Chastain Park in Atlanta is a perfect venue to see any concert, and I’ve never had a bad experience there. Of course, the concert experience is almost unrecognizable from my early years. On the positive side, it’s a scene that engenders no hesitation whatsoever about allowing children to participate. On the negative side, it’s become completely sanitized. Clothing is casual without being at all transgressive. Concessions are outrageously expensive. It’s a serious hike up to the one small area where smoking – of cigarettes – is still allowed. Next they’ll ban drinking. People in line were being told that their tables and lawn chairs didn’t meet the new measurement rules…
But live music is live music and it was a hot summer night in Atlanta. The small outdoor arena swarmed with fireflies, and the mood was hopeful. As you might expect, the Monkees drew an audience of young and old alike, but heavy on fairly well-preserved couples in their 40’s to 60’s. We stood in line with a dreamy-eyed woman in her early 40’s, escorting her two young daughters. Right next to us was a Garcia-looking dad with a Wiccan-looking wife, who had brought their enthusiastic daughter, a rare happy Goth. To one side, a small group of middle-aged women dressed young danced in moves reminiscent of the early 60’s.
At one point, John and I were doing the Twist. It wasn’t John Travolta and Uma Thurman, but it wasn’t bad (grin).
I wondered why only three of the Monkees were touring – what happened to the fourth? No need, with all that moolah from his mom’s invention of Liquid Paper? Were they going to be able to this pull it off? They had to be in their mid-sixties, and they hadn’t toured in at least a decade. I hadn’t realized that this was the first date of the tour, and I suspected that it was probably going to take them a few concerts to get back into the swing. Still – I love the Monkees, and they didn’t have to do much to meet my expectation bar.
Monkees ThenMonkees Now
I just wanted to get a good look at them, and hear my favorite songs: “(I’m Not Your) Steppin’ Stone), “She,” “Listen to the Band,” “Last Train to Clarksville,” “I’m a Believer,” “Valleri,” “Words,” “You Just May Be the One,” and “Daydream Believer.” I was also hoping they would still have that goofy feel. Davy Jones, Micky Dolenz and Peter Tork each have characteristics that I enjoy, and even without Michael Nesmith rounding out the resonant quaternary, I was hoping that it would be campy and light. The trinity, like all trinities, was unstable, but they could have compensated with some better comedy. The things they did – such as the “intervention” when Micky wouldn’t stop playing the drums – weren’t in that off-hand style that made them adorable. It’s unlikely that it was a mistake when they said “hello” to Detroit instead of Atlanta, but it went flat. Things that might seem cute and endearing when you’re young end up sounding a bit odd later. I kept thinking of that somewhat ‘off’ optimism that one sees in people like William Shatner or Ringo Starr. It didn’t help that Davy Jones is starting to look a little like Tom Jones. There was a kind of sad dreariness to it, but that’s all superficial. I was there for the happy feeling that their music gives me.
This was Ben’s first concert, and he wasn’t pleased when the concert didn’t start at 8 as advertised, but I explained that you just never know with concerts…
A big screen was up the whole time showing bits of the show, and various other video. At first I felt really happy to see these clips. At first. Then I started noticing things. There were more issues about multitudes of girls, and the evident difficulty of choosing among them, than in “Fellini’s 8-1/2.” Girls mooning, girls chasing them, girls dancing for them (even what looked like an actual harem), girls with animated shiny stars in their eyes. Even the actress that played Cat Woman on “Batman” was there! A paternalistic idealization and objectification of women, ran alongside with an undercurrent of resentment. Well, I suppose that went with the time; the show aired from 1966 to 1968. I was only a little kid and must just have seen them in reruns. I also hadn’t remembered the incorporation of advertising into the show itself. I do prefer the Monkees to that horrible Cool Aid pitcher monster, and Kellogg’s cereals must have been a better choice than some others, but it was odd.
“Valleri” was perfect, and it got the best response from the audience, too.
They used “Listen to the Band” to introduce everyone that was playing for them, and that was well-done too.
