Crochet Quotes
Quotes tagged as "crochet"
Showing 1-11 of 11
“Was I starting to feel evil? Yes, now I was worrying I'd be turned to the dark side by too much crochet.”
― A Deadly Education
― A Deadly Education
“I can weave words together and create magic,it's like knitting and crocheting words with pen and paper, some call it Poetry.”
―
―
“I'm just conveying the brutality of the market to you, Katherin,' I say. That's one of my favourite lines. Good old market, always there to be blamed. "The people don't want history in their crochet books. They want cute pictures and easy instructions.”
― The Flatshare
― The Flatshare
“The last time I was on a cruise it was through the Greek islands with Justin, and I was positively glowing with love and post-sex hormones. Now, huddled in a corner with three Aldi bags of knitting needles, crochet hooks and wool, accompanied by an ex-hippy and a sardine sandwich, I can no longer deny the fact that my life has taken a turn for the worse.”
― The Flatshare
― The Flatshare
“A big stash allows me to have a fluid sense of creativity - a looseness that is very much like playing. It opens me up, unlocks things. The creative bit takes all the other pieces - the possibility, the abundance, the connections, and the actual work of making yarn - bundles them, and explodes like a glitter bomb. It gets everywhere, it makes me smile, and a I can't escape it.
My stash is the spark. Even if I haven't spun for days or weeks, even when I'm feeling dull-witted or anti-craft, I still spend time with my stash. It pulls on doors that have been locked, slides under the crack and clicks them open from the inside. After an hour tossing my fibers around, I am revitalized for making yarn, yes, but for things well beyond that, too. My sash fees like an extension of me that I sometimes forget about: the part that plays, that connects things that don't seem to go, that experiments and makes things.”
― A Stash of One's Own: Knitters on Loving, Living with, and Letting Go of Yarn
My stash is the spark. Even if I haven't spun for days or weeks, even when I'm feeling dull-witted or anti-craft, I still spend time with my stash. It pulls on doors that have been locked, slides under the crack and clicks them open from the inside. After an hour tossing my fibers around, I am revitalized for making yarn, yes, but for things well beyond that, too. My sash fees like an extension of me that I sometimes forget about: the part that plays, that connects things that don't seem to go, that experiments and makes things.”
― A Stash of One's Own: Knitters on Loving, Living with, and Letting Go of Yarn
“The problem was with the constant deliciousness of a new idea. It was always more exciting to start a new project than to plod away with one whose appeal had gone stale.”
― Tuesday Evenings with the Copeton Craft Resistance
― Tuesday Evenings with the Copeton Craft Resistance
“Sir, you have insulted me!" she cried theatrically. "I challenge you to a duel!"
"What weapons do ladies duel with?" Hugh laughed.
"Crochet hooks at dawn!”
― A Dangerous Fortune
"What weapons do ladies duel with?" Hugh laughed.
"Crochet hooks at dawn!”
― A Dangerous Fortune
“With a sweeping gesture she indicated Miss Marple. Miss Marple had finished the fleecy knitting and was now engaged with a crochet hook and a ball of cotton. "That's my expert," said Mrs. Dane Calthrop. "Jane Marple. Look at her well. I tell you, that woman knows more about the different kinds of human wickedness than anyone I've ever known.”
― The Moving Finger
― The Moving Finger
“He still had his tie on, a knitted tie with a flat bottom. It looked crocheted; it looked like a doily. Our biology master wore ties like that but George was the only boy you'd catch dead in one. He was both the oldest and youngest of us, the most fuddy-duddy and innocent, and I could see that his innocence extended to this question of sardonic intent. His poem, alas, was perfectly serious.”
― Old School
― Old School
“I make landscapes out of what I feel. I make holidays of my sensations. I can easily understand women who embroider out of sorrow or who crochet because life exists. My elderly aunt would play solitaire throughout the endless evening. These confessions of what I feel are my solitaire. I don't interpret them like those who read cards to tell the future. I don't probe them, because in solitaire the cards don't have any special significance. I unwind myself like a multicoloured skein, or I make string figures of myself, like those woven on spread fingers and passed from child to child. I only take care that my thumb not miss its loop. Then I turn over my hand and the figure changes. And I start over.”
― The Book of Disquiet
― The Book of Disquiet
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