I marvel at how good I was before I met him, how I lived molded to the smallest space possible, my days the size of little beads that passed without passion through my fingers. So few people know what they're capable of. At forty-two I'd never done anything that took my own breath away, and I suppose now that was part of the problem - my chronic inability to astonish myself.
These heroes of finance are like beads on a string; when one slips off, all the rest follow.
I will not say it is not Christian to make beads of others faults, and tell them over every day; I say it is infernal. If you want to know how the Devil feels, you do know, if you are such an one.
Fool indeed is he, who, living on the banks of the Ganga, digs a little well for water. Fool indeed is the man who, coming to a mine of diamonds, begins to search for glass beads.
When I was a kid, I was trendier. I'd wear anything. I was in love beads and platforms. . .
Every seam, every lace, every bead has been painstakingly, with love, corrected, perfected and mastered.
Dark furrow lines grid the snow, punctuated by orange abacus beads of pumpkins - now the crows own the field.
Loyalty to God is alone fundamental. Feelings, words, deeds, must be beads strung on the string of duty.
Irish Catholics are more interested in the rosary beads than in the rosary.
The Shobogenzo is an enormous work that captures the vastness of Dogen's realization. Kaz, over many years, threaded the beads of these many fascicles into a great mala of wisdom.
The mark of the Christian is the willingness to look for the Divine in the flesh of a babe in a crib, the continuing Christ under the appearance of bread on an altar, and a meditation and a prayer on a string of beads
The big problem for comic art is you don't want to overwork it. If a drawing is overworked it isn't funny. It's the spontaneity that keeps a work fresh and funny. If they can see how hard you work, if they can see the beads of sweat, it's no good. I always try to make it look easy.
It is the mass dream of inverted self, populous with fears overt and secret, that forms the continuous but gossamer thread upon which are strung as phantom beads all civilizations from the remotest past of record to that of the present day and hour.
I can't tell anybody else how to run their life or their business, but I really believe I've got a good bead on myself.
Reading a text is more like tracing this process of constant flickering than it is like counting the beads on a necklace.
Meditation doesn't have to be complicated. What I do is about as simple as you can get. You could just count the beads, one, two, three, with your eyes closed or open, whatever makes you happy.
Wearing love beads and touting our sincerity will not make this a safer world.
I belong to no race nor time. I am the eternal feminine with its string of beads.
It's the city's crush and heave that move you; its intricacy; its endless life. You know the story about Manhattan as a wilderness purchased for strings of beads, but you find it impossible not to believe that it has always been a city; that if you dug beneath it you would find the ruins of another, older city, and then another and another.
Here is the door of my mom's house, well-remembered childhood portal. Here is the yard, and a set of wires that runs from the house to a wooden pole, and some fat birds sitting together on the wires, five of them lined up like beads on an abacus.
