There are days when I feel so lightly connected to the earth that the threads that tether me to the planet are gossamer thin, spun sugar. A strong gust of wind could dislodge me completely, and I’d lift off and blow away, like one of those seeds in a dandelion clock. The threads tighten slightly from Monday to Friday.

It may well be that the pictures of Courbet, Manet, Monet and their like contain beauties which escape the notice of such old romantic heads as ours, already streaked with silver threads

Invisible threads are the strongest ties.

Although the threads of my life have often seemed knotted, I know, by faith, that on the other side of the embroidery there is a crown.

A gentle heart is tied with an easy thread.

Friendship, like the immortality of the soul, is too good to be believed. When friendships are real, they are not glass threads or frost work but the solidest things we know.

When friendships are real, they are not glass threads or frost work, but the solidest things we can know.