Lays Quotes - Page 31

Jericho lay back down on his side, watching her breathe just an arm's length from him. She was not beautiful while she slept; her mouth hung open and she snored very lightly, and this, despite everything that had happened, made him smile.

Libba Bray

Beautiful, Mouths, Arms

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What love lays bare in me is energy.

Roland Barthes

Energy

Roland Barthes (1990). “A lover's discourse: fragments”, Penguin Books

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Sometime I’ll lay down my wrath, As I lay my body down Between the ache of breath and breath, Golden slumber in the bone.

Allen Ginsberg

Wrath, Slumber, Body

Allen Ginsberg (2010). “Collected Poems 1947-1997”, p.38, Harper Collins

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I'll call if I break a leg or get eaten by a bear." "Play like a rock." "Now?" "No, if a bear starts eating you." I thought for a moment before replying. "Do they have screaming, sobbing rocks, 'cause that's probably what I'll be doing if a bear is gnawing my arm off." "It would be difficult to just lay there and be eaten alive, huh?" "Ya think?

Darynda Jones

Thinking, Break A Leg, Rocks

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Be your own place of safety, she told herself, straightening. No crossbar in the world could protect her from what lay ahead, and neither could a tiny knife ticked in her boot - though there her tiny knife would most certainly remain - and neither could a man, not even Akiva. She had to be her own strength, complete unto herself.

Laini Taylor

Men, Knives, Safety

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I lay my head on his chest and listen to his heart beating, solid and sure.....he reads me so well. He's known about my emotional empathy since we were children. Nothing disturbs him...Few can lie to me... I don't know the truth, only that there is a lie. It takes a scrupulously honest man to love me. That's my Sean. We learned to trust each other completely before we were old enough to have learned suspicion.

Karen Marie Moning

Children, Lying, Heart

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The sky lay over the city like a map showing the strata of things and the big full moon toppled over in a furrow like the abandoned wheel of a gun carriage on a sunset field of battle and the shadows walked like cats and I looked into the white and ghostly interior of things and thought of you and I looked on their structural outsides and thought of you and was lonesome.

Zelda Fitzgerald

Sunset, Cat, Gun

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...trees to cool the towns in the boiling summer, trees to hold back the winter winds. There were so many things a tree could do: add color, provide shade, drop fruit, or become a children's playground, a whole sky universe to climb and hang from; an architecture of food and pleasure, that was a tree. But most of all the trees would distill an icy air for the lungs, and a gentle rustling for the ear when you lay nights in your snowy bed and were gentled to sleep by the sound.

Ray Bradbury

Summer, Children, Sleep

Ray Bradbury (2012). “The Martian Chronicles”, p.97, Simon and Schuster

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Beautiful Hannah. If you were mine, I'd lay you on silk sheets and wrap you up in ropes of pearls, and feed you honey from a silver spoon. Of course, you wouldn't be able to make all your high-minded judgments if you were a fallen woman...but you wouldn't care. Because I would pleasure you, Hannah, every night, all night, until you forgot your own name. Until you were willing to do things that would shock you in the light of day. I would debauch you from your head down to your innocent little toes-" "Oh, I despise you.

Lisa Kleypas

Beautiful, Night, Light

Lisa Kleypas (2012). “A Wallflower Christmas: Number 5 in series”, p.57, Hachette UK

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For seven days she lay in bed looking sullenly at the ceiling as though resenting the death she had cultivated for so many years. Like some people who cannot vomit despite horrible nausea, she lay there unable to die, resisting death as she had resisted life, frozen with resentment of process and change.

William S. Burroughs

Years, People, Bed

William S. Burroughs, Jack Kerouac (2009). “And the Hippos Were Boiled in Their Tanks”, p.57, Grove/Atlantic, Inc.

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In this there is no measuring with time, a year doesn’t matter, and ten years are nothing. Being an artist means: not numbering and counting, but ripening like a tree, which doesn’t force its sap, and stands confidently in the storms of spring, not afraid that afterward summer may not come. It does come. But it comes only to those who are patient, who are there as if eternity lay before them, so unconcernedly silent and vast. I learn it every day of my life, learn it with pain I am grateful for: patience is everything!

Rainer Maria Rilke

Summer, Pain, Spring

Rainer Maria Rilke (2001). “Letters to a Young Poet”

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His attention caught, her companion raised his eyes from the book which lay open beside him on the table and directed them upon her in a look of aloof enquiry. 'What's that? Did you say something to me, Venetia?' 'Yes, love,' responded his sister cheerfully, 'but it wasn't of the least consequence, and in any event I answered for you. You would be astonished, I daresay, if you knew what interesting conversations I enjoy with myself.

Georgette Heyer

Book, Eye, Interesting Conversation

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When I save, I lay something aside for future need. If I sense God's leading, I will give it away to meet greater needs. When I hoard, I'm unwilling to part with what I've saved to meet others' needs, because my possible future needs outweigh their actual present needs. I fail to love my neighbor as myself.

