Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Velvet. 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 Velvet Quotes And Sayings by 98 Authors including Oscar De La Renta,Herman Melville,Terry Pratchett,Azzedine Alaia,David Eddings for you to enjoy and share.
Silk does for the body what diamonds do for the hand.
It is the horrible texture of a fabric that should be woven of ships' cables and hawsers. A Polar wind blows through it, and birds of prey hover over it.
Carding's robe, for example, had become a silk and lace convection of overpoweringly expensive tastelessness, and gave him the appearance of a big red jelly draped with antimacassars.
'It suits me, don't you think?
There is a sensuality about fabric. I think all materials should be inviting when they touch the skin. When I watch children stroking their mother's clothes, I feel that I have succeeded.
Trust me. - Silk
That translucent alabaster of our memories.
Kindness is the velvet of social intercourse.
That makes me think of spandex-covered football players. It's not me. I'm in rhinestones and velvet, not spandex.
And even this heart of mine has something artificial. The dancers have sewn it into a bag of pink satin, pink satin slightly faded, like their dancing shoes.
She's well acquainted with the touch of the velvet hand like a lizard on the window-pane.
Irish lace, hanging in the windows, filters the afternoon light, softening the lines on her face.
Tangle me up like Grandma's yarn,
Leather and lace is such a sexy combination.
Her voice is furry and sharp, like a blanket made of needles.
Fall the deep curtains,
delicate the weave,
fair the thread.
Most of the passenger cars are lined with thick patterned carpets, upholstered in velvets in burgundies and violets and creams, as though they have been dipped in a sunset, hovering at twilight and holding on to the colors before they fade to midnight and stars.
Chamfron. Crimson silk draped his hindquarters,
Are you rage, wrapped in skin, tight like leather dried in the desert sun?
From: "The Comfort of Black
Rippling, rippling, rippling, like a flapping overlapping of soft flames, soft as feathers, running to points of brilliance, exquisite, exquisite and melting her all molten inside.
Dark chocolate, poured over velvet: that was how his voice tasted. I wanted him to follow me around and narrate the rest of my life.
All feminine claws, he said to himself, are sheathed in velvet; but they can hurt a good deal if they touch you on the sore places of the defects of your qualities
even merely with the velvet.
What is sweeter than lettered ease?
What was the point in satin and lace if it didn't make a man struggle to speak?
There was a lightness to the material that she loved but that also made her feel vulnerable, and she wondered which was more dangerous - the transparency of a fabric or of the soul?
ROPE, n. An obsolescent appliance for reminding assassins that they too are mortal. It is put about the neck and remains in place one's whole life long.
Feeling is chocolate plus the
dry texture of a wolfskin
on which we sparawled by cosy gas
while mother unravelled
ivory knots of Chopin.
Claire coaxed free another loop of cloth. The slow side of cotton against cotton matched the soft tenor or her voice.
'I have lots of talents Mr. Ryland. Listening is only one of them.
Call me old-fashioned, but whenever I see those wire-fortified ribbons, I have the secret stab of nostalgia for old-timey ribbon, the kind whose ends flop like spaniel ears. I'm suspicious of unnaturally perky ribbon.
In a blur of white satin and lace, Louisa Marie Honeycutt dove into the waiting limousine, slid across the expansive leather seat, then with a furtive look out the tinted window,
I feel best in soft and natural materials such as cotton and silk. I wear collections from all designers. They all have outstanding cuts and extremely pleasant materials.
She's chiffon and satin ribbons. I'm raw meat and razor blades.
The dress of Virtue, in our parts, was cotton print. I had silk.
Gold wrapped old crap.
The woman at the next table is making eyes at you," Lanie said, whispering conspiratorially.
"Really? What does she make them out of? Cloth?
I'm a little bit of a fabric lunatic.
You hated my rainbows, now you don't like my leather. Is there anything you like on me?
And how to paint your lovely hands, fluttering over the silks like two dark birds?
Domestic interior design is a fraught affair. It makes me hanker for the mild and soothing and tasteless red velvet interiors in which people lived so undiscriminatingly no more than twenty years ago. It was unhygienic, dark, cool, probably stuffed full of dangerous bacteria, and pleasant.
She was as inept at causing pain as she was at giving pleasure. Strange lioness, indeed! She thought she possessed claws, but when she tried to bare them, nothing emerged from her magnificent velvet paws. Her scratches were of velvet!
My fur is silky, damn it.
Does Raggedy Ann have a cotton crotch?
...linen is a fabric that wrinkles like Jack Nicholson's balls without Botox.
Look deep into my soul than what stretches the fabric of my clothes
I love the feel of good quality Italian black lace that feels delicate and really feminine.
To borrow from the writings of a spider named Charlotte: 'Silk is terrific!'
It was needlepoint, Mr. Burke. Tapestries are woven, you see, and I find it far more satisfying to stab than to weave.
I came from rainbow fabric; I drank textile ink as mothers' milk. I learned to sew before I could walk. I could never become a nun, purely because of the boring fashion choices.
Ropes of silver gliding from sunny thunder into freshness.
What kind of tartan is this?" he said as he felt the fabric. "McCloud," Betty told him. "Welcome to the clan, son." Excellent, thought Lake. There would be no getting rid of her now.
