My friends and my road-fellows, pity the nation that is full of beliefs and empty of religion. Pity the nation that wears a cloth it does not weave, eats a bread it does not harvest, and drinks a wine that flows not from its own winepress. Pity the nation that acclaims the bully as hero, and that deems the glittering conqueror bountiful. Pity the nation that raises not its voice save when it walks in a funeral, boasts not except among its ruins, and will rebel not save when its neck is laid between the sword and the block. Pity the nation whose statesman is a fox, whose philosopher is a juggler, and whose art is the art of patching and mimicking. Pity the nation that welcomes its new ruler with trumpetings, and farewells him with hootings, only to welcome another with trumpetings again. Pity the nation divided into fragments, each fragment deeming itself a nation.
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Don't stand by the water and long for fish; go home and weave a net
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Oh, the tangled webs we weave When we practice to deceive.
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Christmas--that magic blanket that wraps itself about us, that something so intangible that it is like a fragrance. It may weave a spell of nostalgia. Christmas may be a day of feasting, or of prayer, but always it will be a day of remembrance--a day in which we think of everything we have ever loved.
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In the small circle of pain within the skull You still shall tramp and tread one endless round Of thought, to justify your action to yourselves, Weaving a fiction which unravels as you weave, Pacing forever in the hell of make-believe Which never is belief: this is your fate on earth And we must think no further of you.
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Oh, what tangled webs we weave, When we first practice to deceive.
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Oh, what a tangled web we weave, When first we practice to deceive
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Oh what a tangled web we weave, When first we practise to deceive!
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Vain ambition of kings Who seek by trophies and dead things To leave a living name behind, And weave but nets to catch the wind.
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Oh what a tangled web we weave,
When first we practise to deceive!
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Fall the deep curtains, delicate the weave, fair the thread.
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The monopoly capitalists - even while employing purely empirical methods - weave around art a complicated web which converts it into a willing tool. The superstructure of society ordains the type of art in which the artist has to be educated. Rebels are subdued by its machinery and only rare talents may create their own work. The rest become shameless hacks or are crushed.
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Whatever befalls the earth befalls the son of the earth. Man did not weave the web of life; he is merely a strand of it. Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself.
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'Weave the warp and weave the woof, The winding-sheet of Edward's race.
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Some people weave burlap into the fabric of our lives, and some weave gold thread. Both contribute to make the whole picture beautiful and unique.
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Oh, what a tangled web do parents weave When they think that their children are nave.
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The city sleeps and the country sleeps, the living sleep for their time, the dead sleep for their time, the old husband sleeps by his wife and the young husband sleeps by his wife; and these tend inward to me, and I tend outward to them, and such as it is to be of these more or less I am, and of these one and all I weave the song of myself.
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There are times to cultivate and create, when you nurture your world and give birth to new ideas and ventures. There are times of flourishing and abundance, when life feels in full bloom, energized and expanding. And there are times of fruition, when things come to an end. They have reached their climax and must be harvested before they begin to fade. And finally of course, there are times that are cold, and cutting and empty, times when the spring of new beginnings seems like a distant dream. Those rhythms in life are natural events. They weave into one another as day follows night, bringing, not messages of hope and fear, but messages of how things are.
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Whatever befalls the earth befalls the sons and daughters of the earth. We did not weave the web of life We are merely a strand in it. What we do with the web, we do to ourselves...
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"'Weave the warp and weave the woof, The winding-sheet of Edward's race.
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In honored poverty thy voice did weave Songs consecrate to truth and liberty;—...
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If we are to achieve a richer culture, rich in contrasting values, we must recognize the whole gamut of human potentialities, and so weave a less arbitrary social fabric, one in which each diverse human gift will find a fitting place.
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There's something like a line of gold thread running through a man's words when he talks to his daughter, and gradually over the years it gets to be long enough for you to pick up in your hands and weave into a cloth that feels like love itself. Long enou
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Habit is a cable; we weave a thread each day, and at last we cannot break it.
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Man did not weave the web of life, he is merely a strand in it. Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself.
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'Man did not weave the web of life; he is merely a strand in it. Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself.'
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Oh, what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to believe.
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Begin to weave and God will give the thread.
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Weave in faith and God will find the thread.
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