There were a couple of good songs that I hadn’t known before, and there was a special treat. I didn’t know that “Different Drum” was written by Mike Nesmith for Linda Ronstadt! I wish that I had caught the name of the woman who sang it at the concert. She was fantastic!!! Older, heavy-built, with a perfect delivery that somehow made more sense coming from an older, experienced woman. She only sang the one song, but I wished she would have done more. Please comment with her name if you have it!
Everyone knows that the Monkees were a made-up band, but they did sing some great songs. What I didn’t know was that they had some really bad songs, too. They played too many of them. Things turned bad after the intermission, and there was a run of songs that were truly tedious.
I kept waiting for Micky to remember how to use a microphone. He has a lot of style, but there is wide variation in his voice. When he was belting things out, he held the mike too close, and when he went softer, he held it too far away. Whoever was mixing needs to be told to let the voices blend more – and take advantage of the harmonies. None of these are solo singers – they work better together. The voice mikes were drowning out the band, and it was increasingly unpleasant on the sinuses. People were holding their foreheads like Felix Unger. Not since I heard Flock of Seagulls at a beach concert had I heard such bad mixing. If they would have just fixed that, we would have waited for the last part of the set.
Ben said he couldn’t take it any more, and John and I had to agree. So I don’t know if they performed the songs I was really longing to hear: “(I’m Not Your) Not Your Steppin’ Stone,” “She” and “Last Train to Clarksville.” I didn’t know if they were even going to sing them, and it wasn’t much fun anymore.
So I picked up my tee-shirt, and followed my menfolk to the car. Maybe I’ll go ahead and pick up a copy of the movie Head. I never saw it, and I’ll bet it would seem even more surreal now. Jack Nicholson? Terri Garr?
You are my avid fellow feeling. My affection curiously clings to your passionate wish.
My liking yearns to your heart. You are my wistful sympathy: my tender liking.
Yours beautifully,
M.U.C.*
Even with such a designer as Turing, it takes more than imitation-games of consciousness to write a love letter.
Still, isn’t there something about this letter that suggests our own, often inarticulate, longings?
*In this instance, MADAM preferred to call herself M.U.C. (Manchester University Computer). I know how she feels.
(Thanks to John for calling my attention to this bit of sweetness).
Little boxes on the hillside,
Little boxes made of ticky tacky,
Little boxes on the hillside,
Little boxes all the same.
There’s a green one and a pink one
And a blue one and a yellow one,
And they’re all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.
And the people in the houses
All went to the university,
Where they were put in boxes
And they came out all the same,
And there’s doctors and lawyers,
And business executives,
And they’re all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.
And they all play on the golf course
And drink their martinis dry,
And they all have pretty children
And the children go to school,
And the children go to summer camp
And then to the university,
Where they all are put in boxes
And they come out all the same.
And the boys go into business
And marry and raise a family
In boxes made of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.
There’s a green one and a pink one
And a blue one and a yellow one,
And they’re all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.
I’ve been on the other side
got my lips smacked
now they’re dry then you
call me call me in
You think I am your possession –
You’re messing with a Southern girl
But my recipe is on
With your stale bread
Yeah it’s hot but
Baby I don’t need your cash
So baby maybe I’ll let your
Big wheel turn my fantasy
Don’t you throw your shade on me
I’ve been drinking down your pain
I’m gonna turn that whiskey into rain
Wash it away
Wash it away
Wash you away boy
Let’s go
I’ve been on my knees
But you’re so hard to please
Did you take me take me in
So you are a superstar
Get off the cross
We need the wood
Somehow you will rise
But with attitude
I know honey you’re a pro
But baby I don’t need your cash
Momma got it all in hand now
Big wheel turn my fantasy
Don’t you throw that shade on me
I’ve been drinking down your pain
You go turn that whiskey into rain
Wash it away
Wash it away boy
Wash you away now
Gimme-8
Gimme-7
Gimme-6
Gimme-5
Gimme-4
Gimme-3
I-I-I am a M-I-L-F
Don’t you forget
M-I-L-F
Don’t you forget
M-I-L-F
Don’t you forget
Baby I don’t need your cash
So baby maybe I’ll let your
Big wheel turn my fantasy
Don’t you throw that shade on me
I’ve been drinking down your pain
I’m gonna turn that whiskey into rain
Big wheel turn my fantasy
Don’t you throw your shade on me
I’ve been drinking down your pain
I’m gonna turn that whiskey into rain
I’m gonna turn your whiskey
Boy into rain
Wash you away
Wash you away boy
Wash you down
Big wheel
D.H. Lawrence is most well-known for his loverly novels, but I am most fond of his book “Apocalypse.” I picked it up again when it caught my eye, patiently waiting, wedged between Bataille and Baudrillard – out of order, why? I opened it up to a random page, and found this passage. I loved it so much that I want to share it with you.
