Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Appendages. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Appendages Quotes And Sayings by 96 Authors including William Carlos Williams,Anton Chekhov,Nancy Willard,Tracy Chapman,Willa Cather for you to enjoy and share.
In description words adhere to certain objects, and have the effect on the sense of oysters, or barnacles.
Eyes - the head's chief of police. They watch and make mental notes.
The skin of moss / holds the footprints of / star-footed birds.
Who took away the part so essential to the whole Left you a hollow body Skin and bone.
The irregular and intimate quality of things made entirely by the human hand.
Knees, but they evaporated as the boat picked
Something breaks under my boot, and I know before I look down what I'll see. Bones. Human skulls, femurs, ribs. The bones of otherthings as well, things that starved once the humans rotted away. Twisted spines, elongated jaws. Teeth.
The grasp of objects that bind us to some betokening.
In a cabinet of natural history, we become sensible of a certain occult recognition and sympathy in regard to the most unwieldy and eccentric forms of beast, fish, and insect.
Maybe my limbs are made
mostly for decoration,
like the way I feel about
persimmons.
He stood and inhaled, then walked a few more feet, stooped, and prodded a chunk of rabbit fur.
"I'm definitely thinking something with more body parts," I said. "Like a head."
He gave a snort of a laugh. "It's probably around here somewhere, but I suppose you want the parts attached, too.
Body parts telegraphed complaints from faraway places.
My belly button is undeniable, visual proof that I'm not a separate organism, but that I am connected with the Source of life.
All human things Of dearest value hang on slender strings.
Cut off my head, and singular I am, Cut off my tail, and plural I appear; Although my middle's left, there's nothing there! What is my head cut off? A sounding sea; What is my tail cut off? A rushing river; And in their mingling depths I fearless play, Parent of sweetest sounds, yet mute forever.
Someone severed the link between my brain and my fingers.
Legs: the symbol of my solitude, my individual path, my uniqueness. Arms: the symbol of togetherness, my connection to others, my belonging to the human race. My legs make me who I am; they create my solitary path. My arms make me who I belong to; they connect me to the world.
I am a brain, Watson. The rest of me is a mere appendix.
The things that link us deepest, we can't feel.
Except if they're taken from us.
somethingological
A brain of feathers, and a heart of lead.
Arms and the man
Soul. I suppose it was an apt description. The unseen force that guides the body.
*Appendix usually means "small outgrowth from large intestine," but in this case it means "additional information accompanying main text." Or are those really the same things? Think carefully before you insult this book.
Anchor points. You can't escape them... And maybe you shouldn't.
Everything is octopusied.
Little jointed stringy things the shape of tadpoles drifted across his vision. He had to keep blinking his eyes to get rid of them, but soon they drifted back.
Daggers. Never leave home without them.
Tug on anything in nature and you will find it connected to everything else.
in coat, heart, body, and brain;
Art in its widest sense is the extension of the personality: a host of artificial limbs.
The fairy tale about the people who freely detach and re-attach appendages still inspires Sam. He remembers the character who interchanged his earlobes and testicles so he could acutely hear his ejaculations and enjoy a tightening at the side of his head whenever the weather got cold.
two orbs of flesh?
Agreements. Specifically, a treaty ratified by all the orders of whimsical like forms who dwell here that affords a measure of security for mortal caretakers. In a world where mortal man has become the dominant force, most creatures of enchantment have fled to refuges like this one.
The fact that three-fifths of an octopus' neurons are not in their brain, but in their arms, suggests that each arm has a mind of its own.
I have the backbone of an eel.
Muscles I know; they are my friends. But I have forgotten their names.
O that these folding arms might ne'er undo!
Scrolls, notebooks, tablet computers, daggers, and a large bowl filled with jelly beans,
Lost things. They claw through the membranes, attempting to summon our attention through an indecipherable mayday. Words tumble in helpless disorder. The dead speak. We have forgotten how to listen.
The strings that bind you tight to the map of your life,
Anomalocaridids seemed to lack front limbs, being an arthropod - being a joint-legged animal - and not having legs, it's kind of embarrassing.
Whiskers of the cat, Webbed toes on my swimming dog; God is in the details.
What use legs if not to take you down the road? What use eyes if not to see what lay beyond the horizon? What use hands if not to open doors?
When the narrator feels like an octopus, when he says his limbs are starting to multiply, he means he has inklings of orders of perception beyond his individual body.
All the tools and engines on earth are only extensions of man's limbs and senses.
Our limbs which had already traveled far beyond her world, carrying the click of distances in the smooth, untroubled soles of their shoes.
The body is a rock; the arms are snakes
What has 32 legs and 1 tooth?'
What?' we all asked.
A West Virginia unemployment line.
Bodies, again,
Are partly primal germs of things, and partly
Unions deriving from the primal germs.
Some people think their fingers are toes or claws, but they're actually finger bones.
