“Since by it we reach up groping fingers to touch the hem of the garment of the Most High.”

What has been done is little-scarcely a beginning; yet it is much in comparison with the total blank of a century past.

And our knowledge will, we are easily persuaded, appear in turn the merest ignorance to those who come after us. Yet it is not to be despised, since by it we reach up groping to touch the hem of the garment of the Most High.

Knowledge will appear in turn the merest ignorance to those who come after us. Yet it is not to be despised.

Today I am in control because I want to be. I have my fingers on the switch, but have lived a lifetime ignoring the control I have over my own world. Today is different.

Fools always blame the fire when they burn their fingers.

You’re a work of art only just framed by my eager fingertips.

Your love tickles down my thighs. Let me take it with my fingers and put it on my mouth. Let me see how you taste.

I know how our fingers would interlace. Like this and that. Delicate yet determined. As porcelain scales in serene movements. Iridescent in ways our thoughts could not convey. How beautifully we are made in the ways we trace out along soft skins the words that linger within us.

He fell in love with her soul, when his fingers traced her scars.

Don’t be like a TV reacting to somebody else’s fingers on the remote control. Decide yourself when you want to be happy or sad or whatever.

Values are like fingerprints. Nobody’s are the same, but you leave ’em all over everything you do.