Perhaps the greatest difference between us and the pagans lies in our different relation to the cosmos. With us, all is personal. Landscape and the sky, they are to us the delicious background of our personal life, and no more. Even the universe of the scientists is little more than an extension of our personality, to us. To the pagan, landscape and personal background were on the whole indifferent. But the cosmos was a very real thing. A man lived with the cosmos, and knew it greater than himself.
Don’t let us imagine we see the sun as the old civilisations saw it. All we see is a scientific little luminary, dwindled to a ball of blazing gas. In the centuries before Ezekiel and John, the sun was still a magnificent reality, men drew forth from him strength and splendor, and gave him back homage and lustre and thanks. But in us, the connection is broken, the responsive centers are dead. Our sun is quite a different thing from the cosmic sun of the ancients, so much more trivial. We may see what we call the sun, but we have lost Helios forever. We have lost the cosmos, by coming out of responsive connection with it, and this is our chief tragedy. What is our petty little love of nature – Nature!! – compared to the ancient magnificent living with the cosmos, and being honored by the cosmos!
And some of the great images of the Apocalypse move us to strange depths, and to a strange wild fluttering of freedom: of true freedom, really, an escape to somewhere, not an escape to nowhere. An escape from the tight little cage of our universe: tight, in spite of all the astronomist’s vast and unthinkable stretches of space: tight, because it is only a continuous extension, a dreary on and on, without any meaning: an escape from this into the vital cosmos, to a sun who has a great wild life, and who looks back at us for strength or withering, marvellous, as he goes his way. Who says the sun cannot speak to me! The sun has a great blazing consciousness, and I have a little blazing consciousness. When I can strip myself of the trash of personal feelings and ideas, and get down to my naked sun-self, then the sun and I can commune by the hour, the blazing interchange, and he gives me life, sun-life, and I send him a little new brightness from the world of the bright blood. The great sun, like an angry dragon, hater of the nervous and personal consciousness in us. All these modern sunbathers must realize, for they become disintegrated by the very sun that bronzes them. But the sun, like a lion, loves the bright red blood of life, and can give it an infinite enrichment if we know how to receive it. But we don’t. We have lost the sun. And he only falls on us and destroys us, decomposing something in us: the dragon of destruction instead of the life-bringer.
And we have lost the moon, the cool, bright, ever-varying moon. It is she who would caress our nerves, smooth them with the silky hand of her glowing, soothe them into serentiy again with her cool presence. For the moon is the mistress and mother of our watery bodies, the pale body of our nervous consciousness and our moist flesh. Oh, the moon could soothe us and heal us like a cool great Artemis between her arms. But we have lost her, in our stupidity we ignore her, and angry she stares down on us and whips us with nervous whips. Oh, beware of the angry Artemis of the night heavens, beware of the spite of Cybele, beware of the vindictiveness of horned Astarte.
For the lovers who shot themselves in the night, in the horrible suicide of love, they are driven mad by the poisoned arrows of Artemis: the moon is against them: the moon is fiercely against them. And oh, if the moon is against you, oh, beware of the bitter night, especially the night of intoxication.
Now this may sound nonsense, but that is merely because we are fools. There is an eternal vital correspondence between our blood and the sun: there is an eternal vital correspondence between our nerves and the moon. If we get out of contact and harmony with the sun and the moon, then both turn into great dragons of destruction against us. The sun is a great source of blood-vitality, it streams strength to us. But once we resist the sun, and say: It is a mere ball of gas! – then the very streaming vitality of sunshine turns into subtle disintegrative force in us, and undoes us. The same with the moon, the planets, the great stars. They are either our makers or our unmakers. There is no escape.
