“Spiders evidently as surprised by the weather as the rest of us: their webs were still everywhere - little silken laundry lines with perfect snowflakes hung out in rows to dry.”

“Thus I, gone forth, as spiders do,In spider’s web a truth discerning,Attach one silken strand to youFor my returning.”

“Silence hung around the corners, draped like spider webs across all surfaces and hanging like smog in the air.”

“The painting was framed in a misty view of sky, sea, and valley.Newt's painting was small, black, and warty.It consisted of scratches made in a black, gummy impasto. The scratches formed a sort of spider's web, and I wondered if they might not be the sticky nets of human futility hung up on a moonless night to dry.”

“Her life was perfect. But as was often the case, the rest of us were still adjusting.”

“Do you understand how there could be any writing in a spider's web?""Oh, no," said Dr. Dorian. "I don't understand it. But for that matter I don't understand how a spider learned to spin a web in the first place. When the words appeared, everyone said they were a miracle. But nobody pointed out that the web itself is a miracle.""What's miraculous about a spider's web?" said Mrs. Arable. "I don't see why you say a web is a miracle-it's just a web.""Ever try to spin one?" asked Dr. Dorian.”