When it came to fabric, she was obsessed by the touch, color, and the promise that it held. Some
Let me just tell you this: I love polyester.
Clara wore a dress of brown and cream velvet, and her feathered mask, in comparison, made her look like a sparrow
Hanging softly over the black Singer sewing machine, it looked like magic, and when people saw me wearing it they were going to run up to me and say, "Marguerite, forgive us, please, we didn't know who you were," and I would answer generously, "No, you couldn't have known. Of course I forgive you.
thin materials, or in conjunction with flat stitch. Twisted knot
Belt leather. Black pepper. Fine lace and bright feather. Tinker in town tonight, gone tomorrow. Working through the evening light. Come wife. Come daughter, I've small cloth and rose water.
What a richly colored strong warm coat is woven when love is the warp and work is the woof.
God, the Master Weaver. He stretches the yarn and intertwines the colors, the ragged twine with the velvet strings, the pains with the pleasures. Nothing escapes his reach.
Damn it, the tiger played velvet paws with me, didn't he?
Deep downy upholstery is absolutely what I've always been about.
Concurring hands divide
flax for damask
that when bleached by Irish weather
has the silvered chamois-leather
water-tightness of a
skin.
Wine it is the milk of Venus, And the poet's horse accounted: Ply it and you all are mounted.
Caress the detail, the divine detail.
I love playing around with vintage fabrics and lace.
duct tape - real
The eye's perception of texture is pale compared to the lips', and I didn't know what velvety was until I knew it with my lips. Oh, kissing. Oh, violin boy.
coat that she always
She tangled her words
like matted fishing lines
Love comforts, it is gentle, it is warm and you can feel it within your entire being.
I am good at keeping secrets. I am wrapped in them now, the way I am wrapped in lies, like my sweater, clinging tightly to my skin, even on the hottest of days.
A thistle grows about here which has needles on it that would pierce through leather, I think; if one touches you, you can find relief in nothing but profanity.
If you have a tendency to find yourself in MacGyveresque situations, go ahead and choose a synthetic rope to craft with. I don't want you cursing my name as you hang from a cliff by your swiftly fraying Monkey's Fist necklace.
A pair of brilliantly cut cotton trousers can be more beautiful than a gorgeous silk gown ...
What comfort there is in the skin of someone you love!
Secluded in her living room, the midday sun dimmed by long, burgundy drapes - the soft velvet cloth a steal on EBay - Circe watches the soapies on her plasma screen TV. Her elegant fingers deliver fine chocolates to her perfect lips. Her divine green eyes are dull, her expression glazed.
Sewn together patterns,
like many clashing moods,
She wears what
No others dare
His cloak was his crowning glory; sable, thick and black and soft as sin.
The clothes felt like something more: fine chain-mail armor handmade to fit me, or robes laid out ready for some fiercely secret ceremony. They made my palms tingle when I touched them.
linen slipcovers, was as white as whole milk.
All any girl needs, at any time in history, is simple velvet and basic diamonds.
Something soft and wild and free, something that whispered to the ear on the pillow, lightened the heart, softly, softly picked the lock, slid the bolts, and released the prisoned spirit of man into the wind, into the blue and gold, into the morning, into the morning!
Many strong emotions are actually intricate tapestries woven of various strands.
The softness of the summer day like an ermine paw.
It was hard to let go of love. Once woven, its ribbon was hard to tear, and this one she'd woven quite firmly herself.
Where would I find enough leather
To cover the entire surface of the earth?
But with leather soles beneath my feet,
It's as if the whole world has been covered.
I'm tired of sackcloth and
Promises are lies wrapped in pretty ribbons -Cinnamon
With their souls of patent leather, they come down the road. Hunched and nocturnal, where they breathe they impose, silence of dark rubber, and fear of fine sand.
Like faint flowers in the diaphonous fabrics of the twenties: beautiful, trivial fabrics so flimsy they could not hope to last?
a furtive groove
Swatches of color to close the wounds. Lines to tie it down. Layers upon layers, until the sound of their voices formed a hum.
Three hundred pages of cotton-soft parchment, bound up with a green ribbon. Her writing gushed in watery ripples over the pages, penmanship that called to mind the maddest intricate Belgian lace. Wrought on a pin's head but stretching for miles if unraveled.
Fine artists deal with finery, but I deal with painful material.
There is lace in every living thing: the bare branches of winter, the patterns of clouds, the surface of water as it ripples in the breeze ... Even a wild dog's matted fur shows a lacy pattern if you look at it closely enough.
The cunning livery of hell.
It feels almost soft, like something to be caressed. Only gold feels that way.
All this talk of folds and rods and buttons. Are we copulating or sewing draperies?
I keep wondering if it'll ever hurt less. This...this hole in our lives." "Oh, I imagine it'll hurt less eventually. I think there will always be a hole, though. But lace is one of the most beautiful fabrics, you know. All those holes and gaps, but it's still complete somehow- still lovely.
Millions of shining lights, silver nails driven into a dome of dark blue velvet . . .
You should see me work my magic in leather
Ranger
One day, a new fabric appeared on the scene. PVC was shiny, waterproof, and unlike anything I'd ever seen before.