We and the cosmos are one. The cosmos is a vast living body, of which we are still parts. The sun is a great heart whose tremors run through our smallest veins. The moon is a great gleaming nerve-centre from which we quiver forever. Who knows the power that Saturn has over us, or Venus? But it is a vital power, rippling exquisitely through us all the time. And if we deny Aldebaran, Aldebaran will pierce us with infinit dagger-thrusts. He who is not with me is against me! – that is a cosmic law.
Now all this is literally true, as men knew in the great past, and as they will know again.
By the time of John of Patmos, men, especially educated men, had already almost lost the cosmos. The sun, the moon, the planets, instead of being the communers, the comminglers, the life-givers, the splendid ones, the awful ones, had already fallen into a sort of deadness; they were the arbitrary, almost mechanical engineers of fate and destiny. By the time of Jesus, men had turned the heavens into a mechanism of fate and destiny, a prison.
The Christians escaped this prison by denying the body altogether. But alas, these little escapes! especially the escapes by denial! – they are the most fatal of evasions. Christianity and our ideal civilisation have been one long evasion. It has caused endless lying and misery, misery such as people know today, not of physical want but of a far more deadly vital want. Better lack bread than lack life. The long evasion, whose only fruit is the machine!
We have lost the cosmos. The sun strengthens us no more, neither does the moon. In mystic language, the moon is black to us, and the sun is as sackcloth.
Now we have to get back the cosmos, and it can’t be done by a trick. The great range of responses that have fallen dead in us have to come to life again. It has taken two thousand years to kill them. Who knows how long it will take to bring them to life?
When I hear modern people complain of being lonely then I know what has happened. They have lost the cosmos. – It is nothing human and personal that we are short of. What we lack is cosmic life, the sun in us and the moon in us. We can’t get the sun in us by lying naked like pigs on a beach. The very sun that is bronzing us is inwardly disintegrating us – as we know later. Process of katabolism. We can only get the sun by a sort of worship; and the same with the moon. By going forth to worship the sun, worship that is felt in the blood. Tricks and postures only make matters worse.
D.H Lawrence, Apocalypse. Viking Compass Edition, 1966, pp. 41-47. Copyright The Estate of David Herbert Lawrence, 1931.
Freedom goes hand-in-hand with mutual respect. ~ Kay Rala Xanana Gusmao
If the boy and girl walk off into the sunset hand-in-hand in the last scene, it adds 10 million to the box office. ~ George Lucas
Come away, O human child: To the waters and the wild with a fairy, hand in hand, For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand. ~ William Butler Yeats
Love Hand
I pressed my father’s hand and told him I would protect his grave with my life. My father smiled and passed away to the spirit land. ~ Chief Joseph
First time he kissed me, he but only kissed The fingers of this hand wherewith I write; And, ever since, it grew more clean and white. ~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning
When you’re special to a cat, you’re special indeed, she brings to you the gift of her preference of you, the sight of you, the sound of your voice, the touch of your hand. ~ Lester B. Pearson
When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. ~ Henri Nouwen
When all alone, a turtle will gracefully swim in the ocean. When all alone, a person will gracefully swim alone. The quiet feeling you get from a turtle reflects how a person can feel alone, until someone reaches out a hand. ~ Dan Sullivan
I remember him saying — he reached out his hand and said, ‘If I stretch my hand, will a hand come to meet me?’ He wondered if Jews would come, if Holocaust survivors would come, whether the mistrust that existed would dissolve enough for people to come in an attempt to reconcile.” ~ Gilbert Levine
“When a man loves you, you can tell by the way he touches you. His hands that have been lifting heavy objects all day turn into sensitive hands that will never hurt you.” ~ Jessica Bascom
When the sun was setting, the people brought to Jesus all who had various kinds of sickness, and laying his hands on each one, he healed them. ~ Luke 4:40
Comrade, I give you my hand, I give you my love more precious than money, I give you myself before preaching or law; Will you give me yourself? ~ Walt Whitman
I get a little warm in my heart
When I think of winter
I put my hand in my father’s glove ~ Tori Amos, “Winter”
At/To Hand
