A Quote by Cathleen Falsani

Trying to explain or define grace is like catching the wind in a cardboard box or describing the color green. — © Cathleen Falsani
Trying to explain or define grace is like catching the wind in a cardboard box or describing the color green.
A part is always too limited to explain the whole. You might picture a worldview as trying to stuff the entire universe into a box. Invariably, something will stick out of the box. Its categories are too "small" to explain the world.
Life is like a box of crayons. Most people are the 8-color boxes, but what you're really looking for are the 64-color boxes with the sharpeners on the back. I fancy myself to be a 64-color box, though I've got a few missing.
I love a cardboard coffin. Both Mummy and Daddy went off in cardboard coffins, painted - Daddy's was rifle green. Beautifully made.
I have trouble describing my own style, since it's sort of like describing my own eye color or something.
My experience may be different than theirs, readers can identify with trying to save for retirement or their own kid's college fund. In truth, the name of the column, "The Color of Money," has less to do with my race than the fact that the color of money is green and it's green we all need to live a good life.
Green how I love you green. Green wind. Green boughs. The ship on the sea And the horse on the mountain.
I have trouble actually describing myself because I'm always suspicious of people who start describing themselves. I'm like, "OK, why are you trying to tell me what you are?"
It's what's on the record not what labels on it. You know, that's like getting a box of cornflakes and eating the cardboard.
I don't come from a rich family - it's not like we lived in a cardboard box, but we didn't have a ton of money.
I now know all shades of the color green, having spent 90 days staring at that green screen. I'll never forget that color, as long as I live.
I don't know that I could really define love. I can't . . . again, it's like trying to define what this creative force is. It's beyond my ability to really define. If I can define it, then it's not it. We're right back to that thing again.
Trying to explain what community is to someone who's never experienced it is like trying to explain what an artichoke tastes like.
Dark green is my favorite color. It's the color of nature and the color of money and the color of moss!
And talking about dark! You think dark is just one color, but it ain't. There're five or six kinds of black. Some silky, some woolly. Some just empty. Some like fingers. And it don't stay still, it moves and changes from one kind of black to another. Saying something is pitch black is like saying something is green. What kind of green? Green like my bottles? Green like a grasshopper? Green like a cucumber, lettuce, or green like the sky is just before it breaks loose to storm? Well, night black is the same way. May as well be a rainbow.
Green how I want you green. Green wind. Green branches.
To describe the agony of a marathon to someone who's never run it is like trying to explain color to someone who was born blind.
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