Quotes About Quilt

My quilting is dookie. All needlepoint-related things I should do better on, being honest.

ALone, she snuggled luxuriously down through the warm snowbank of linen and wool, sheet and cover, and the colors of the patchwork quilt were bright as the circus banners of old time. Lying there, she felt as small and secret as on those mornings eighty-some-odd years ago when, wakening, she comforted her tender bones in bed.

The radical right is so homophobic that they're blaming global warming on the AIDS quilt.

Did they always pass out after shifting back to human? It didn't seem very efficient. Or had he been hurt? Leaning to the side, she inspected the bronzed perfection spread over the quilt. her mouth went dry as she tried to concentrate on searching him for injuries. She'd never seen a man so magnificently...proportioned. A broad, chiseled chest. Powerful shoulders. Washboard abs. Long, muscular legs. And a huge... Yeah. Magnificently proportioned.

The radical right is so homophobic that they're blaming global warming on the AIDS quilt.

the soft weight of Europe pulled over us like a quilt.

Lizzy stepped back and noticed that each quilt block appeared to have been placed inside of a window frame. It made her think about how every window on earth had a different view—and that outside of every window was a world of possibilities.

Another macabre discovery was a quilt, which Faye had made from the murdered men's clothing.

Some things worked far better in imagination than reality. In imagination, she was intrepid and resourceful; in reality she wished she were home, wrapped in a quilt.

She thought of her life, her patchwork quilt of a life, pieced together from castoff scraps of this and that; experience, knowledge, clairvoyance. None of it made any sense to her.

Do you hear the snow against the window-panes, Kitty? How nice and soft it sounds! Just as if some one was kissing the window all over outside. I wonder if the snow LOVES the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says, Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.

In general, women who were able to sew or to quilt were able to earn extra bread rations, so coveted were even the slightest improvements to the standard uniform: the ability to distinguish oneself, to look slightly better than others, would become, as we shall see, associated with higher rank, better health, greater privilege.

sloped down to distant cliffs; farmland, ribboned with yellow gorse, broken by outcrops of granite, and patchworked into dozens of small fields. Like a quilt, thought Virginia, and saw the pasture fields as scraps of green velvet, the greenish gold of new-cut hay as shining satin, the

My head and shoulders melted first, followed by my hips and knees. Before long I was a puddle, soaking into the pretty cotton prints. I drenched the quilt she never finished, rusted the metal parts of her sewing machine. I was pure liquid loss...

A quilt will warm your body and comfort your soul.

It was a quilt of patches left over from the woolen coats that had passed through the family

To the poet as a basement quilt, but perhaps To some reader a latticework of regrets.

A Log Cabin quilt is a thing every young woman should have before marriage, as it means the home; and there is always a red square at the centre, which means the hearth fire.

My mother once made a quilt from dozens of pairs of second- and third- and fourth- hand blue jeans that she bought us at Goodwill, the Salvation Army, Value Village, and garage sales. My late sister studied my mother's denim quilt and said, 'That's a lot of pants. There's been a lot of ass in those pants. This is a blanket of asses.

It is warm, soon to be cold, but that's in the future, maybe tomorrow, probably the next day and all the days after that. Today, now, I drink what I have, will eat what is left in the cupboard, while my mother finishes her quilt, piece by piece. Believe me, there is just barely enough goodness in all of this.

I wondered vaguely if this was when it would end, whether I would pull up tonight's darkness like a quilt and be dead and at peace evermore.

thinks. All you do is just decide to do it, and then it's done. Instantly you feel better, like pushing aside a quilt that is too heavy for sleeping. Forgetting is the hard part.

She was a nightmare quilt from hooves to eyebrows, and she was running for her life.

I think of the brain as a computational device: It has a bunch of little components that perform calculations on some small aspect of the problem, and another part of the brain has to stitch it all together, like a tapestry or a quilt.