Anyone who cannot come to terms with his life while he is alive needs one hand to ward off a little his despair over his fate… but with his other hand he can note down what he sees among the ruins. ~ Franz Kafka
Only the hand that erases can write the true thing. ~ Meister Eckhart
The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it. ~ Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam
For if any man who never saw fire proved by satisfactory arguments that fire burns. His hearer’s mind would never be satisfied, nor would he avoid the fire until he put his hand in it that he might learn by experiment what argument taught. ~ Roger Bacon
A tool is usually more simple than a machine; it is generally used with the hand, whilst a machine is frequently moved by animal or steam power. ~ Charles Babbage
When in doubt, have a man come through the door with a gun in his hand. ~ Raymond Chandler
My two fingers on a typewriter have never connected with my brain. My hand on a pen does. A fountain pen, of course. Ball-point pens are only good for filling out forms on a plane. ~ Graham Greene
Real painters understand with a brush in their hand. ~ Berthe Morisot
In art, the hand can never execute anything higher than the heart can imagine. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
I am a little pencil in the hand of a writing God who is sending a love letter to the world. ~ Mother Teresa of Calcutta
When our eyes see our hands doing the work of our hearts, a circle of creation is completed inside us. The doors of our soul open and love steps forth to heal everything in sight. ~ Anne Jones
For to do things with care is the closest thing to love that I know – the cape of grace falling softly about the shoulders – as we focus on the task at hand – whether it be to listen – or to leave – or to learn. ~ Jane Siberry
In Hand
When you take a flower in your hand and really look at it, it’s your world for the moment. I want to give that world to someone else. Most people in the city rush around so, they have no time to look at a flower. I want them to see it whether they want to or not. ~ Georgia O’Keeffe
Love is like quicksilver in the hand. Leave the fingers open and it stays. Clutch it, and it darts away. ~ Dorothy Parker
Move into the vast, into the infinite, and by and by, learn to trust it. Leave yourself in the hands of life. ~ Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh
A democracy is a government in the hands of men of low birth, no property, and vulgar employment. ~ Aristotle
Then the LORD said to Joshua, “Hold out toward Ai the javelin that is in your hand, for into your hand I will deliver the city.” So Joshua held out his javelin toward Ai. ~ Joshua “Covenent Renewed” 8:18
Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you! See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands; your walls are ever before me. ~ Isaiah 49:15:16
Empty Hand
But I tell you; Come to Me with empty hands. I shall fill your hands with gifts and Grace. If your hands are full, what am I to fill them with? ~ Atharva Veda
Empty-handed I entered the world
Barefoot I leave it.
My coming, my going –
Two simple happenings
That got entangled. ~ Kozan Ichikyo
Reaching Out/Outstretched Hand
Let a joy keep you. Reach out your hands and take it when it runs by. ~ Carl Sandburg
He looked around at them all, and then said to the man, “Stretch out your hand.” He did so, and his hand was completely restored. ~ Luke 6:10
We do not raise our hands to the void for things beyond hope. ~ Rabindranath Tagore
Love is a fruit in season at all times, and in reach of every hand. ~ Mother Teresa of Calcutta
I sat down at the piano and my hands began to browse over the keys. Then something happened. I felt as though I could reach out and touch God. I found myself playing a melody, one I’d never heard or played before, and words came into my head – they just seemed to fall into place… ~ Thomas A. Dorsey
The song is called ‘Orphan Child.’ Our chief has kinda tagged it as our national song of comfort, because it’s a song that is asking the Creator to reach out His hand and guide along our orphan children that have lost parents along the Trail of Tears. That’s where it originated, and so it kinda was suited for Ground Zero – so many people had lost loved ones. So it is kind of a prayer, too. ~ Kathy Sierra
In my case Pilgrim’s Progress consisted in my having to climb down a thousand ladders until I could reach out my hand to the little clod of earth that I am. ~ Carl Jung
