Quotes About Hand

I sank into a c. and passed an agitated h. over the b.

The stoppered bottle does not care whose is the hand that removes its cork – all it wants is the chance to fizz:

Sometimes a piece of sun burned like a coin in my hand.

no te vayas al cielo, alcanza las manzanas, no las nubes, ésas déjalas ir por el cielo, irse hacia el pasado. Tú eres tu presente, tu manzana: tómala de tu árbol, levántala en tu mano, brilla como una estrella, tócala, híncale el diente y ándate silbando en el camino.

He realised what a horrible mistake, crime even, he had been guilty of in demanding such a barbaric thing as a girl's hand.

Man is simply playing by nature's rules,and art is man's attempt to imitate the beauty of the Creator's hand

the pale hand of an enormous albino with long white hair.

On the seat beside him, in between him and his father, Ryan's severed hand is resting on a bed of ice in an eight-quart Styrofoam cooler.

She put her hand out and I stare at it. She say, I would like to welcome you to the neighborhood. Her voice sound sharp to me. Clean at the end of each word like when you snap your fingers. After each snap, the sound end, aint nothing coming after it like when we talk. When we talk, its like you humming at the end of every word you say.

Amulets,39 and I know not what Preparations, to fortify the Body with them against the Plague; as if the Plague was not the Hand of God

She licked her lips and then wiped them on her hand, her dark lipstick staining her wrist like a suicide.

Whenever thy hand can reach it, tear out the foe's brain, for such an opportunity washes anger from the mind.

What happened to your hand? It got hit by a mirror. How'd that happen? I lost my temper at myself.

the shimmering movement of God's hand across time, drawing life toward the knowledge of him. I

The thing I hate most about the gods is the fact that they are seldom at hand when you need them most.

She put the Trust into her sister's hand. Magdalen took it from her mechanically. You! she said, looking at her sister with the remembrance of all that she had vainly ventured, of all that she had vainly suffered, at St. Crux—you have found it!

excuse my enthusiasm or rather madness, for I am really drunk with intellectual vision whenever I take a pencil or graver into my hand.

I will not cease from mental fight Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand.

Tyger! Tyger! Burning bright in the forests of the night...

Tyger, tyger, burning bright In the forest of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could Frame thy fearful symmetry? In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand dare seize the fire? And what shoulder and what art Could twist the sinews of thy heart? And, when thy heart began to beat, What dread hand and what dread feet? What the hammer? what the chain? In what furnace was thy brain? What the anvil? - The Tyger

Black wind, I have poured my heart out to you until I am sick of it- Now I run my hand over you feeling the play of your body - the quiver of it's strength-

The stranger's hand emerged, holding something that looked to Chia like a very large pair of chromeplated scissors, but then unfolded, with a series of small sharp clicks, and apparently of its own accord, into a kind of glittering, skeletal axe, its leading edge hawklike and lethal, the head behind it tapering like an icepick.

I recognised uneasily the hand of what I sometimes thought to be my personal nemesis, the spirit of farce.

Will you draw your sword with your free hand? I already have. Will you make a fist with yours? It's clenched.