Fingers Quotes - Page 20

• George had taken off all ten of his fingers and tied them into a bundle with what appeared to be either his own small intestines, or a guitar string; as I walked into the room, he lovingly placed the bundle on his head.

  Alan Goldsher

  Taken, Guitar, Rooms

  Alan Goldsher (2010). “Paul Is Undead”, p.199, Simon and Schuster

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• I'll never forget my first time with you' Min said as she edged the doughnut off her finger. 'The earth moved, and then my mother asked my father who he was going down on at lunch.

  Jennifer Crusie

  Mother, Sex, Father

  Jennifer Crusie (2006). “Welcome to Temptation/Bet Me”, p.682, Macmillan

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• ...that left Francesca to slink into the chair opposite us. My feeling of superiority was short-lived, however, when she settled herself down and then crossed her legs. I didn't need a mirror to know my whole face had just turned red. With a hemline up to her thighs that gesture didn't leave anything to the imagination. Bones curled his fingers around mine and squeezed. His hand was still warmed from our contact moments ago. That's how fast he had to grab me again to keep me sitting where I was instead of yanking off my jacket to make her a pair of panties.

  Jeaniene Frost

  Mirrors, Hands, Opposites

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• When I hold you in my arms and I feel my finger on your trigger I know no one can do me no harm because happiness is a warm gun.

  John Lennon

  Happiness, Gun, Arms

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• let me tell you what happens when you cook down the syrup of loss over the open fire of sorrow: it solidfies into something wlaw. not grief, like you'd expect, or even regret. no, it gets thick as paste, black as ash; yet it isn't until you dip a finger in and feel that sharp taste dissolving on your tounge that you realize this is angel in its purest form, unrefined; a substance to be weighed and measyred and spread.

  Jodi Picoult

  Regret, Grief, Angel

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• Writing is not just the technical act of your fingers on the keyboard. Writing is living.

  Melissa Marr

  Writing, Keyboards

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• My genius is not so frail a thing that it cowers from the dirty fingers of newspapernen.

  Diane Setterfield

  Dirty, Genius, Frail

  Diane Setterfield (2007). “The Thirteenth Tale”, p.6, Simon and Schuster

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• I never met your likeness. Jane: you please me, and you master me - you seem to submit, and I like the sense of pliancy you impart; and while I am twining the soft, silken skein round my finger, it sends a thrill up my arm to my heart. I am influenced - conquered; and the influence is sweeter than I can express; and the conquest I undergo has a witchery beyond any triumph _I_ can win.

  Charlotte Bronte

  Heart, Winning, Please Me

  Charlotte Bronte, Emily Bronte, Anne Bronte (2009). “The Bronte Sisters: Three Novels: Jane Eyre; Wuthering Heights; and Agnes Grey (Penguin Classics Deluxe Edition)”, p.213, Penguin

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• I can't even tell you how good it felt to see him. It felt even better when he reached through the metal grate, wrapped his fingers around the front of my shirt, dragged me forward, and kissed me through the bars. "Sorry" he said-only not looking to sorry, if you know what I mean.

  Meg Cabot

  Sorry, Mean, Bars

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• One minute she acts like she wants to be with me and I'm the one rejecting her. The next, she's got this barbed wire fence and barking dogs around her, like I can't even ask her the simplest questions." "And here I was assuming you didn't care about her." Stabbing his fingers through his hair, he groaned, "I don't!" "And you make it perfectly clear." Men. Idiots.

  Jennifer Armintrout

  Dog, Men, Hair

  Jennifer Armintrout (2007). “Blood Ties Book Three: Ashes to Ashes”, p.107, MIRA

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• They had never been closer in their month of love, nor communicated more profoundly one with another, than when she brushed silent lips against his coat's shoulder or when he touched the end of her fingers, gently, as though she were asleep.

  F. Scott Fitzgerald

  Coats, Months, Lips

  F. Scott Fitzgerald (2013). “The Great Gatsby”, p.117, Atlântico Press

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• Let tears gather in your eyes. You haven’t tears enough for what you’ve done to me. Six more mortal years, seven, eight…I might have had that shape!’ Her pointed finger flew at Madeleine, whose hands had risen to her face, whose eyes were clouded over. Her moan was almost Claudia’s name. But Claudia did not hear her. ‘Yes, that shape, I might have known what it was to walk at your side.

