A Quote by Dorothy Parker
Love is like quicksilver in the hand. Leave the fingers open and it stays. Clutch it and it darts away.
Related Quotes
Love is like quicksilver in the hand.
Darts should definitely be in the Olympic Games. Can you tell me any difference between archery and darts or shooting and darts? It's a very similar concept and both of those are in the Olympic Games. And don't forget that darts is also a hugely popular sport.
He wound the scarf around his fingers until her hand was hanging in the space between them. Then he slid the silk and his fingers into her open palm. And Eleanor disintegrated.
The past stays on you the way powdered sugar stays on your fingers. Some people can get rid of it but it’s still there, the events and things that pushed you to where you are now.
Universal love is a glove without fingers, which fits all bands alike and none closely; but true affection is like a glove with fingers, which fits one hand only, and sits close to that one.
Letting go. Everyone talks about it like it's the easiest thing. Unfurl your fingers one by one until your hand is open.
It's hard to let go anything we love. We live in a world which teaches us to clutch. But when we clutch we're left with a fistful of ashes.
A dog — a dog teaches us so much about love. Wordless, imperfect love; love that is constant, love that is simple goodness, love that forgives not only bad singing and embarrassments, but misunderstandings and harsh words. Love that sits and stays and stays and stays, until it finally becomes its own forever. Love, stronger than death. A dog is a four-legged reminder that love comes and time passes and then your heart breaks.
Then all this became history. Your hand found mine. Life rushed to my fingers like a blood clot. Oh, my carpenter, the fingers are rebuilt. They dance with yours.
In 1987 I got dartitis, a psychological condition which means you can't let your darts go properly. For a time, I wondered what the hell I was going to do if I didn't recover. But I remained positive and, thankfully, got over it. It occurred during the Swedish Open when I found I couldn't let the darts go.
You could count on the fingers of one hand the number of people in the north who said to me, 'When did you leave the IRA?'
In middle school, one day this girl was like, 'One day you wore Abercrombie, and one day you wore Quicksilver.' I was like, 'Hold on... what?' I'm usually really calm, but I kind of went off on her. Because I decided to wear Quicksilver one day, you can't place me? How stupid to have to live inside that box.
As my father [Jav?harl?l Nehr?] said, you have to keep an open mind, but you have to pour something into it - otherwise ideas slip away like sand between your fingers.
I think a responsibility comes with notoriety, but I never think of it as power. It's more like something you hold, like grains of sand. If you keep your hand closed, you can have it and possess it, but if you open your fingers in any way, you can lose it just as quickly.
I kept the fingers of my left hand crossed all the time, while on my right-hand fingers I counted anything at all—steps to the refrigerator, seconds on the clock, words in a sentence—to keep my head occupied. The counting felt like something to hang on to, as if finding the right numbers might somehow crack the code on whatever system ran the slippery universe we were moving through.
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.
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