Cobweb Quotes
To James's intimates, however, these elaborate hesitancies, far from being an obstacle, were like a cobweb bridge flung from his mind to theirs, an invisible passage over which one knew that silver-footed ironies, veiled jokes, tiptoe malices, were stealing to explode a huge laugh at one's feet.
Edith Wharton
The time has come and fall has come so pretty...
The yellow leaves are flying over the city...
I am in love with you.
Your golden hair is flying so clear in the air.
I am in love with fall, which came with rain...
It brought the morning mists...
The days are waned...
I know the wintry wind will break her gown.
I say to fall: come back, don't let me down.
The yellow leaves are whirling in the city.
I've met my love too late, it is a pity.
At last we are together and forever.
I know well that better late than never.
The time has come and fall has come so pretty...
The yellow leaves as dreams adorned the city...
I am in love with you.
Your golden hair is flying as a cobweb in the air...
Volodymyr Melnykov
Summer fog. It leached all color and substance from the world, leaving only grays. Lead gray tombstone gray cobweb gray ash gray snot gray dust gray corpse gray. It was unheard-of that there be fog at this time of the year, late August. So it had to be another portent - as dire a one as the death of the One-Handed Warrior. There were many who said that the fog had its origin in the supercooled ashes of the hero: each molecule of his scattered body accreting water vapor, each tiny relic drawing to itself the air's own tears to fashion this wide-spreading shroud over the Many-Colored Land.
Julian May
She has always freely admitted being like a little girl in many ways, and furthermore, happily presumes she'll still be that way in her dotage. It's certainly still a factor on Aerial, both in the track "Bertie" itself and in the memories and reminiscences that cobweb some other songs. But compared to the darker corners of the mind sometimes mined in earlier songs, the new album seems a much sunnier affair: an enduring image I took away from it - not necessarily a lyric, though it might have been - was of windows flung wide open, their curtains billowing out in the breeze, a room's long-dormant dust stirred into life again.
Kate Bush