  Anne Rice

  Eye, Years, Your Side

  Anne Rice (1976). “Interview with the Vampire: A Novel”

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• Faith seems to grab people and not let go, but hope is a double-crosser. It can beat it on you anytime; it's your job to dig in your heels and hang on. Must be nice to have hope in your pocket, like loose change you could jingle through your fingers.

  Judy Blundell

  Letting Go, Jobs, Nice

  Judy Blundell (2011). “Strings Attached”, p.2, Scholastic Inc.

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• I’ll never die", he said. Before I could protest, Lucas put two fingers on my lips, his smile seemed to fill the room with lights and I realized he was telling a deeper kind of truth then I’d ever known before “You’ll live forever and being remembered by you is the only immortality I’ll ever need if I only live on as a part of you – Bianca, that’s my idea of heaven

  Claudia Gray

  Ideas, Two, Light

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• We held hands when we walked down the gingerbread path into the forest, blood dripping from our fingers. We danced with witches and kissed monsters. We turned us into wintergirls, when she tried to leave, I pulled her back into the snow because I was afraid to be alone.

  Laurie Halse Anderson

  Blood, Hands, Snow

  Laurie Halse Anderson (2009). “Wintergirls”, p.78, Penguin

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• That was when they suspended the Constitution. They said it would be temporary. There wasn't even any rioting in the streets. People stayed home at night, watching television, looking for some direction. There wasn't even an enemy you could put your finger on.

  Margaret Atwood

  Home, Night, People

  FaceBook post by Margaret Atwood from Feb 20, 2017

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• You must find a boy your own age. Someone mild and beautiful to be your lover. Someone who will tremble for your touch, offer you a marguerite by its long stem with his eyes lowered. Someone whose fingers are a poem.

  Janet Fitch

  Love, Beautiful, Eye

  Janet Fitch (2013). “White Oleander”, p.61, Hachette UK

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• Arriane sized her up, tapping one finger against her lips. "Perfect," she said, stepping forward to loop her arm through Luce's. "I was just thinking I could really use a new slave.

  Lauren Kate

  Thinking, Perfect, Use

  Lauren Kate (2011). “The Fallen Sequence: An Omnibus Edition”, p.27, Delacorte Press

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• Death arrives among all that sound like a shoe with no foot in it, like a suit with no man in it, comes and knocks, using a ring with no stone in it, with no finger in it, comes and shouts with no mouth, with no tongue,with no throat. Nevertheless its steps can be heard and its clothing makes a hushed sound, like a tree.

  Pablo Neruda

  Men, Shoes, Feet

  Pablo Neruda, “Nothing But Death”

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• One would truly need a great and spacious makeup kit to compete with beauty as portrayed in media all around us. Yet at the end of the day there would still be those "in the attitude of mocking and point their fingers" as Lehi saw (1 Nephi 8:27) because however much one tries in the world of glamour and fashion, it will never be glamorous enough.

  Jeffrey R. Holland

  Fashion, Attitude, Makeup

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• One day you will hear the sound of time rustling as it slips through your fingers like sand. Remember me then. I wish you luck.

  Sergei Lukyanenko

  Time, Luck, Wish

  Sergei Lukyanenko (2006). “Night Watch”, Miramax

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• Grief, I swear to God, doesn't live in the heart. It lives in the senses. And sometimes, all I want to do is cut off my nose so I can't smell her, hack my fingers off at the joint.

  Dennis Lehane

  Grief, Heart, Cutting

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• I don’t know what boldness came over me, but the resolute heaviness of Dash’s demeanor threatened to crush my soul. My pinky finger crept over and nestled against his, for comfort. Like a magnet, his pinky finger latched onto and intertwined with mine. I like magnets a whole lot.

  Rachel Cohn

  Crush, Soul, Comfort

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• Jace snorted so loudly that she turned on him with a frown. He wiggled his mud-caked fingers at her. His nails were black crescents. "Filthy inside and out.

  Cassandra Clare

  Black, Nails, Mud

  Cassandra Clare (2010). “Cassandra Clare: The Mortal Instrument Series (3 books): City of Bones; City of Ashes; City of Glass”, p.434, Simon and Schuster

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• What kind of wedding would you like?" he asked, and stole another kiss before she could reply. "The kind that turns you into my husband." She touched the firm line of his mouth with her fingers. "What kind would you like?" He smiled ruefully. "A fast one.

  Lisa Kleypas

  Husband, Kissing, Mouths

  Lisa Kleypas (2010). “Love in the Afternoon”, p.219, Macmillan

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