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"Some people weave burlap into the fabric of our lives, and some weave gold thread. Both contribute to make the whole picture beautiful and unique." »Anonymous
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"Man did not weave the web of life, he is merely a strand in it. Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself." »Chief Seattle
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"Oh, what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to believe." »Laurence J. Peter
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"Oh, what a tangled web we weave, When first we practice to deceive" »Sir Walter Scott
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"Oh what a tangled web we weave,
When first we practise to deceive!" »Sir Walter Scott, Marmion, Canto vi. Stanza 17.
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"Oh, what a tangled web do parents weave When they think that their children are nave." »Ogden Nash
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"Oh, the tangled webs we weave When we practice to deceive." »Sir Walter Scott
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"Oh, what tangled webs we weave, When we first practice to deceive." »Sir Walter Scott
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"Christmas--that magic blanket that wraps itself about us, that something so intangible that it is like a fragrance. It may weave a spell of nostalgia. Christmas may be a day of feasting, or of prayer, but always it will be a day of remembrance--a day in which we think of everything we have ever loved." »Augusta E. Rundell
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"Whatever befalls the earth befalls the sons and daughters of the earth. We did not weave the web of life We are merely a strand in it. What we do with the web, we do to ourselves..." »Chief Seattle
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"My friends and my road-fellows, pity the nation that is full of beliefs and empty of religion. Pity the nation that wears a cloth it does not weave, eats a bread it does not harvest, and drinks a wine that flows not from its own winepress. Pity the nation that acclaims the bully as hero, and that deems the glittering conqueror bountiful. Pity the nation that raises not its voice save when it walks in a funeral, boasts not except among its ruins, and will rebel not save when its neck is laid between the sword and the block. Pity the nation whose statesman is a fox, whose philosopher is a juggler, and whose art is the art of patching and mimicking. Pity the nation that welcomes its new ruler with trumpetings, and farewells him with hootings, only to welcome another with trumpetings again. Pity the nation divided into fragments, each fragment deeming itself a nation." »Kahlil Gibran
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