Quotes about twigs (13 Quotes)


    It rasped her, though, to have stirring about in her this brutal monster! to hear twigs cracking and feel hooves planted down in the depths of that leaf-encumbered forest, the soul; never to be content quite, or quite secure, for at any moment the brute would be stirring, this hatred...


    He is very fond of me, almost too fond. I could do with less caressing and more rationality. I should like to be less of a pet and more of a friend, if I might choose; but I won't complain of that: I am only afraid his affection loses in depth where it gains in ardour. I sometimes liken it to a fire of dry twigs and branches compared with one of solid coal, very bright and hot; but if it should burn itself out and leave nothing but ashes behind.




    It doesn't take much. We have high winds, relatively low humidity and as it gets to be late afternoon the sun warms things up and all it takes is a spark and the fine fuels, the grass and twigs, will ignite very easily.


    Sticks are something we all have in common. Everybody knows sticks - the twigs and branches picked up on grandfather's farm the branches woven in grandmother's basket. Somewhere threaded in all the public mass is a common thread, and that thread is the human spirit.

    Great talents are the most lovely and often the most dangerous fruits on the tree of humanity. They hang upon the most slender twigs that are easily snapped off.

    The appearance of our streets and gutters is getting ridiculous, ... A significant percentage of people are allowing their gutters to be a collection point for leaves, twigs and limbs. I'd like the council to consider how we go in there and start cleaning gutters.



    Her vine, the merry cheerer of the heart,
    Unpruned dies; her hedges even-pleach'd,
    Like prisoners wildly overgrown with hair,
    Put forth disorder'd twigs; her fallow leas
    The darnel, hemlock, and rank fumitory,
    Doth root upon, while that the coulter rusts
    That should deracinate such savagery;
    The even mead, that erst brought sweetly forth
    The freckled cowslip, burnet, and green clover,
    Wanting the scythe, all uncorrected, rank,
    Conceives by idleness, and nothing teems
    But hateful docks, rough thistles, kecksies, burs,
    Losing both beauty and utility.



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