Hands Quotes
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With this information, in light of the increasing human demands on vegetation, it is my personal opinion that capping CO2 emissions or reducing them to some prior level would be akin to 'biting the hand that feeds us.
Keith E. Idso
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Such is of the course of deeds that move the wheels of the world: small hands do them because they must, while the eyes of the great are elsewhere.
J. R. R. Tolkien
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God's got his hands in a lot of human pies.
Wyatt Cenac
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The public spirit is in the hands of the man who knows how to make use of it.
Napoleon Bonaparte
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I was used to having stones in my hands, but I realized now I needed both hands free to get to work… On me.
Benjamin L. Corey
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We lived in the same house. That much was true enough. But mostly we lived in our own particular and peculiar bodies. Bodies we didn't choose. We hear, we see, we smell, we feel with our eyes and noses, ears and hands. We have minds. We have hearts. We have mouths and tongues. That is all we have. That is the only way we know anything--the the smallness of our own insignificant bodies. And so we remain separate, residents of our own small, separate countries.
Benjamin Alire Saenz
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Well!' said Puddleglum, rubbing his hands. 'This is just what I needed. If these chaps don't teach me to take a serious view of life, I don't know what will.
C. S. Lewis
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Knowledge and the study of God's Word is voided by the folding of unwilling hands.
Joshua Roman
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Popular glory is a perfect coquette; her lovers must toil, feel every inquietude, indulge every caprice, and perhaps at last be jilted into the bargain. True glory, on the other hand, resembles a woman of sense; her admirers must play no tricks. They feel no great anxiety, for they are sure in the end of being rewarded in proportion to their merit.
Oliver Goldsmith
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Death to all modifiers, he declared one day, and out of every letter that passed through his hands went every adverb and every adjective.
Joseph Heller
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Nothing is more pleasant than to see a pretty woman, her napkin well placed under her arms, one of her hands on the table, while the other carries to her mouth, the choice piece so elegantly carved.
Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin
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I thought of my father, alone and elsewhere, his head cradled in his hands. I thought of the day he'd punched a hole straight through the kitchen wall, thinking she'd be tucked away inside. All those places he'd looked and never found. Inside their mattress. In stained-glass windows. How he'd scoured the carpet for her stray hair and strung them all together with a ribbon; how he'd slept with that one lock swathed across his nostrils, hugging a pillow fitted with a nightshirt. How he'd dug up the backyard, stripped and sweating. How he'd played her favorite album on repeat and loud, a lure. How when we took up the carpet in my bedroom to find her, under the carpet was wood. Under the wood there was cracked concrete. Under the concrete there was dirt. Under the dirt there was a cavity of water. I swam down into the water with my nose clenched and lungs burning in my chest but I could not find the bottom and I couldn't see a thing.
Blake Butler