“I spent all night weaving a poem for you to wear. You look so beautiful when you wear my light.” — Kamand Kojouri Copy Share Image
Mrs Weaver nosed among the books, too dim-witted to grasp that they were in alphabetical order. — George Orwell Copy Share Image
“Good Gad, Weaver. That look upon your face is one of inspiration. I hardly know you any longer.” — David Liss Copy Share Image
Prodigious actions may as well be done, by weaver's issue, as the prince's son. — John Dryden Copy Share Image
“Weaver always says freedom is like Sloan's Liniment, always promising more than it delivers.” — Jennifer Donnelly Copy Share Image
“I am the weaver of hope, searching shadows for silver strands of stars. I make light out of darkness. I make dreams… — Christy Ann Martine Copy Share Image
“If Anthony Weaver knew anything, it was this: That life and love and country and duty…that all of these things faded in… — Kim Wright Copy Share Image
A weaver who has to direct and to interweave a great many little threads has no time to philosophize about it, but… — Vincent Van Gogh Copy Share Image
“Only a master weaver could intertwine dark and light threads in such a way that all one saw was beauty when looking… — Karen Witemeyer Copy Share Image
Like the weaver, the writer works on the wrong side of his material. He has only to do with the language, and… — Maurice Merleau-Ponty Copy Share Image
God, the Master Weaver. He stretches the yarn and intertwines the colors, the ragged twine with the velvet strings, the pains with… — Max Lucado Copy Share Image
“And still the Weaver plies his loom, whose warp and woof is wretched Man Weaving th' unpattern'd dark design, so dark we… — Sir Richard Francis Burton Copy Share Image
The Weaver is a really godlike power. It's not even a blind idiot god, a sort of Lovecraft thing, it's just a… — China Mieville Copy Share Image
“Only the spider paid no mind when the unicorn called softly to her through the open door. Arachne was busy with a… — Peter S. Beagle Copy Share Image
“The Weaver” “My life is but a weaving Between my God and me. I cannot choose the colors He weaveth steadily. Oft’… — Grant Colfax Tullar Copy Share Image
“The room behind me was dark. "Thief," intoned a lovely voice in the blackness. "You do know," Ianthe tittered from outside the… — Sarah J. Maas Copy Share Image
