NEW feet within my garden go, New fingers stir the sod; A troubadour upon the elm Betrays the solitude. New children play upon the green, New weary sleep below; And still the pensive spring returns, And still the punctual snow!
There are some bored foreigners, with full stomachs, who have nothing better to do than point fingers at us … First, China doesn't export Revolution; second, China doesn't export hunger and poverty; third, China doesn't come and cause you headaches, what more is there to be said?xi jinping
When she goes about her kitchen duties, chopping, carving, mixing, whisking, she moves with the grace and precision of a ballet dancer, her fingers plying the food with the dexterity of a croupier.
Just as my fingers on these keys Make music, so the self-same sounds On my spirit make a music, too. Music is feeling, then, not a sound; And thus it is that what I feel, Here in this room, desiring you, Thinking of your blue-shadowed silk, Is music.wallace stevens
And tulips, children love to stretch Their fingers down, to feel in each Its beauty's secret nearer.Elizabeth Browning
First time he kissed me, but only kissed The fingers of this hand wherewith I write, And ever since it grew more clean and white?
When Iconsider thyheavens,theworkofthy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained; What is man, that thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that thou visitest him? For thou hast made him a little lower than the angels, and hast crowned him with glory and honour.Thou madest himtohave dominionover the works of thy hands; thou hast put all things under his feet.Bible (Old Testament)
Now the nimble fingers are no more nimble, And the silver thimble lies cold and tarnished black.
"Som-Som would later learn that the girl's name was Book. Ambiguous and suggestive sentences swirled out from the maroon bud of her nipple. Verses of elegant and cryptic passion followed the orbit of her left eye. Her fingers dripped with poetry."alan moore
When a man points a finger at someone else, he should remember that four of his fingers are pointing to himself.louis nizer
I have owed you this letter for a very long time — but my fingers have avoided the pencil as though it were an old and poisoned tool.john steinbeck
And history`s fingers never relax their grip, never leave us unmolested, can touch us even when we would never imagine their presence.robert fisk
But we, O blockhead, with dogged spite and armored love shall force those deaf dark powers to grow ears and hear us! I know that God is earless, eyeless, and heartless too, a brainless Dragon Worm that crawls on earth and hopes in anguish and then in secret that we'll give him soul, for then he, too, may sprout ears, eyes, to match his growth, but God is clay in my ten fingers, and I mould him!Nikos Kazantzakis
No action, whether foul or fair, Is ever done, but it leaves somewhere A record, written by fingers ghostly, As a blessing or a curse, and mostly In the greater weakness or greater strength Of the acts which follow it.Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Tolstoy set for himself the highest ideal that has ever been given to the world, and Tolstoy failed. He has had pointed at him fingers of scorn, and very unworthy fingers they were, but who has the right to judge Tolstoy for failure to live perfectly a life that has for two thousand years been an unattainable ideal to millions of earnest souls?
Oh! there is naught in nature bright Whose roses do not shed their light; When morning paints the Orient skies, Her fingers burn with roseate dyes.
People have their fingers broken. To be insulted by these fascists Is so degrading and it's no game .
Who says you cannot hold the moon in your hand? Tonight when the stars come out and the moon rises in the velvet sky, look outside you window, then raise you hand and position your fingers around the disk of light. There you go... That was easy!Vena Nazarian
lady fingers they taste just like lady fingers
Sure, he's not in hell; he's in Arthur's bosom, if ever man went to Arthur's bosom. 'A made a finer end, and went away, an it had been any christom child; 'a parted even just between twelve and one, even at the turning o’ the tide: for after I saw him fumble with the sheets, and play with flowers, and smile upon his fingers' ends, I knew there was but one way; for his nose was as sharp as a pen, and a’ babbled of green fields.william shakespeare