“Nervous hands as if the fingers were dripping from them like icicles.”

“Fingers were made before forks, and hands before knives.”

“I saw the fare welling hands,
They were sickly,
When my hand
Touched her cold and long fingers
Which was from the family of the wailing reed
It gripped an eternal grief in its fist
The pen broke
And pain
Like black drops of ink
dropped on our papery hearts.
I saw the fare welling hands,
They were sickly;”

“under his dripping hair, he was as white as parchment, his hands clenched at his sides so tightly that they were shaking. It seemed clear that some terrible turmoil was ripping him apart from the inside out.”

“Or if the secret ministry of frost
Shall hang them up in silent icicles,
Quietly shining to the quiet moon.”

“My heart was beating. I got sick in my stomach and my hands were sweating — everything you feel when you are under pressure. I've been nervous before, but nothing like this.”

“Love is like quicksilver in the hand. Leave the fingers open and it stays. Clutch it and it darts away.”

“You put your hand on Corinne's back like this again and I'm breaking your fingers.”

“In terms of the Internet, it's like humanity acquiring a collective nervous system. Whereas previously we were more like a… collection of cells that communicated by diffusion. With the advent of the Internet, it was suddenly like we got a nervous system. It's a hugely impactful thing.”

“Then all this became history.
Your hand found mine.
Life rushed to my fingers like a blood clot.
Oh, my carpenter,
the fingers are rebuilt.
They dance with yours.”