Moses answered, “What if they do not believe me or listen to me and say, ‘The Lord did not appear to you’?†Then the Lord said to him, “What is that in your hand?†“A staff,†he replied. The Lord said, “Throw it on the ground.†Moses threw it on the ground and it became a snake, and he ran from it. Then the Lord said to him, “Reach out your hand and take it by the tail.†So Moses reached out and took hold of the snake and it turned back into a staff in his hand. “This,†said the Lord, “is so that they may believe that the Lord, the God of their fathers — the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac and the God of Jacob — has appeared to you.†~ Exodus “Signs for Moses” 4:1-5
The LORD said to Moses, “Tell Aaron, ‘Take your staff and stretch out your hand over the waters of Egypt–over the streams and canals, over the ponds and all the reservoirs’–and they will turn to blood. Blood will be everywhere in Egypt, even in the wooden buckets and stone jars.” Exodus 7:19
Then the Lord said to Moses, “Why are you crying out to me? Tell the Israelites to move on. Raise your staff and stretch out your hand over the sea to divide the water so that the Israelites can go through the sea on dry ground. ~ Exodus 14:15-16
Upper Hand
Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people’s hats off – then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. ~ Herman Melville
There are flood and drought over the eyes and in the mouth, dead water and dead sand contending for the upper hand. The parched eviscerate soil gapes at the vanity of toil, laughs without mirth. This is the death of the earth. ~ T.S. Eliot
Many of us have this neo-Amish pattern in our use of technology, and it’s our own way to exert some sort of power over it. These gadgets are supposed to be serving us, but we have so many of them that we feel like we’re enslaved to our servants. So we create restrictions to show who’s boss. Like, I may be a slave to e-mail, but I don’t text-message, therefore I really have the upper hand. ~ Kevin Kelly
It’s funny how the hippies and the punks tried to get rid of the conservatives, but they always seem to get the upper hand in the end. ~ Bjork
Raised Hand
And on that day a great panic from the Lord shall fall on them, so that each will seize the hand of another, and the hand of the one will be raised against the hand of the other. ~ Zechariah 14:13
The hum of multitudes was there, but multitudes of lambs,
Thousands of little boys and girls raising their innocent hands. ~ William Blake
Never raise your hand to your kids. It leaves your groin unprotected. ~ Red Buttons
This is what we all raised our right hands and came into the military to do, and we just do what our country asks us to do. ~ Geoff Ward
One of the speakers asked how many women had been harassed or abused sexually in their life. There were thousands of women in the audience, and almost every one of them raised her hand. ~ Cheryl James
Handed Over
Then one of the Twelve — the one called Judas Iscariot — went to the chief priests and asked, “What are you willing to give me if I hand him over to you?†So they counted out for him thirty silver coins. From then on Judas watched for an opportunity to hand him over. Matthew, “Judas Agrees to Betray Jesus” 26:14-16
“As surely as I live,†declares the Lord, “even if you, Jehoiachinc son of Jehoiakim king of Judah, were a signet ring on my right hand, I would still pull you off. I will hand you over to those who seek your life, those you fear — to Nebuchadnezzar king of Babylon and to the Babylonians. ~ Jeremiah, “Judgment Against Evil Kings” 22:24-25
How much more severely do you think a man deserves to be punished who has trampled the Son of God under foot, who has treated as an unholy thing the blood of the covenant that sanctified him, and who has insulted the Spirit of grace? For we know him who said, “It is mine to avenge; I will repay,†and again, “The Lord will judge his people.†It is a dreadful thing to fall into the hands of the living God. ~ Hebrews, “A Call to Persevere” 10:29-31
Washed Hand
When Pilate saw that he was getting nowhere, but that instead an uproar was starting, he took water and washed his hands in front of the crowd. “I am innocent of this man’s blood,” he said. “It is your responsibility!” ~ Matthew 27:24
While washing their hands of responsibility for the rights of rural workers and indigenous peoples, the authorities are quick to respond forcefully when it comes to the demands of the wealthy landowners. ~ Javier Zuniga
If one hand washes the other, both become clean. ~ Dutch Proverb
He’s just, your cousin, ay, abhorrently; He’d wash his hands in blood, to keep them clean. ~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning
As falls the dew on quenchless sands, blood only serves to wash ambition’s hands. ~ Lord Byron
Washing one’s hands of the conflict between the powerful and the powerless means to side with the powerful, not to be neutral. ~ Paulo Freire
Writing is not necessarily something to be ashamed of, but do it in private and wash your hands afterwards. ~ Robert A. Heinlein
