When you realize the difference between the container and the content, you will have knowledge.
I cannot be contained because I am the container.
A book is simply the container of an idea-like a bottle; what is inside the book is what matters.
Human nature is like water. It takes the shape of its container.
Your words are containers for power, and by the words you speak you frame your world!
A brand is essentially a container for a customer’s complete experience with the product or company.
Environments are not just containers, but are processes that change the content totally.
When the masses begin to vibrate with an energy of love, the world will no longer be a container for war, violence, and lies.
When we speak of God or achieving union with God, we are often merely trying to put that great thing into a small container. One cannot drive a camel through the eye of a needle.
Student is not a container you have to fill but a torch you have to light up.
Some cities, like wrapped boxes under Christmas trees, conceal unexpected gifts, secret delights. Some cities will always remain wrapped boxes, containers of riddles never to be solved, nor even to be seen by vacationing visitors, or, for that matter, the most inquisitive, persistent travelers.
Abortion restrictions 'reduce pregnant women to no more than fetal containers.'
Information can't be put in any container that isn't leaky.
Barnacles on the container ship of consciousness.
To me there's no creativity without boundaries. If you're gonna write a sonnet, it's 14 lines, so it's solving the problem within the container.
What would tomorrow bring? I wondered. Both hands on the wheel, I closed my eyes. I didn’t feel like I was in my own body; my body was just a lonely, temporary container I happened to be borrowing. What would become of me tomorrow I did not know.
I picked up Pandora's jar. The spirit of Hope fluttered inside, trying to warm the cold container. "Hestia," I said, "I give this to you as an offering." The goddess tilted her head. "I am the least of the gods. Why would you trust me with this?" "You're the last Olympian," I said. "And the most important." "And why is that, Percy Jackson?" "Because Hope survives best at the hearth," I said. "Guard it for me, and I won't be tempted to give up again."
A novel, in the end, is a container, a shape which you are trying to pour your story into.
Architecture is basically a container of something. I hope they will enjoy not so much the teacup, but the tea.
For the Persian poet Rumi, each human life is analogous to a bowl floating on the surface of an infinite ocean. As it moves along, it is slowly filling with the water around it. That's a metaphor for the acquisition of knowledge. When the water in the bowl finally reaches the same level as the water outside, there is no longer any need for the container, and it drops away as the inner water merges with the outside water. We call this the moment of death. That analogy returns to me over and over as a metaphor for ourselves.
I made lasagna for dinner," Tamsyn called out. "That work for you?" He continued to look at her, as if he'd drink her up with his eyes. "Anything is fine." "Maybe I shouldn't waste my lasagna on you, then." Tamsyn grabbed a container from the cooling unit. "How about some cardboard instead?" Brenna found herself amused in spite of the blood that continued to scent the air and the taut expectation that stretched between her and Judd. Lips twitching, she waited for his response. "Cardboard has no nutritional value." Utterly toneless. "Lasagna would be a better choice.
Im mad keen on recycling because Im worried about the next generation and where all this waste were producing is going. It has to stop. I wash out my plastic containers and recycle envelopes, everything I possibly can.
Just as a mirror, which reflects all things, is set in its own container, so too the rational soul is placed in the fragile container of the body. In this way, the body is governed in its earthly life by the soul, and the soul contemplates heavenly things through faith.
A snowball is simple, direct and familiar to most of us. I use this simplicity as a container for feelings and ideas that function on many levels.
I ponder if we are more defined by the container we are in than what we are inside. Would we recognize ourselves if we could expand beyond our bodies?
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