Quotes About Cobwebs

Laughter is the brush that sweeps away the cobwebs of your heart.

I cleaned the attic with the wife the other day. Now I can't get the cobwebs out of her hair.

When I am old and addled I will make coronets like Cad, that have nothing to do with history, but represent the whimsy and cobwebs in my brain.

People are dust-bunnies," I finally respond, "little bundles of lint and cobwebs that collect in shadows and dark corners, held together and drawn together by fear. Once you see them clearly, trusting them becomes very easy. I trust everybody and I'm never disappointed. It can be the same for you.

When the cobwebs and dust pile up, all the musty thoughts and forgotten emotions get caught in their webs and attract spirits and all sorts of chaotic energy.

Down in the cellar, under a stair Covered with cobwebs Nobody cares Withered and pale forgotten it seems That's where i hide them, Yesterday's dreams. Shake out the memories, blow off the dust Smooth out the wrinkles Rub off the rust Remember the times they sparkled so bright Far out of sight Down in the cellar, under a stair Covered with cobwebs Nobody cares Withered and pale, forgotten it seems That's where I hide them, Yesterday's dreams.

COBWEBS. The spider as an artist    Has never been employed Though his surpassing merit    Is freely certified By every broom and Bridget    Throughout a Christian land. Neglected son of genius,    I take thee by the hand.

And when you clear away the cobwebs of the description of every job in the world, at the bottom of that job is service. It's service. And I took that ethic and applied it to my writing craft.

How neglected and desolate everything looked,' he wrote, plaintively: There was mould and rot everywhere, the debris of moths and bookworms, and a thick covering of cobwebs. The windows had not been opened for months, and not a ray of sunshine had penetrated through them to brighten the unfortunate books, which were slowly pining away: and when they were opened, what a cloud of noxious air streamed out.1

Laws are like cobwebs, which may catch small flies, but let wasps and hornets break through.

Out in the country, autumn was busy daubing the woods in orange and yellow. Rooks and gulls argued over newly ploughed fields. Behind veils of little cobwebs, the hedgerows blushed with berries.

There was an old woman tossed in a blanket,Seventeen times as high as the moon;But where she was going no mortal could tell,For under her arm she carried a broom.Old woman, old woman, old woman, said I,Whither, ah whither, ah whither so high?To sweep the cobwebs from the sky,And I'll be with you by and by.

I saw the earth far below as it really was, a little mud-heap in a great vastness, its kingdoms only cobwebs, its armies only crumbs.

from these Icarian heights, my feathers powdered with the dust of the stars, I saw the earth far below as it really was, a little mud-heap in a great vastness, its kingdoms only cobwebs, its armies only crumbs.

In India she had always felt hot and too languid to care much about anything. The fact was that the fresh wind from the moor had begun to blow the cobwebs out of her young brain and to waken her up a little.

The odor was of lunchtime or dinnertime, when, coming from every doorway, the smells of the various dishes mingle in the stairwell but are ruined by a stink of mold and cobwebs.

my soul has shadows – nooks and crannies where griefs, like cobwebs, collect

love Italy — I love my Florence. I love that 'hole of a place,' as Father Prout called it lately — with all its dust, its cobwebs, its spiders even, I love it, and with somewhat of the kind of blind, stupid, respectable, obstinate love which people feel when they talk of 'beloved native lands.' I feel this for Italy, by mistake for England. Florence is my chimney-corner, where I can sulk and be happy.

Her light gold complexion was dusted in cobwebs of silver.

Presupposition, principles, and such like forms still adorn the entrance to philosophy with their cobwebs.

The Black Angel came up from the roots and down from the branches. Her fingers are death and her hair is full of cobwebs and dream is her kingdom.

And in the attic, if she had managed to find her way up the steep and crumbling steps, she would have found the one room left open to the light, she would have stood, breathless, picking cobwebs from her fingers and her face, staring at a whole meadow of wildflowers and grasses, poppies and oxeyes and flowering coriander, all flourishing in bird droppings and all lunging pointedly towards the one square foot of available sky.

We try to hide it every way we can, but it always comes out, the lyricism. A Lithuanian connot live without nature. You can't detach him from the wide, green fields, from the brooks, the snow, the cobwebs flying through the air in late September, or from his forests, fragrant with moss and beries.

Laws are like cobwebs, which may catch small flies, but let wasps and hornets break through.