Quotes About Quilt

He felt awe as he looked up at those stars, but also a deep and abiding contentment, such as he had felt as a child, awakening in the night, safe and warm beneath his quilt, drowsing half in and half out of sleep, listening to the wind sing its lonely song of other places and other lives.

The power of words is awful, Frida. Sometimes I want to bury my typewriter in a box of quilts. The radio makes everything worse, because of the knack for amplifying dull sounds. Any two words spoken in haste might become law of the land. But you never know which two. You see why I won't talk to newsmen.

I like to do interior design, I love to quilt, I love to see different colors together, and I love to match things up.

I've always thought a quilt held together with a woman's tears to be the strongest of all.

If I can leave you with a bit of advice, it is to never stop living and growing and learning, both together and separately. Life comes with only one guarantee - it will not last forever. Embrace every day and know that there is never a shadow so dark that some joy can't find its way through if you let it. Like a quilt, life comes together one piece at a time, and it takes some patience before you can stand back and proclaim it a masterpiece.

It's all a quilt of fairy tales with a patch here and there of truth.

I'm gonna take your mother back to Lincoln," I says. "I'm gonna get her a new coffin, a nice one, and a nice angel headstone. I'll put her in the ground real good and all at my expense." I expect Billy to smile or say thank you or something but she is looking hard at the wrapped quilt, thinking. There's a part of the dress, just a little bit of the hem

It is quite conversational sounding in spite of the elaborate 7-line pentameter stanzas rhyming ababcbc and is more ambitious than anything I've ever done, although I feel to be doing it like a patchwork quilt, without anything more than the general idea it should come out a rectangular shape, but not seeing how the logical varicolored pieces should fit.

Where are you? In the barn wrapped up in a quilt with an old pregnant cow that won't get on the ball and deliver her calf. Jack was wrong when he thought she'd calve tonight. Every song that played all day on the radio reminded me of you, Red. I miss you so bad.

Living a connected life leads one to take a different view. Life is less a quest than a quilt. We find meaning, love, and prosperity through the process of stitching together our bold attempts to help others find their own way in their lives. The relationships we weave become an exquisite and endless pattern.

Like a patchwork quilt, I realize now that it's the culmination of small beautiful moments that makes the quilt of our lives so beautiful. And even though we haven't had as much time to create the fabric for the squares of ours, I know without a doubt that I will leave behind an entire quilt of beautiful moments.

I wonder if she was goin' to quilt it or just knot it?

I read my books at night, like that, under the quilt with the overheated reading lamp. Reading all those good lines while suffocating. It was magic.

The children quivered and drew the quilt up to their noses, and Luce could feel them squirming towards her, their feet reaching under the covers to touch her hip where she sat on the edge of the bed. When the big goat laid the troll low, they drew a deep breath and let it out slow. By the third night, she had them joining her to shout the final lines. Snip, snap, snout. This tale's told out.

Each member of the family in his own cell of consciousness, each making his own patchwork quilt of reality - collecting fragments of experience here, pieces of information there. From the tiny impressions gleaned from one another, they created a sense of belonging and tried to make do with the way they found each other.

Don't lose them," Mrs. Fang said. "They're expensive as hell." The fangs had been purchased from a cut-rate dentist open to interesting trades in exchange for services rendered. They had given him an antique quilt from the Civil War, which had been in Mr. Fang's family for years, and had received, after their molding and fitting, four sets of fangs, snap-fit dentures that would go over their actual teeth and could be reused for years.

It's all a quilt of fairy tales with a patch here and there of truth.

Down the endless halls of quilt My silver thread of tears is split. My fingerbone the key that broke My blood the oil that smooth the lock.

Perhaps memory is a thing that everyone involved has to work at, like stitching up a big quilt out of everything that ever happened to you.

He discards a quilt for fear of bugs.

A quilt will warm your body and comfort your soul.

memories are the patches that make up the quilt of our emotions. A beautiful way to put it, but wrong. If that were true, then memories would blanket us, they would keep us warm. My memories were chilling me to the bone.

You have to choose your combinations careful. The right choices will enhance your quilt. The wrong choices will dull the colors and hide their original beauty. There are no rules you can follow. You have to go by instinct and you have to be brave.

Beneath the quilt she is no more than a bundle of rotten sticks