Best 10650 quotes in «hands quotes» category

Bluebell, you couldn’t take me if I was blindfolded and had both hands tied behind my back.” “Bluebell?” Illium narrowed his eyes. “That’s it, Barbarian.

Bluetooth earpieces are so geeky," Dan Cahill said. "But they free up your hands for surfing the web, stealing priceless jewels, and eating pastry," Atticus said, taking a huge bite out of an apple strudel. "And picking your nose," Dan added, which caused Atticus to blow a mouthful of strudel all over the seat in front of them occupied by Dan's sister, Amy, who was trying to sleep

...Bliss is not something to be got. On the other hand you are always Bliss. This desire [for Bliss] is born of the sense of incompleteness. To whom is this sense of incompleteness? Enquire. In deep sleep you were blissful. Now you are not so. What has interposed between that Bliss and this non-bliss? It is the ego. Seek its source and find you are Bliss.

Books are everywhere; and always the same sense of adventure fills us. Second-hand books are wild books, homeless books; they have come together in vast flocks of variegated feather, and have a charm which the domesticated volumes of the library lack. Besides, in this random miscellaneous company we may rub against some complete stranger who will, with luck, turn into the best friend we have in the world.

Bod said, 'I want to see life. I want to hold it in my hands. I want to leave a footprint on the sand of a desert island. I want to play football with people. I want,' he said, and then he paused and he thought. 'I want everything.

Bones glanced behind me, with just the barest inclination of his head. I walked away from him, muttering, "Don't worry, you don't need to have Mencheres break out the invisible straitjacket again. I haven't gone crazy. I just didn't understand until now." He still looked like he was debating having Mencheres lay the power whammy on me, so I sat down by Kira in a very deliberate manner, folding my hands in my lap. There. Didn't I look calm and sane?

Books are attracted to me. They make a beeline for me, and stick to me. I have been so fond of them that at last they have begun to reciprocate. In my hands books burst like ripe fruit. Like magic flowers they unfold their petals to show me the vital thought, the suggestive word, the confirming quotation, the decisive illustration.

Books are standing counselors and preachers, always at hand, and always disinterested; having this advantage over oral instructors, that they are ready to repeat their lesson as often as we please.

Books go out into the world, travel mysteriously from hand to hand, and somehow find their way to the people who need them at the times when they need them ... Cosmic forces guide such passings-along.

Boozing does not necessarily have to go hand in hand with being a writer. . .I therefore solemnly declare to all young men trying to become writers that they do not actually have to become drunkards first.

Books on the openings abound; nor are works on the end game wanting; but those on the middle game can be counted on the fingers of one hand.

Books are surviving in this intense, fragmented, hyper-accelerated present, and my sense and hope is that things will slow down again and people will want more time for a contemplative life. There is no way people can keep up this pace. No one is happy. Two or three hours to read should not be an unattainable thing, although I hope we get to that stage without needing a corporate sponsored app to hold our hand. The utopian in me has my fingers crossed that we haven't quite figured out the digital future just yet. After all, the one thing we know about people: they always surprise.

Books seek us out. They slip themselves into our hands just at the time we are ready for a new self-concept.

Books that you may carry to the fire, and hold readily in your hand, are the most useful after all.

Both in individuals and in masses violent excitement is always followed by remission, and often by reaction. We are all inclined to depreciate whatever we have overpraised, and, on the other hand, to show undue indulgence where we have shown undue rigor.

Born in a stable, Cradled in a manger, In the world His hands have made, Born a stranger.

Bountiful as is the hand of Providence, its gifts are not so bestowed as to seduce us into indolence, but to rouse us to exertion.

Boycott brought about anyhow of British cloth cannot yield the same results as such boycott brought about by hand-spinning and khaddar.

Boxing is really hard because you have to be in really good shape to have all those rules and just using your hands.

Boxing is not brutal, it's an art - God has gifted me with incredible handspeed as a tool to be used - what else am I supposed to do but fight? There ain't no hand-racing competitions.

Bran grabbed my hand,pulled me to a chest, and swung the heavy lid open. A white cloth covered the contents. He jerked it aside. Human heads filled the chest. "Oh God." He scooped a mummified head from the chest by a scalp lock and thrust it at me. "All of them are mine." This was officially the weirdest version of "come down to my place and I'll show you some etchings" I've ever been hit with.

Boys who spent their weekends making banana nut muffins did not, as a rule, excel in the art of hand-to-hand combat.

Break in the hands of God, He'll unbreak you. Break in the hands of people, you'll remain forever broken. Break to no one, your heart will remain hard.

Brenna’s eyes widened. Raising a hand, she brushed his hair gently off his forehead. “Why do I keep telling you things I swore I’d take to my grave?” The contact shot electricity through his nerves. “Because you know I’ll always be your shield against the nightmares.

