of certain of her panties which Marianne scrubbed, scrubbed by hand to rid them of traces of menstrual blood before drying them in her closet and dropping them into the laundry chute.

bed, the Glock near his right hand, safety off.

And it's possible you may get different results depending on which hand you doodle with," Kounios says. "Using the left hand may stimulate the brain's right hemisphere.

But there was something else that I discovered in Madrid. It had more to do with the spirit than it did with knowledge and yet it was something I could hope to hand on. A change in method or technique accounts for many things in human history.

Taxi, monsieur?" "No, thank you." Keller slipped a five-euro note into the valet's outstretched hand and set out along the street.

Her right hand held a bottle of Pepsi that she'd clogged with peanuts and called a late lunch.

The friendship between my hand and this stone enacts an ancient and irrefutable eros, the kindredness of matter with itself.

The world can only be grasped by action, not by contemplation. The hand is more important than the eye. . . . The hand is the cutting edge of the mind. —J. Bronowski

enough Freudian psychoanalysis to know that we never really overcome the damage they do to us when we are small. The baggage we take with us to the grave is the same baggage our parents hand us just after we are born. This was the narrative

Several minutes passed. Several more. Nothing but silence and darkness. "I think they're gone," Brenda whispered. She flicked on her torch. "Hello, noses!" a hideous voice yelled from the room. Then a bloody hand reached through the doorway and grabbed Thomas by the shirt.

The Keeper spotted them and approached at a limping run. Thomas noticed he'd let go of Teresa's hand without thinking about it.

More firm and sure the hand of courage strikes, when it obeys the watchful eye of caution.

His face had grown so poisonous to her that now she wouldn't even touch the photograph except to pick it up by the edges. The despair of her house was the work of his hand. He deserved to die. Throwing the snake on his grandmother had given her no relief. It was him she wanted.

As I lay on my side, staring at a pool of white moonlight on the wooden floor, a gust of wind blew the curtains out, long and pale as ghosts. As though an invisible hand were leafing through them, the

Good God, here am I with stockings in either hand, panting towards restitution. I merely require you to keep my soul out of the general conversation.' 'And your brother's soul?' said James Stewart. He was drawling again. 'I understood,' said Lymond, 'that you had that in hand.

The sight of the food made Jerott want to vomit. He said cheerfully, 'Well, well. Thank God you're a dab hand at chess.' 'If you're going to be bright,' said Lymond, with a soft and frightening venom, 'I'll break your sweet little neck.

Why doesn't God smite this dictator dead?' is a question a little remote from us, says one of the characters in The Man Born to Be King. Why, madam, did he not strike you dumb and imbecile before you uttered that baseless and unkind slander the day before yesterday? Or me, before I behaved with such cruel lack of consideration to that well-meaning friend? And why, sir, did he not cause your hand to rot off at the wrist before you signed your name to that dirty little bit of financial trickery?