Brows Quotes - Page 5

• She wants me to take out Patton.” Barron’s brows draw together. “Take out? As in transform him?” “No,” I say. “As in take out to dinner. She thinks we’d make a good couple.

  Holly Black

  Couple, Thinking, Together

  Holly Black (2012). “Black Heart”, p.82, Simon and Schuster

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• Was it me you were discussing?” he countered with lifted brows. “I couldn’t tell from the description you were giving. Since when am I kind, considerate, refined, and amiable?” “You’re angry,” Victoria concluded on a sigh. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest and his arms tightened, drawing her close to his leann, muscular body. “I’m not angry,” he said in a husky, gentle voice. “I’m embarrassed

  Judith McNaught

  Voice, Drawing, Giving

  Judith McNaught (2016). “Once and Always”, p.181, Simon and Schuster

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• Promise to give me a kiss on my brow when I am dead.--I shall feel it.

  Victor Hugo

  Goodbye, Kissing, Giving

  Victor Hugo (2015). “Les Misérables”, p.1031, First Avenue Editions

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• Then Aragorn stooped and looked in her face, and it was indeed white as a lily, cold as frost, and hard as graven stone. But he bent and kissed her on the brow, and called her softly, saying: 'Éowyn Éomund's daughter, awake! For your enemy has passed away!' - Aragorn & Éowyn

  J. R. R. Tolkien

  Daughter, White, Enemy

  J.R.R. Tolkien (2012). “The Lord of the Rings: One Volume”, p.587, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

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• Sometimes... sometimes keeping alive is too tiring," she whispered, wringing her hands. Before he knew what he was doing, he pressed his lips against her brow. "Don't ever say that. Ever.

  Melina Marchetta

  Hands, Alive, Lips

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• "You're full of contradictions, Ms. Wallace." I looked up at him and arched a brow. "I'm a girl. That's part of the job description, Mr. Maxfield."

  Tammara Webber

  Girl, Jobs, Contradiction

  "Easy". Book by Tammara Webber, May, 2012.

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• Do you really want to know why you lost?” I asked. “Do you really have an answer?” he countered. “You need to get off your horse and run with your men. You don’t have the stamina for a long fight. And find a lighter sword.” “But it was my uncle’s.” “You’re not your uncle.” “But I’m the King, and this is the King’s sword,” Cahil said. His brows creased together. He seemed confused. “So wear it to your coronation,” I said. “If you use it in battle, you’ll be wearing it to your funeral,” I said.

  Maria V. Snyder

  Running, Horse, Uncles

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• I want to make a bet with you.” Her interest perked up. “You do? About what?” Already knowing it wouldn’t go over well, Spencer braced himself. “I bet you can’t go a month without cursing.” Her chin tucked in, and her brows came down. “What does that have to do with anything?” He had no idea, except that it annoying him to hear her be so coarse. “Go a month without cursing.” He hated himself, but he said, “Every time you slip, you owe me a kiss.

  Lori Foster

  Kissing, Ideas, Knowing

  Lori Foster (2012). “A Perfect Storm”, p.24, HQN Books

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• He looked glad to be on his way and made a beeline for the exit. Just as he was out the door, however, he stuck his head back in. “I don’t mind foreigners. God save the queen!” he squeaked, and ran. Bones arched a brow. I sighed. “Didn’t hear that part? Never mind. Don’t ask.

  Jeaniene Frost

  Queens, Doors, Mind

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• When she looked at herself in her wedding photographs, Ammu felt the woman that looked back at her was someone else. A foolish jewelled bride. Her silk sunset-coloured sari shot with gold. Rings on every finger. White dots of sandalwood paste over her arched eye-brows. Looking at herself like this, Ammu's soft mouth would twist into a small, bitter smile at the memory - not of the wedding itself so much as the fact that she had permitted herself to be so painstakingly decorated before being led to the gallows. It seemed so absurd. So futile. Like polishing firewood.

  Arundhati Roy

  Memories, Sunset, Eye

  Arundhati Roy (2002). “The God of Small Things”, p.43, Penguin Books India

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• She stretched out her hand, saying, “Vernon! My dear, what a delightful surprise!” “What’s surprising about it?” he enquired, lifting his black brows. “Didn’t you ask me to come?” The smile remained pinned to Lady Buxted’s lips, but she replied with more than a touch of acidity: “To be sure I did, but so many days ago that I supposed you had gone out of town!” “Oh, no!” he said, returning her smile with one of great sweetness.

  Georgette Heyer

  Hands, Black, Gone

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• Oh! Be men, or be more than men. Be steady to your purposes and firm as a rock. This ice is not made of such stuff as your hearts may be; it is mutable and cannot withstand you if you say that it shall not. Do not return to your families with the stigma of disgrace marked on your brows. Return as heroes who have fought and conquered, and who know not what it is to turn their backs on the foe.

  Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley

  Hero, Heart, Men

  Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley (1993). “Frankenstein”, p.164, Wordsworth Editions

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• I clutched at the brow. The mice in my interior had now got up an informal dance and were buck-and-winging all over the place like a bunch of Nijinskys.

