A Quote by Jeff Lindsay

Life teaches us that human thought almost never walks hand in hand with logic, and it is usually counterproductive to raise the point. — © Jeff Lindsay
Life teaches us that human thought almost never walks hand in hand with logic, and it is usually counterproductive to raise the point.
Raise your hand if you’ve spent nights crying yourself to sleep, raise your hand if you’ve felt as if you’d rather hide in bed all day than face the people that make you feel small or powerless! Raise your hand if you’ve felt as if you’d rather lie to people than tell them the truth about who you really are, because at least you wouldn’t be the victim of hateful behavior or prejudice! And raise your hand if lying feels almost as bad.
My left hand is my thinking hand. The right is only a motor hand. This holds the hammer. The left hand, the thinking hand, must be relaxed, sensitive. The rhythms of thought pass through the fingers and grip of this hand into the stone.
There was never much question as to what I was going to do in life, because working with clay was what I could do . . . there are things I watch my hand do that are almost thoughtless. I can remember the moment of learning them. It is knowledge you have in the hand.
"God is love". His is not a sentimental, emotional kind of love but the love of the Father who is the origin of all life, the love of the Son who dies on the Cross and is raised, the love of the Spirit who renews human beings and the world. Thinking that God is love does us so much good, because it teaches us to love, to give ourselves to others as Jesus gave himself to us and walks with us. Jesus walks beside us on the road through life.
And I have been able to give freedom and life which was acknowledged in the ecstasy of walking hand in hand across the most beautiful bridge of the world, the cables enclosing us and pulling us upward in such a dance as I have never walked and never can walk with another.
Artwork is not thought up in consciousness and then, as a separate phase, executed by the hand. The hand surprises us creates and solves problems on its own. Often, enigmas that baffle our brains are dealt with easily, unconsciously, by the hand.
We were aware of the fact that death walks hand in hand with struggle.
Work is style, and there is style without thought; not in theory, only in fact. When I take a sentence in my hand, raise it to the light, rub my hand across it, disjoin it, put it back together again with a comma added, raising the pitch in the front part; when I rub the grain of it, comb the fur of it, re-assemble the bones of it, I am making something that carries with it the sound of a voice, the firmness of a hand. Maybe little more.
When I was younger, all I cared about was what people thought of me and my films. Now I care less about catering, hand-serving, hand-feeding the audience. I've gotten to the point now in my life where I'm serving myself.
We love to make sure all the boxes are checked - that we aren't just prepared but over-prepared before we raise our hand. It's that discipline that I love most about women, but it's also what holds us women back the most because by the time we raise our hand, that opportunity is often gone.
Responsibility walks hand in hand with capacity and power.
In chess, as played by a good player, logic and imagination must go hand in hand, compensating each other.
The boy and girl going hand in hand through a meadow; the mother washing her baby; the sweet simple things in life. We have almost lost track of them. On the one side, we over-intellectualize everything; on the other hand, we are over-mechanized. We can understand the danger of the atomic bomb, but the danger of our misunderstanding the meaning of life is much more serious.
I would never want to reach out someday with a soft, uncallused hand-a hand never dirtied by serving-and shake the nail-pierced hand of Jesus.
The thing is, is to raise your hand. It's not to hide, and it's not to try and pretend or do anything like that. You raise your hand, that's the best thing about it.
The boy and girl going hand in hand through a meadow; the mother washing her baby; the sweet simple things in life. We have almost lost track of them.
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