Whole monstrosity growing more huge and throwing out new and more awful tentacles every day.
What's twelve inches long and hangs in front on ass, Mankind's tie.
I have 2 weapons; my arms, my legs and my brain.
The arm that carries the data. That's your wing.
I that was near your heart was removed therefrom
Fingers interlocked like a beautiful accordion of flesh or a zipper of prayer
leg in an amputee. Over the centuries, medical treatment had become quite adept at fixing parts of the body that were broken: a shattered bone, or even a shattered mind;
But when I look in the basin, among the curdlike blood clots, I see and elfin thorax, attentuated, its pencilline ribs all in parallel rows with tiny knobs of spine rounding upwards. A translucent arm and hand swim beside.
Your soul, your spirit and your body.
Someone's magic was cleaving.
Mechanism! Everywhere
mechanism! Devices for getting away from life so complete that there seemed no life to get away from.
The only parts left of my original body are my elbows.
A cord that remains, always. in many ways...
Brains. Hearts. Lungs. Eyes. All pickled in some kind of home-brewed formaldehyde,
Little things that run the world
In merest prudence men should teach ...
That science ranks as monstrous things
Two pairs of upper limbs; so wings
E'en Angel's wings!
are fictions.
What a lot of things there are a man can do without.
All organs of an animal form a single system, the parts of which hang together, and act and re-act upon one another; and no modifications can appear in one part without bringing about corresponding modifications in all the rest.
It's a four-letter word for a part of the human anatomy but it's not m-i-n-d.
I have two secret weapons
my legs, my arms and my brain.
Beastly things, teeth. Give us trouble from the cradle to the grave.
These Atlantikoinonia. They're human? (Acheron)
What else would they be? Turnips? (Tory)
The human body is a magazine of inventions, the patent office, where are the models from which every hint is taken. All the tools and engines on earth are only extensions of its limbs and senses.
A knife. A silver knife, like the one that had cut out Alice's heart.
He'd swiftly collected those monsters' heads, tying them together with a piece of the rope she'd hoped never to see again, then strung them over his shoulder. Periodically, he offered his catch to her.
"No, no, I have a pair just like them at home," she'd said. "I would just regift them.
The things that mount the rostrum with a skip, And then skip down again, pronounce a text, Cry hem; and reading what they never wrote Just fifteen minutes, huddle up their work, And with a well-bred whisper close the scene!
The missing piece my breath my heart my memory me the other half the missing half
But the feeling of a limb as a sensory and motor part of oneself seems to be innate, built-in, hardwired - and this supposition is supported by the fact that people born without limbs may nonetheless have vivid phantoms in their place.4
An exquisite dulcet epithalame of most mollificative suadency for juveniles amatory whom the odoriferous flambeaus of the paranymphs have escorted to the quadrupedal proscenium of connubial communion.
Penis? Cock? Dick? Wood? Schlong? Womb broom? Clam hammer? Yogurt slinger?
Behind them, attached to the harness, was a
[Insects] are not only cold-blooded, and green- and yellow-blooded, but are also cased in a clacking horn. They have rigid eyes and brains strung down their backs. But they make up the bulk of our comrades-at-life, so I look to them for a glimmer of companionship.
We pray with our hands and often communicate with them. We use them to eat, work, and make love. We employ them as marvelously sophisticated instruments of flexibility and strength, and when they are damaged, we anguish.
dentition and witch-like pointed features.
My
soul, the mythical part of humans that the angels cared
about.
Flesh on the outside, metal on the inside.
Chains of iron or of silk-both are chains.
You might call them the icing on "life's cake," but music, laughter and the enjoyment of eating are the toppings that flavor everyday living. These added accents or accessories do spice up the cake. If served without, life would be rather bland!
The flesh and bone leg is just beautiful. It's elegant. You know, when it's working, it's incredible. But if it's not working, well, you know, your life is certainly far from over.
Our body parts were the trademark, we believed, of a sacred, majestic people. Now the ugliness of our situation made us begin to loathe the body we'd once loved. It was a gradual occurrence at first, more a thought than a truth, but we knew that once planted, a seed soon reveals all that it bears.
These hands which stretch out, implore, beg, then rise to the head in a gesture of calamity.
strange, spiky pieces of
A pair of legs engineered to defy the laws of physics and a mindset to master the most epic of splits.
The masks. that men have as faces, the outward shells they hold up for others to see while their minds shift in hidden directions. Discard 2
Soul of fibre and heart of oak.
It had a sort of a head on it, like a mushroom, and its color was reddish purple. It looked blunt and stupid, compared, say, to fingers and toes with their intelligent expressiveness, or even to an elbow or a knee.
What falls but never breaks; what breaks but never falls?
The skin was not skin at all, but bone. Ectoskeleton.
Lungs but could, conceivably, struggle along indefinitely