Bright pledge of peace and sunshine! the sure tie Of thy Lord's hand, the object of His eye! When I behold thee, though my light be dim, Distinct, and low, I can in thine see Him Who looks upon thee from His glorious throne, And minds the covenant between all and One.

Bridget did the only thing she could do in this situation that wouldn't end with her doing a life stint in prison. She flipped the woman off. With both hands.

Bright clasp of her whole hand around my finger My daughter as we walk together now. All my life I'll feel a ring invisibly Circle this bone with shining When she is grown.

Breezy, self-confident Christians tell us how wonderful it is to accept Christ and then have a good time all the rest of your life; the Lord won't demand anything of you. Yes, He will, my friend! The Lord will demand everything of you. And when you give it all up to Him, He may bless it and hand it back, but on the other hand He may not.

Broad access to opportunity is the key to a truly equitable America. No matter who you are or where you grew up, Black Faces in White Places provides a blueprint to seizing opportunities at hand - and expanding opportunity for your entire community.

Brooding, she changed the pool into the sea, and made the minnows into sharks and whales, and cast vast clouds over this tiny world by holding her hand against the sun, and so brought darkness and desolation, like God himself, to millions of ignorant and innocent creatures, and then took her hand away suddenly and let the sun stream down.

Britain kept its position as the dominant world power well into the 20th century despite steady decline. By the end of World War II, dominance had shifted decisively into the hands of the upstart across the sea, the United States, by far the most powerful and wealthy society in world history.

Brothers don't shake hands. Brothers gotta hug.

Brotherhood doesn't come in a package. It is not a commodity to be taken down from the shelf with one hand - it is an accomplishment of soul-searching, prayer and perseverance.

Bruises mapped my body from bumping into tables and tripping over curbs while walking with a book in my hand, my eyes focused on the pages instead of the live space around me.

Build a bridge by extending your hand.

Building software implies various stages of planning, preparation and execution that vary in kind and degree depending on what's being built. [...] Building a four-foot tower requires a steady hand, a level surface, and 10 undamaged beer cans. Building a tower 100 times that size doesn't merely require 100 times as many beer cans.

Buoyed by water, he can fly in any direction - up, down, sideways - by merely flipping his hand. Under water, man becomes an archangel.

BUILD UP YOUR CIRCLE.... A mind that perceives What can rationally be. A spirit that sees Innovative possibility. A heart that is open to Both beginnings and ends. A firm hand that fits readily To the reach of a friend.

Bury my body and don't build any monument. Keep my hands out so the people know the one who won the world had nothing in hand when he died.

But, as always, Mr. Rooney would come over and shake your hand and congratulate you on a good game, no matter what the situation was.

But as the Pope has a long arm, which might reach me in France, I have gone a little out of the way to tell him the plain truths contained in these pages.

But a knife ain't just a thing, is it? It's a choice, it's something you do. A knife says yes or no, cut or not, die or don't. A knife takes a decision out of your hand and puts it in the world and it never goes back again.

But Anne with her elbows on the window sill, her soft cheek laid against her clasped hands, and her eyes filled with visions, looked out unheedingly across city roof and spire to that glorious dome of sunset sky and wove her dreams of a possible future from the golden tissue of youth's own optimism. All the Beyond was hers, with its possibilities lurking rosily in the oncoming years — each year a rose of promise to be woven into an immortal chaplet.

But, children, you should never let Such angry passions rise; Your little hands were never made To tear each other's eyes.

[But] age, the common enemy of mankind, has laid his hand upon you; would that it had fallen upon some other, and that you were still young.

...but Dimitri...well, my former lover and instructor was in a category all his own. His fighting skills were beyond anyone else's, and he was using them all in defense of me. "Stay back," he ordered me. "They aren't laying a hand on you.

But how shall we excuse the supine inattention of the Pagan and philosophic world to those evidences which were presented by the hand of Omnipotence, not to their reason, but to their senses? During the age of Christ, of his apostles, and their first disciples, the doctrine which they preached was confirmed by innumerable prodigies. The lame walked, the blind saw, the sick were healed, the dead were raised, daemons were expelled, and the laws of Nature were frequently suspended for the benefit of the church.

But for the cravings of the belly not a bird would have fallen into the snare; nay, nay, the fowler would not have spread his net. The belly is chains to the hands and fetters to the feet. He who is a slave to his belly seldom worships God.

But hands are sacred things. Touch is personal, fingers of love, feelers of blind eyes, tongues of those who cannot talk.

But he had hardly felt the absurdity of those things, on the one hand, and the necessity of those others, on the other, (for it is rare that the feeling of absurdity is not followed by the feeling of necessity), when he felt the absurdity of those things of which he had just felt the necessity (for it is rare that the feeling of necessity is not followed by the feeling of absurdity.)