ŷ������

“We stitch together quilts of meaning to keep us warm and safe, with whatever patches of beauty and utility we have on hand.”
― Anne Lamott

“It tugs at me, filling me with the kind of seasick nostalgia that can hit you in the gut when you find an old concert ticket in your purse or an old coin machine ring you got down at the boardwalk on a day when you went searching for mermaids in the surf with your best friend.

That punch of nostalgia hits me now and I start to sink down on the sky-coloured quilt, feeling the nubby fabric under my fingers, familiar as the topography of my hand.”
― Brenna Ehrlich, Placid Girl

“In your life, the people become like a patchwork quilt. Some leave with you a piece that is bigger than you wanted and others smaller than you thought you needed. Some are that annoying itchy square in the corner, and others that piece of worn flannel. You leave pieces with some and they leave their pieces with you. All the while each and every square makes up a part of what is you. Be okay with the squares people leave you. For life is too short to expect from people what they do not have to give, or were not called to give you.”
― Anna M. Aquino

“I do NOT like patchwork,�� said Anne dolefully, hunting out her workbasket and sitting down before a little heap of red and white diamonds with a sigh. “I think some kinds of sewing would be nice; but there’s no scope for imagination in patchwork. It’s just one little seam after another and you never seem to be getting anywhere. But of course I’d rather be Anne of Green Gables sewing patchwork than Anne of any other place with nothing to do but play.”
― L.M. Montgomery

“Tom lived by the sea. In a small blue house that was from another time. It was squeaky and drafty and held one of my favorite places in the entire world: a big old chair by a front window and a fireplace, from which could be seen a view of the North Sea while one lounged, under a quilt preferably, and read book after book.”
― Paige Shelton, The Cracked Spine

“A plain, brown paper-wrapped package came in the mail recently. Upon opening it, I saw that it was a patchwork quilt about four feet by five feet. Many little scraps of cloth, carefully joined by loving hands. Two squares have suggestions of a black cassock and Roman white collar. The maker of the quilt states, “In its variety, I feel it denotes confusion and the world “mixed�� up. There are dark spots for the dark times and bright squares, so, hopefully, some good and brightness will come in the future. The other pieces of cloth were of happy times, mothers and children, peaceful settings, happy things.�� A note inside stated that she felt we were “scraps,”—the “scraps�� that the abusive priests treated us like. They would use us as a scrap is used and then simply toss us aside. I was moved to tears. Holding it in my hands, I could almost feel others' pain and suffering, as I touched each panel. It is a magnificent work, worthy of a prize. I was deeply humbled by the receipt of the quilt. This woman got it; she really got it. This woman got it; she really got it. She has a deeper understanding of what we have gone through. It is rare.”
― Charles L. Bailey Jr., In the Shadow of the Cross: The True Account of My Childhood Sexual and Ritual Abuse at the Hands of a Roman Catholic Priest

“She sat still, I thought, and yet she traveled. And when one stitches, the mind travels, not the way men do, with ax and oxen through the wilderness, but surely our traveling counted too, as motion. And I thought of the patience of the stitches. Writing a book, I thought, which men often do, but women only rarely, has the posture of sewing. One hand leads, and the other hand helps. And books, like quilts, are made, one word at a time, one stitch at a time.”
― Sena Jeter Naslund, Ahab's Wife, or The Star-Gazer

“It’s only fabric! Freestyle fabric cutting and sewing is a low-risk endeavor with a strong payoff of personal growth and empower- ment.”
― Patricia Belyea, East-Meets-West Quilts: Explore Improv with Japanese-Inspired Designs

“There is no room for church mice in improv quilting. You have to own your ideas, your choices, and your determination.”
― Patricia Belyea, East-Meets-West Quilts: Explore Improv with Japanese-Inspired Designs

“You either have my back, [...]
You're at my side, [...]
Or you're in my way.
Be Lilith, [...]
Never Eve.”
― Penelope Douglas, Nightfall

“We sat bathed in luscious darkness, Casco Bay's thousand islands spread out before us like a diamond quilt. 'I don't get enough of this,' she said.”
― Mike Bond, Killing Maine

“Take a good look at your fabric and intuit what it is saying to you.”
― Patricia Belyea, East-Meets-West Quilts: Explore Improv with Japanese-Inspired Designs

“In winter when I put a quilt over myself its shadows on the wall seem to sway like an elephant.”
― Ismat Chugtai, Lihaaf

“Being scared wasn't a weakness. But letting it force my head down and my voice quiet was. Fear wasn't the enemy. It was the teacher.”
― Penelope Douglas, Corrupt

“Live for your love, [...] love your life, and raise hell.”
― Penelope Douglas, Nightfall

“Grandma Grace used to tell Gracie,
“Every quilt has a story.��


The Gift, Spring 2022, WordCrafts Press.”
― Cherie Dargan, The Gift: The California Quilt

“We stitch together quilts of meaning to keep us warm and safe, with whatever patches of beauty and utility we have on hand.�� Anne Lamott.”
― Cherie Dargan, The Gift: The California Quilt

“Maybe at the end of our lives we get a Ferris-Wheel vantage of the whole tapestry, the quilt laid flat, answering for its complexity. At the beginning we’re handed frayed and stained flowery bed sheets, a scrap of polka-dots, a snatch of strawberry print. Tattered as they are, there’s some sustaining sweetness in there.

The oldest pioneer quilts conceal bits of paper batting between their threadbare layers: postcards, recipes, clipped snippets of newspaper poetry. Every spare material had a part to play, fragments of experience and feeling arranged in a repeating pattern, little sewn sound bytes spinning ordered fractals.”
― Robin Brown, Glitter Saints: The Cosmic Art of Forgiveness, a Memoir

“It’s one of the few places I don’t have overwhelming anxiety. Nobody looks at me strangely or thinks I’m different. I can read and listen to music and pet my cats. I can work and research. I can do whatever I want and feel like a normal fucking human.”
― K. Webster, My Torin

“She [Eve] laughs. "You caught me."
"I'll always catch you." [Atticus says.]”
― K. Webster, Wild & Free

“She went to the not-quite-antique stores...and found an old bed quilt, blue and white, with stitches made by a hand she didn't know but trusted all the same, and laid it against the black metal bedstead.”
― Erica Bauermeister, The School of Essential Ingredients

“I've always loved funky rustic quilts more than elegant and maybe lovelier ones. You see the beauty of homeliness and rough patches in how they defy expectations of order and comfort. They have at the same time enormous solemnity and exuberance. They may be made of rags, torn clothes that don't at all go together, but they somehow can be muscular and pretty. The colors are often strong, with a lot of rhythm and discipline and a crazy sense of order. They're improvised, like jazz, where one thing leads to another, without any idea of exactly where the route will lead, except that it will refer to something else maybe already established, or about to be. Embedded in quilts and jazz are clues to escape and strength, sanctuary and warmth. the world is always going to be dangerous, and people get badly banged up, but how can there be more meaning than helping one another stand up in a wind and stay warm?”
― Anne Lamott, Stitches: A Handbook on Meaning, Hope and Repair by Anne Lamott

“She holds the fabric,
threads running through her fingers,
a quiet rhythm of time.
Each patch, a piece of her,
moments sewn into the seams,
stories stitched into the space between.

The jacket grows beneath her hands,
a map of warmth and strength,
woven by the quiet care
of a woman who knows
how to make something whole
from fragments.”
― N’Zuri Za Austin

“She holds the fabric,�� threads running through her fingers,�� a quiet rhythm of time. 
Each patch, a piece of her,�� moments sewn into the seams,�� stories stitched into the space between.

The jacket grows beneath her hands,�� a map of warmth and strength,�� woven by the quiet care�� of a woman who knows�� how to make something whole
from fragments.”
― N’Zuri Za Austin

“She holds the fabric, threads running through her fingers, a quiet rhythm of time. Each patch, a piece of her, becomes moments sewn into the seams, stories stitched into the space between.

The jacket grows beneath her hands, a map of warmth and strength, woven by the quiet care of a woman who knows how to make something whole from fragments.”
― N’Zuri Za Austin

“wdq”
― wqdnlx