Then the Lord said to Moses, “Make a bronze basin, with its bronze stand, for washing. Place it between the Tent of Meeting and the altar, and put water in it. Aaron and his sons are to wash their hands and feet with water from it. Whenever they enter the Tent of Meeting, they shall wash with water so that they will not die. Also, when they approach the altar to minister by presenting an offering made to the Lord by fire, they shall wash their hands and feet so that they will not die. This is to be a lasting ordinance for Aaron and his descendants for the generations to come.†Exodus, “Basin for Washing” 30:17-21
After coming into contact with a religious man I always feel I must wash my hands. ~ Friedrich Nietzsche
I wash my hands of those who imagine chattering to be knowledge, silence to be ignorance, and affectation to be art. ~ Kahlil Gibran
Split Consciousness Hand
Everything vanishes around me, and works are born as if out of the void. Ripe, graphic fruits fall off. My hand has become the obedient instrument of a remote will. ~ Paul Klee
If your hand or your foot causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away. It is better for you to enter life maimed or crippled than to have two hands or two feet and be thrown into eternal fire. ~ Matthew 18:8
It was on my fifth birthday that Papa put his hand on my shoulder and said, “Remember, my son, if you ever need a helping hand, you’ll find one at the end of your arm.” ~ Sam Levenson
How many people here have telekenetic powers? Raise my hand. ~ Emo Philips
From my perspective, it’s kind of like one hand clapping. We’d love to have a dialogue, but there needs to be someone to have a dialogue with. ~ Maria Foscarinis
Left Hand, Right Hand
Light is the left hand of darkness
and darkness the right hand of light.
Two are one, life and death, lying
together like lovers in kemmer,
like hands joined together,
like the end and the way.
~ Ursula K. Le Guin
Reason is our soul’s left hand, faith her right, by these we reach divinity. ~ Donne, John
Spiritual love is a position of standing with one hand extended into the universe and one hand extended into the world, letting ourselves be a conduit for passing energy. ~ Christina Baldwin
So when you give to the needy, do not announce it with trumpets, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and on the streets, to be honored by men. I tell you the truth, they have received their reward in full. But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you. ~ Mattew 6:2-4
But Nineveh has more than a hundred and twenty thousand people who cannot tell their right hand from their left (i.e., living in spiritual darkness), and many cattle as well. Should I not be concerned about that great city? ~ Jonah 4:11
Blessed is the man who finds wisdom, the man who gains understanding, for she is more profitable than silver and yields better returns than gold. She is more precious than rubies; nothing you desire can compare with her. Long life is in her right hand; in her left hand are riches and honor. Her ways are pleasant ways, and all her paths are peace. She is a tree of life to those who embrace her; those who lay hold of her will be blessed. ~ Proverbs 3:13-18
Like an apple tree among the trees of the forest is my lover among the young men. I delight to sit in his shade, and his fruit is sweet to my taste. He has taken me to the banquet hall, and his banner over me is love. Strengthen me with raisins, refresh me with apples, for I am faint with love. His left arm is under my head, and his right arm embraces me. ~ Song of Solomon, “Beloved” 2:3-6
On the Other Hand
The last time I saw him he was walking down lover’s lane holding his own hand. ~ Fred Allen
On the other hand, you have different fingers.~ Steven Wright
You want to fall in love with a shoe, go ahead. A shoe can’t love you back, but, on the other hand, a shoe can’t hurt you too deeply either. And there are so many nice-looking shoes. ~ Allan Sherman
Art produces ugly things which frequently become more beautiful with time. Fashion, on the other hand, produces beautiful things which always become ugly with time. ~ Jean Cocteau
I came from a real tough neighborhood. I put my hand in some cement and felt another hand. ~ Rodney Dangerfield
On one hand, we have beauty and love, and on the other hand we have to take the garbage out once a week. ~ Jon Thompson
It is an essential part of the interpretive work that it should keep in step with fluctuations between love and hatred, between happiness and satisfaction on the one hand and persecutory anxiety and depression on the other. ~ Melanie Klein
On the other hand, what I like my music to do to me is awaken the ghosts inside of me. Not the demons, you understand, but the ghosts. ~ David Bowie
