#hand

There are still things I want to do but they're not necessary for me to do. I'm not clinging to anything that I can't open my hands and let go. ↗

— Morris West

#clinging #go #hands #i #let go

What connects two thousand years of genocide? Too much power in too few hands. ↗

— Simon Wiesenthal

#few #genocide #hands #much #power

We're on our way to Greece, in the hands of a confused, foolish government. It's got to stop. It's got to stop. ↗

— Steve Wynn

#foolish #got #government #greece #hands

I will be developing artists for my new label. The rest is in God's Hands. ↗

— Gary Wright

#developing #god #hands #i #label

I have always believed that opera is a planet where the muses work together, join hands and celebrate all the arts. ↗

— Franco Zeffirelli

#arts #believed #celebrate #hands #i

There are a lot of people who influenced me, nurtured me, helped me along the way. But I can just recall looking back, the first time I got my baseball glove. Put it on the wrong hand, all those kind of things. ↗

— Dave Winfield

#back #baseball #first #first time #glove

A human being's first responsibility is to shake hands with himself. ↗

— Henry Winkler

#first #hands #himself #human #responsibility

I deal with first-hand sources. And give the people, even John Sununu, the opportunity to respond to what I've been told by first-hand sources. ↗

— Bob Woodward

#deal #even #first-hand #give #i

Nothing is a masterpiece - a real masterpiece - till it's about two hundred years old. A picture is like a tree or a church, you've got to let it grow into a masterpiece. Same with a poem or a new religion. They begin as a lot of funny words. Nobody knows whether they're all nonsense or a gift from heaven. And the only people who think anything of 'em are a lot of cranks or crackpots, or poor devils who don't know enough to know anything. Look at Christianity. Just a lot of floating seeds to start with, all sorts of seeds. It was a long time before one of them grew into a tree big enough to kill the rest and keep the rain off. And it's only when the tree has been cut into planks and built into a house and the house has got pretty old and about fifty generations of ordinary lumpheads who don't know a work of art from a public convenience, have been knocking nails in the kitchen beams to hang hams on, and screwing hooks in the walls for whips and guns and photographs and calendars and measuring the children on the window frames and chopping out a new cupboard under the stairs to keep the cheese and murdering their wives in the back room and burying them under the cellar flags, that it begins even to feel like a religion. And when the whole place is full of dry rot and ghosts and old bones and the shelves are breaking down with old wormy books that no one could read if they tried, and the attic floors are bulging through the servants' ceilings with old trunks and top-boots and gasoliers and dressmaker's dummies and ball frocks and dolls-houses and pony saddles and blunderbusses and parrot cages and uniforms and love letters and jugs without handles and bridal pots decorated with forget-me-nots and a piece out at the bottom, that it grows into a real old faith, a masterpiece which people can really get something out of, each for himself. And then, of course, everybody keeps on saying that it ought to be pulled down at once, because it's an insanitary nuisance. ↗

— Joyce Cary

#blunderbusses #christianity #crackpots #cranks #dry-rot

I wash my hands of those who imagine chattering to be knowledge, silence to be ignorance, and affection to be art. ↗

— Khalil Gibran

#art #chattering #hands #i #ignorance