The universe is a continuous web. Touch it at any point and the whole web quivers.
How blunt are all the arrows of thy quiver in comparison with those of guilt.
The devil hath not, in all his quiver's choice, An arrow for the heart like a sweet voice.
Let Fortune empty her whole quiver on me, I have a soul that, like an ample shield, Can take in all, and verge enough for more; Fate was not mine, nor am I Fate's: Souls know no conquerors.
The limbs will quiver and move after the soul is gone.
I painted the picture, and in the colors the rhythm of the music quivers. I painted the colors I saw.
Children are arrows in a quiver, and they are to be trained as missionaries and shot at the Devil.
If you don't like it you can kiss my quiver
When the people stare at the sky and dream of blessedness, or when they quiver with fear for hell after death, their eyes get blinded so they can't see their own right of primogeniture.
Everything that is dead quivers. Not only the things of poetry, stars, moon, wood, flowers, but even a white trouser button glittering out of a puddle in the street... Everything has a secret soul, which is silent more often than it speaks.
What was time itself but the bloom, the sheath enfolding experience? Within time, and with time alone, there was life - the gleam, the quiver, the heartbeat, the immeasurable joy and anguish of being.
I've been up, down, trying to get the feeling again. All around, trying to get the feeling again. The one that makes me shiver, made my knees start to quiver.
Love one another, but make not a bond of love.
I have a soul that like an ample shield Can take in all, and verge enough for more.
We are in the mountains and they are in us, kindling enthusiasm, making every nerve quiver, filling every pore and cell of us....How glorious a conversion, so complete and wholesome it is, scarce memory enough of old bondage days left as a standpoint to view it from! In this newness of life we seem to have been so always
As the strings of a lute are apart though they quiver the same music.
The day is done; and slowly from the scene the stooping sun upgathers his spent shafts, and puts them back into his golden quiver!
Books are living things and their task lies in their vows of silence. You touch them as they quiver with a divine pleasure. You read them and they fall asleep to happy dreams for the next 10 years. If you do them the favor of understanding them, of taking in their portions of grief and wisdom, then they settle down in contented residence in your heart.
My voice has a quiver/ A quiver is where you keep arrows until you shoot them.
I tell you, brethren, if mercies and if judgments do not convert you, God has no other arrows in His quiver.
I used many times to touch my own chest and feel, under its asthmatic quiver, the engine of the heart and lungs and blood and feel amazed at what I sensed was the enormity of the power I possessed. Not magical power, but real power. The power simply to go on, the power to endure, that is power enough, but I felt I had also the power to create, to add, to delight, to amaze and to transform.
When I first started, I was really nervous. You could hear my voice quiver. So I started drinking a bit and that helped. A lot of entertainers have a few drinks before going onstage and don't overdo it. Me, it turned into a bigger habit. But I stopped that. I was getting older, and I was thinking about my kids. There's enough roadblocks out there without throwing in more yourself.
We are now in the mountains and they are in us, kindling enthusiasm, making every nerve quiver, filling every pore and cell of us. Our flesh-and-bone tabernacle seems transparent as glass to the beauty about us, as if truly an inseparable part of it, thrilling with the air and trees, streams and rocks, in the waves of the sun,-a part of all nature, neither old nor young, sick nor well, but immortal.
Walking on the land or digging in the fine soil I am intensely aware that time quivers slightly, changes occurring in imperceptible and minute ways, accumulating so subtly that they seem not to exist. Yet the tiny shifts in everything--cell replication, the rain of dust motes, lengthening hair, wind-pushed rocks--press inexorably on and on.
So the struck eagle, stretch'd upon the plain, No more through rolling clouds to soar again, View'd his own feather on the fatal dart, And wing'd the shaft that quiver'd in his heart.
Follow AzQuotes on Facebook, Twitter and Google+. Every day we present the best quotes! Improve yourself, find your inspiration, share with friends
or simply: