The spider’s web: She finds an innocuous corner in which to spin her web. The longer the web takes, the more fabulous its construction. She has no need to …
– Poetry is a fresh morning spider-web telling a story of moonlit hours of weaving and waiting during a night. —Carl Sandburg, The Complete Poems of Carl Sandburg – Image …
One cannot separate the spider web’s form from the way in which it originated. Nature doesn’t divide between the architect, the engineer and the construction worker. —Neri Oxman, in “The …
Fiction is like a spider’s web, attached ever so lightly perhaps, but still attached to life at all four corners. ― Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s Own Image by Pexels from Pixabay …