A Quote by Carrie Fisher

I shot through my twenties like a luminous thread through a dark needle, blazing toward my destination: Nowhere. — © Carrie Fisher
I shot through my twenties like a luminous thread through a dark needle, blazing toward my destination: Nowhere.
Separation Your absence has gone through me Like thread through a needle. Everything I do is stitched with its color.
I don't like sewing machines. I don't understand how a needle with a thread going through the tip of it can interlock the thread by jamming itself into a little goddamn spool. It's contrary to nature and it irritates me.
The unifying thread through all these different aspects of music business is just my attraction toward working with sounds and designing new scary, evil, dark sounds.
I do not believe that any man can preach the gospel who does not preach the Law. The Law is the needle, and you cannot draw the silken thread of the gospel through a man’s heart unless you first send the needle of the Law to make way for it.
Out of the rhythm and sound of the sea that beat through the orchestra, something moved--pressing toward death with quiet insistent joy--the thread through the maze--the soul behind the toil and the crime and longing.
Having an exciting destination is like setting a needle in your compass. From then on, the compass knows only one point - its ideal. And it will faithfully guide you there through the darkest nights and fiercest storms
The law is not known, since there is nothing in it to know. We come across it only through its action, and it acts only through its sentence and its execution. It is not distinguishable from the application. We know it only through its imprint on our heart and our flesh: we are guilty, necessarily guilty. Guilt is like the moral thread which duplicates the thread of time.
Alan Shearer, Ian Wright, unbelievable centre-forwards - but you could not say to them: 'For the next three weeks I want you to play No 10 and thread the ball through the eye of a needle.'
The hero is one who kindles a great light in the world, who sets up blazing torches in the dark streets of life for men to see by. The saint is the man who walks through the dark paths of the world, himself a light.
Among the millions of nerve cells that clothe parts of the brain there runs a thread. It is the thread of time, the thread that has run through each succeeding wakeful hour of the individual.
I am the thread that runs through all these pearls, and each pearl is a religion or even a sect thereof. Such are the different pearls, and God is the thread that runs through all of them; most people, however, are entirely unconscious of it.
We make our way through Everything like thread passing through fabric, giving shape to images that we ourselves do not know.
Henceforth the cosmos, once a swarm of blazing galaxies, each a swarm of stars, was composed wholly of star-corpses. These dark grains drifted through the dark void, like an infinitely tenuous smoke rising from an extinguished fire. Upon these motes, these gigantic worlds, the ultimate populations had created here and there with their artificial lighting a pale glow, invisible even from the innermost ring of lifeless planets.
Time, which runs through the world like an endless tinsel thread, seemed to pass through the centre of this room and through the centre of these people and suddenly to pause and petrify, stiff, still and glittering... and the objects in the room drew a little closer together.
Poetry is like a puzzle-solving strategy for me. I like to poem my way through tricky questions and ideas. That's about the only consistent thread through my poem-creation process.
There's always light after the dark. You have to go through that dark place to get to it, but it's there, waiting for you. It's like riding on a train through a dark tunnel. If you get so scared you jump off in the middle of the ride, then you're there, in the tunnel, stuck in the dark. You have to ride the train all the way to the end of the ride.
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