A Quote by Desmond Tutu
At home in South Africa I have sometimes said in big meetings where you have black and white together: 'Raise your hands!' Then I have said: 'Move your hands,' and I've said 'Look at your hands - different colors representing different people. You are the Rainbow People of God.'
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I've heard it said that grace is God reaching God's hands into the world. And the Bible tells us that we are part of the body of Christ, that if we let the Spirit move through us, we can become the hands of Christ on earth. Hands that heal, bless, unite, and love. I'd like to think God's hands are a bit like Grace's man hands—gentle but big, busy, and tough. God's hands are those of a creator—an artist who molded and shaped the universe out of a void, who hewed matter from nothingness.
I’m like America ” he said. Stephanie swung around to look at him unnerved. “What are you talking about ” she said. “Are you off your meds ” “Our hands are dirty ” Jules said.
The best advice when playing from the small blind is to mix up your play. The general rules are to fold garbage hands, limp with marginal hands, and raise with hands that are strong enough to play big pots with. Don't allow your opponents, however, to pick up patterns in your play.
Jem leaned closer against the chair, staring into the fire. “Better it were my hands,” he said. Will shook his head. Exhaustion was muting the edges of everything in the room, blurring the flocked wallpaper into a single mass of dark color. “No. Not your hands. You need your hands for the violin. What do I need mine for?
I'm jealous of your hooks," Kevin replied. "Having no hands is better than having two equally strong hands." Don't be ridiculous," one of the white-faced women replied. "Having a white face is worse than both of your situations." But you have a white face because you put makeup on," Colette said, as Sunny climbed back out of the trunk and knelt down in the snow. "You're putting powder on your face right now.
I love your hands,' he sighed. 'You think I look like an angel? Well, Kitten, your hands are my heaven and your eyes are my home.'" (Bones)
Your hands are not made to type out memos. Or put paper through fax machines. Or hold a phone up while you talk to people you dislike. One hundred years from now, your hands will rot like dust in your grave. You have to make wonderful use of those hands now. Kiss your hands so they can make magic.
Your hands are not made to type out memos. Or put paper through fax machines. Or hold a phone up while you talk to people you dislike. 100 years from now your hands will rot like dust in your grave. You have to make wonderful use of those hands now. Kiss your hands so they can make magic.
Roman Polanski actually said as much to me once. He had his head in his hands, and I said, "Roman, I've got to tell you, as an actor, seeing the director with his head in his hands... Look, I really want to do what you want me to do." And he went away and he came back, having obviously thought about what I said. And he said, "When my head is in my hands, I'm closing my eyes and trying to remember what I saw in my head, before any of the stuff."
Dr. Spock, who said, Never raise your hands to your kids. It leaves your groin unprotected. Never got a dinner!
…but Sassenach—I am the true home of your heart, and I know that.” He lifted my hands to his mouth and kissed my upturned palms, one and then the other, his breath warm and his beard-stubble soft on my fingers. “I have loved others, and I do love many, Sassenach—but you alone hold all my heart, whole in your hands,” he said softly. “And you know that.
And if you had no tongue, no celebrating language, you’d do this: cross your hands at the wrist with palms facing towards you; place your crossed wrists over your heart (the middle of your chest, anyway); then move your hands outwards a short distance, and open them towards the object of your love. It’s just as eloquent as speech.
Querida, it's alright," he said. "No one has hurt me in years." "Hey, you're supposed to be my brother," I said, trying to joke. "Brother's don't hold their sisters' hands or call them querida." Seb smiled, his hazel eyes starting to dance. "Yes, they do," he said. "This happens all the time." "Well I guess things are different in Mexico then," I said. "Because in America, no way. And I'm an American." "But you're in Mexico now," he pointed out. "Right. And you're saying here, boys holds hands with their sisters and call them sweetheart." "Oh yes. We're very friendly, we Mexicans.
You won't even take your bow? Are you planning to throttle a moose with your bare hands, then?" "I've a knife in my boot," she said, and then wondered, for a moment, if she could throttle a moose with her bare hands.
I remember when we came in, in 2013, and I was implementing our border protection policy, people threw their hands up - and I said, 'I'm doing what I said I would do in the way I said I'd do it' - and guess what: I'm now getting the results I said I'd get.
And I asked my mother about it; I said, 'Is there something wrong?' She said, 'God... God makes people. You understand that, don't you?' And I said, 'Yeah!' She said, 'Who makes a rainbow?" I said, 'God.' She said, 'I never presumed to tell anyone who could make a rainbow what color to make children.'
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