Quotes about Weaving

Then Delilah said to Samson, “You have mocked me and lied to me all along! Tell me how you can be tied up.” He told her, “If you weave the seven braids of my head into the web of a loom and tighten it with a pin, I will become as weak as any other man.”

He made the veil of blue, purple, and crimson yarn and fine linen, with cherubim woven into it.

My days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle; they come to an end without hope.

My dwelling has been picked up and removed from me like a shepherd’s tent. I have rolled up my life like a weaver; He cuts me off from the loom; from day until night You make an end of me.

Hammered silver is brought from Tarshish, and gold from Uphaz—the work of a craftsman from the hands of a goldsmith. Their clothes are blue and purple, all fashioned by skilled workers.

My life is but a weaving, between my God and me, I do not choose the colors, He worketh steadily, Oftimes He weaveth sorrow, and I in foolish pride, Forget He sees the upper, and I the under side. Not till the loom is silent, and shuttles cease to fly, Will God unroll the canvas and explain the reason why. The dark threads are as needful in the skillful Weaver's hand, As the threads of gold and silver in the pattern He has planned. (Anonymous)

Only heaven will reveal the top side of God's tapestry.

I do regard spinning and weaving as a necessary part of any national system of education.

Was it actually her destiny to go on weaving herself into his life all the rest of her life? Nothing else? Was it just that? She was to be content to weave a steady life with him, all one fabric, but perhaps brocaded with the occasional lower of an adventure. But how could she know what she would feel next year? How could one ever know? How could one say Yes? for years and years? The little yes, gone on a breath! Why should one be pinned down by that butterfly word?

We sleep, but the loom of life never stops, and the pattern which was weaving when the sun went down is weaving when it comes up in the morning.

It's a thread in a tapestry.

How intricate were the stitches with which God was weaving the tapestry of her life. And how often did the blessings therein exact a price more dear, and further reaching, than she would ever comprehend this side of eternity.