Randy Alcorn

Giving, Needs, Failing

Randy Alcorn (2011). “Managing God's Money: A Biblical Guide”, p.195, Tyndale House Publishers, Inc.

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Blaire, even if all we do is kiss or just lay there and talk, I'm okay with that. I just wanted you up here. Close to me.

Abbi Glines

Kissing, Okay, Wanted

Abbi Glines (2014). “The Fallen Too Far Trilogy: Includes Fallen Too Far, Never Too Far and Forever Too Far”, p.113, Simon and Schuster

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One often feels as though something had happened before, I remember. It comes quite close to you and stands there and you know it was just this way once before, exactly so; for an instant you almost know how it must go on, but then it disappears as you try to lay hold of it like smoke or a dead memory. "We could never remember, Isabelle," I say. "It's like the rain. That has also become one, out of two gasses, oxygen and hydrogen, which no longer remember they were once gasses. Now they are only rain and have no memory of an earlier time.

Erich Maria Remarque

Memories, Rain, Oxygen

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his old life lay behind in the mists, dark adventure lay in front.

J. R. R. Tolkien

Adventure, Dark, Mist

J.R.R. Tolkien (2012). “The Lord of the Rings: One Volume”, p.80, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

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Now, when their glances met, they understood one another. The power that lay within both their souls had met, and, as it were, clasped hands. They accepted one another's sacrifice. Hers, mayhap, was the more complete of the two, because for her his absence would mean weary waiting, the dull heartache so terrible to bear.

Baroness Orczy

Mean, Sacrifice, Hands

Baroness Orczy (2011). “The First Sir Percy”, p.76, House of Stratus

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Valancy herself had never quite relinquished a certain pitiful, shamed, little hope that Romance would come her way yet - never, until this wet, horrible morning, when she wakened to the fact that she was twenty-nine and unsought by any man. Ay, there lay the sting. Valancy did not mind so much being an old maid. After all, she thought, being an old maid couldn’t possibly be as dreadful as being married to an Uncle Wellignton or an Uncle Benjamin, or even an Uncle Herbert. What hurt her was that she had never had a chance to be anything but an old maid.

Lucy Maud Montgomery

Hurt, Morning, Uncles

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After an awkward pause, Bast extended his hand. Chronicler hesitated for a bare moment before reaching out quickly, as if he were sticking his hand into a fire. Nothing happened, both of them seemed moderately surprised. "Amazing, isn't it?" Kvothe addressed them bitingly. "Five fingers and flesh with blood beneath. One could almost believe that on the other end of that hand lay a person of some sort.

Patrick Rothfuss

Believe, Fire, Blood

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In his mind she lay at his lap with his fingers gliding thru her straight beautiful hair. He smiles and says" your beauty lights up everything around you.

Rumi

Beautiful, Light, Hair

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Take care with your words, Jacquetta, especially in cursing. Only say the things you mean, make sure you lay your curse on the right man. For be very sure that when you put such words out in the world they can overshoot-like an arrow, a curse can go beyond your target and harm another. A wise woman curses very sparingly.

Philippa Gregory

Wise, Mean, Men

Philippa Gregory (2013). “The Lady of the Rivers”, p.34, Simon and Schuster

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Why are all reflections lovelier than what we call reality? -- not so grand or so strong, it may be, but always lovelier? Fair as is the gliding sloop on the shining sea, the wavering, trembling, unresting sail below is fairer still...All mirrors are magic mirrors. The commonest room is a room in a poem when I turn to the glass...There must be a truth involved in it, though we may but in part lay hold of the meaning.

George MacDonald

Strong, Reflection, Reality

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She died on a windy gray day in March when the sky was full of darting crows and the world lay prostrate and defeated after winter. Peter Lake was at her side and it ruined him forever. It broke him as he had not ever imagined he could have been broken. He would never again be young, or able to remember what it was like to be young. What he had once taken to be pleasures would appear to him in his defeat as hideous and deserved punishments for reckless vanity.

Mark Helprin

Taken, Winter, Lakes

Mark Helprin (1989). “Winter's Tale”, Pocket Books

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Trust is not a passive state of mind. It is a vigorous act of the soul by which we choose to lay hold on the promises of God and cling to them despite the adversity that at times seeks to overwhelms us.

Jerry Bridges

Adversity, Soul, Promise

Jerry Bridges, Gerald Bridges, Jack Kuhatschek (1989). “You Can Trust God”, Navpress Publishing Group

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There were times when the fact of impending death seemed as palpable as the bed they lay on, and they would cling together with a sort of despairing sensuality, like a damned soul grasping at his last morsel of pleasure when the clock is within five minutes of striking. But there were also times when they had the illusion not only of safety but of permanence.

George Orwell

Safety, Soul, Together

George Orwell (2001). “The Complete Novels of George Orwell: Animal Farm, Burmese Days, A Clergyman's Daughter, Coming Up for Air, Keep the Aspidistra Flying, Nineteen Eighty-Four”, p.1256, Penguin UK

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