#weave

No matter what your reality looks like, you're the girl I'm in love with today, and the same girl I'll be in love with tomorrow and all the days after that. Not just because of who you are, but because of who you were. It's all part of your story, Em. And I want to be a part of your story, too. ↗

— Myra McEntire

#michael-weaver #love

In keeping with his cryptic nature, all your Story Weaver said was 'The horses know where to go.' It's certainly not a military strategy I would use, but I've learned that the south uses its own strategy. And, strangely enough, it works. ↗

— Maria V. Snyder

#leif #story-weaver #valek #yelena #nature

Hence, in desiring, the more the enjoyment is delayed, the more fancy begins to weave about the object images of future fruition, and to clothe the desired object with properties calculated to inflame the impulse. ↗

— Samuel Alexander

#begins #calculated #delayed #desired #desiring

Chemists employed by the police can do remarkable things with blood. They can weave it into a rope to hang a man. ↗

— Margery Allingham

#chemists #employed #hang #into #man

Though my books are written from a historical perspective, I have goon so far back that I am in the realm of prehistorical speculation rather than simple historical fact to weave my stories around. ↗

— Jean M. Auel

#around #back #books #fact #far

And I've always loved commercials. I like working out how to organically weave a brand's message into the writing process. It's like an improv show, where comics ask the audience to throw out a word and a skit is built around it. ↗

— Jason Bateman

#around #ask #audience #brand #built

Nature uses only the longest threads to weave her patterns, so that each small piece of her fabric reveals the organization of the entire tapestry. ↗

— Richard P. Feynman

#entire #fabric #her #longest #nature

I felt like when I took my weave out, I wasn't pretty, I wasn't noticeable. ↗

— Solange Knowles

#i #like #noticeable #out #pretty

Its substance was known to me. The crawling infinity of colours, the chaos of textures that went into each strand of that eternally complex tapestry…each one resonated under the step of the dancing mad god, vibrating and sending little echoes of bravery, or hunger, or architecture, or argument, or cabbage or murder or concrete across the aether. The weft of starlings’ motivations connected to the thick, sticky strand of a young thief’s laugh. The fibres stretched taut and glued themselves solidly to a third line, its silk made from the angles of seven flying buttresses to a cathedral roof. The plait disappeared into the enormity of possible spaces. Every intention, interaction, motivation, every colour, every body, every action and reaction, every piece of physical reality and the thoughts that it engendered, every connection made, every nuanced moment of history and potentiality, every toothache and flagstone, every emotion and birth and banknote, every possible thing ever is woven into that limitless, sprawling web. It is without beginning or end. It is complex to a degree that humbles the mind. It is a work of such beauty that my soul wept... ..I have danced with the spider. I have cut a caper with the dancing mad god. ↗

— China Miéville

#life-s-tapestry #spider #tapestry #the-fates #the-weaver

For support, I fall back on my heart. Has a man any fault a woman cannot weave with and try to change into something better, if the god her man prays to is a mother holding a baby? ↗

— Haniel Long

#baby #back #better #cannot #change