  P. G. Wodehouse

  Bucks, Bunch, Mice

  P.G. Wodehouse (1989). “Aunts Omnibus”, Hutchinson

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• It's like this when you fall hard for a musician. It's a crush with religious overtones. You listen to the songs and you memorize the words and the notes and this is a form of prayer. You attend the shows and this is the liturgy. You're interested in relics -- guitar picks, set lists, the sweaty napkin applied to His brow. You set up shrines in your room. It's not just about the music. It's about who you are when you listen to the music and who you wish to be and the way a particular song can bridge that gap, can make you feel the abrupt thrill of absolute faith.

  Steve Almond

  Crush, Song, Religious

  Steve Almond (2010). “Rock and Roll Will Save Your Life: A Book by and for the Fanatics Among Us”, p.71, Random House

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• Da, hes waiting for me to tell the two of you our news first, then he'll join me." He cocked a dark brow at her. "And why would he not come to your mother and me first and ask permission to handfast with you, as is the honorable thing to do?" She cocked her own brow, mirroring his expression perfectly. "Because he's not stupid. Anyone with any sense would be scared of you two. But even scared to death, he wanted to come with me. I wouldn't let him. I knew I needed to talk to you alone first.

  P. C. Cast

  Mother, Stupid, Dark

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• She might not know what your routine is, but I do,” I said softly. “So put the lantern down. You’re not burning me yet, and we both know it.” “What’s she saying?” Sarah demanded, hobbling over. His white brows drew together, and I allowed a little smile to play on my lips. “Awfully bossy with you, isn’t she? Then again, it makes sense. She’s got the pants on, and you’re the one in the dress.

  Jeaniene Frost

  Play, White, Together

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• He'd been let down so often His brow was on the floor But then they found A small hole in the ground And let him down some more

  David Thewlis

  Let Down, Holes, Found

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• A chilly breeze that seemed to emanate from the heart of the forest lifted the hair at Harry's brow. He knew that they would not tell him to go, that it would have to be his decision. "You'll stay with me?" "Until the very end," said James.

  J. K. Rowling

  Heart, Hair, Decision

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• Ah, drink again This river that is the taker-away of pain, And the giver-back of beauty! In these cool waves What can be lost?-- Only the sorry cost Of the lovely thing, ah, never the thing itself! The level flood that laves The hot brow And the stiff shoulder Is at our temples now. Gone is the fever, But not into the river; Melted the frozen pride, But the tranquil tide Runs never the warmer for this, Never the colder. Immerse the dream. Drench the kiss. Dip the song in the stream.

  Edna St. Vincent Millay

  Running, Dream, Song

  Edna St. Vincent Millay (2003). “Edna St. Vincent Millay: Selected Poems”, p.95, Library of America

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• There is nothing wrong with God's plan that man should earn his bread by the sweat of his brow.

  Laura Ingalls Wilder

  Men, Sweat, Bread

  Laura Ingalls Wilder (2010). “Writings to Young Women from Laura Ingalls Wilder - Volume One: On Wisdom and Virtues”, p.61, Thomas Nelson Inc

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• Listening (had there been any one to listen) from the upper rooms of the empty house only gigantic chaos streaked with lightning could have been heard tumbling and tossing, as the winds and waves disported themselves like the amorphous bulks of leviathans whose brows are pierced by no light of reason, and mounted one on top of another, and lunged and plunged in the darkness or the daylight (for night and day, month and year ran shapelessly together) in idiot games, until it seemed as if the universe were battling and tumbling, in brute confusion and wanton lust aimlessly by itself.

  Virginia Woolf

  Night, Light, Years

  Virginia Woolf (2007). “Selected Works of Virginia Woolf”, p.343, Wordsworth Editions

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• Go out and ask her into the alley.” Clay looked at Jeremy as if he’d just been told to dance the rumba on a public thoroughfare. I bit back a laugh. “Just walk over to her and point at the alley. Maybe say…I don’t know…something like ‘fifty bucks.’ ” I looked at Jeremy. “Does that sound right? Fifty?” His brows shot up. “Why are you asking me?” “I wasn’t—I just meant, as a general…” I threw up my hands. “How am I supposed to know how much a hooker costs?

  Kelley Armstrong

  Hands, Laughing, Clay

  Kelley Armstrong (2009). “Broken”, p.119, Seal Books

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• I'm so glad you're back. We need you here. I mean...Burnett's okay, but...he's not you." Holiday arched a brow. "I hear he wasn't even himself for a while there." Miranda frowned. "He told you about the whole kangaroo thing, didn't he." "Yeah," Holiday said, and her brows tightened. "And I must say, I'm very disappointed with you, Miranda" she reached out and gripped Miranda's hand. "The next time you turn him into anything, do it when I'm here to enjoy it." -Taken at Dusk

  C.C. Hunter

  Taken, Holiday, Mean

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• I need dating advice. Fast.” Ash arched a single brow at that. “I’m useless. I’ve never been on one.” The three human men turned to gape at him. “What?” Ash asked them defensively. Nick started laughing. “Oh man, this is priceless. Don’t tell me the great Acheron is a virgin?” Ash gave him a droll look. “Yeah, Nick. I’m lily-white.

  Sherrilyn Kenyon

  Men, White, Laughing

  Sherrilyn Kenyon (2010). “Night Play”, p.117, Macmillan

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• His brows rose. “And how is it that you have come to be such an expert on scrapes and bruises?” “I’m a governess,” she said. Because really, that ought to be explanation enough.

  Julia Quinn

  Rose, Experts, Bruises

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