Moved Quotes - Page 18

• All it means is that, while our minds may have trouble communicating, our bodies don't have any problem at all." "I don't think it's that simple." "Sure it is." "The earth moved," she said softly. "That has to be more than bodies communicating.

  Susan Elizabeth Phillips

  Mean, Simple, Thinking

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• Luke indicated Simon and Clary with a wave of his hand. 'I brought some people to see you.' Jace's eyes moved to them. They were as blanked as if the had been painted. 'Unfortunately, ' he said, 'I only had the one pencil.

  Cassandra Clare

  Eye, Hands, People

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• I'd never met anyone so vibrant or alive. He moved like light.

  Paula McLain

  Light, Alive, Mets

  Paula McLain (2011). “The Paris Wife: A Novel”, p.24, Ballantine Books

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• Books could be an incredible adventure. I stayed under my blanket and barely moved, and no one would have guessed how my mind raced and my heart soared with stories.

  Paula McLain

  Book, Heart, Adventure

  Paula McLain (2011). “The Paris Wife: A Novel”, p.36, Ballantine Books

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• I suddenly had an idea of how adults can hold on to a feeling for very long periods of time, long after the event is finished, long after cards have been sent and apologies made and everyone else had moved on. Adults were pack rats of old, useless emotions

  Reif Larsen

  Apology, Ideas, Long

  Reif Larsen (2010). “The Selected Works of T. S. Spivet: A Novel”, p.317, Penguin

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• Did I feel a physical desire for him? I did. Was I moved by a passion of my body? I was. Have I experienced the most violent form of sensual pleasure? I have.

  Ayn Rand

  Passion, Sensual, Desire

  Ayn Rand (2016). “Atlas Shrugged”, p.651, Hamilton Books

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• I didn't like the way I looked, the way I dressed and moved, what I achieved and what I felt I was worth. But there was so much energy in me, such belief that one day I'd be handsome and clever and superior and admired, such anticipation when I met new people and new situations. Is that what makes me sad? The eagerness and belief that filled me then and exacted a pledge from life that life could never fulfill? Sometimes I see the same eagerness and belief in the faces of children and teenagers and the sight brings back the same sadness I feel in remembering myself.

  Bernhard Schlink

  Children, Clever, Teenager

  Bernhard Schlink (2001). “The Reader”, p.38, Vintage

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• Cold?" Ravus echoed. He took her arm and rubbed it between his hands, watching them as though they were betraying him. "Better?" He asked warily. His skin felt hot, even through the cloth of her shirt, his touch was both soothing and electric. She leaned into him without thinking. His thighs parted, rough black cloth scratching against her jeans as she moved between his long legs. His eyes half-lidded as he pushed himself off the desk, their bodies sliding together, his hands still holding hers. Then, suddenly, he froze.

  Holly Black

  Eye, Thinking, Hands

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• Gradually, the night stumbled as if stunned and wandering aimlessly into an overcast day -- limped through the wilderland of transition as though there were no knowing where the waste of darkness ended and the ashes of light began. The low clouds seemed full of grief -- tense and uneasy with accumulated woe -- and yet affectless, unable to rain, as if the air clenched itself too hard for tears. And through the dawn, Atiaran and Covenant moved heavily, unevenly, like pieces of a broken lament.

  Stephen R. Donaldson

  Grief, Rain, Night

  Stephen R. Donaldson (2012). “Lord Foul's Bane”, p.97, Del Rey

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• So Zeno is most famous for his tortoise paradox. Let us imagine that you are in a race with a tortoise. The tortoise has a ten-yard head start. In the time it takes you to run that ten yards, the tortoise has moved one yard. And then in the time it takes you to make up that distance, the tortoise goes a bit farther, and so on forever. You are faster than the tortoise but you can never catch him; you can only decrease his lead.

  John Green

  Running, Distance, Race

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• Nothing is ever really lost. The memories of good friends and good times are always there, never more than a thought away. In a sense, they never really stopped happening. Every moment you ever treasured, every friend you ever valued is still there, separated from us only by time; the past is still happening and always will be. It's only we who have moved on.

  Simon R. Green

  Memories, Good Friend, Past

  Simon R. Green (1997). “Deathstalker War”, p.231, Penguin

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• But he didn't need to seek visual confirmation of what he'd just heard to know she had. And the truth was, he couldn't blame her. He'd not have let her die, either. He'd have moved mountains. He'd have battled God or Devil for his wife's life. She'd betrayed him. He smiled faintly.

  Karen Marie Moning

  Wife, Devil, Mountain

  Karen Marie Moning (2005). “Spell of the Highlander”, Random House LLC

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• But then the girl moved, and smiled, and pulled her hand from the grate- a gorgeous green stone clutched tightly in her grasp. It was covered with dust and cobwebs, but it was uncracked and unharmed. And, of course, completely fake.

  Ally Carter

  Girl, Dust, Hands

  Ally Carter (2011). “Uncommon Criminals”, p.85, ReadHowYouWant.com

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• I felt his eyes devour me as I moved around the room. He assessed me head to toe without blinking, and a hot ache shivered through me. A kiss would've been less intimate.

  Becca Fitzpatrick

  Eye, Kissing, Hot

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• Nick sat beside Simon, who was at his computer. Marcus stood at attention beside the food. Hale had his feet on the table, reading the morning paper. And someone had given the Bagshaws a gun. 'Pull!' Hamish yelled, and Angus pulled a cord and sent a skeet flying across the deep blue water. A split second later, a loud crack was reverberating across the deck. Kat jumped. Hale sighed. The shot went far wide, and Marcus never moved a muscle.

  Ally Carter

  Morning, Reading, Gun

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• One of the first signs of the beginning of understanding is the wish to die. This life appears unbearable, another unattainable. One is no longer ashamed of wanting to die; one asks to be moved from the old cell, which one hates, to a new one, which one willl only in time come to hate. In this there is also a residue of belief that during the move the master will chance to come along the corridor, look at the prisoner and say: "This man is not to be locked up again, He is to come with me.

  Franz Kafka

  Hate, Moving, Men

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• I was observing her closely as I talked, and after a while I began to get the impression that she was not, in fact, quite so merry and smiling a girl as I had been led to believe at first. She seemed to be coiled in herself, as though with a secret she was jealously guarding. The deep-blue eyes moved too quickly about the room, never settling or resting on one thing for more than a moment; and over all her face, though so faint that they might not even have been there, those small downward lines of sorrow.

  Roald Dahl

  Girl, Believe, Eye

  Roald Dahl (1979). “Tales of the unexpected”

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• So when he touched me, it was deeper and slower than the wildfire, like the flow of molten rock far beneath the surface of the earth. Too deep to feel the heat of it, but it moved inexorably, changing the very foundations of the world with its advance.

  Stephenie Meyer

  Rocks, Foundation, World

  Stephenie Meyer (2009). “The Host”, p.471, Hachette UK

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• She stood by the tea-table in a light-coloured muslin gown, which had a good deal of pink about it. She looked as if she was not attending to the conversation, but solely busy with the tea-cups, among which her round ivory hands moved with pretty, noiseless, daintiness.

  Elizabeth Gaskell

  Light, Hands, Ivory

  Elizabeth Gaskell (2010). “The Complete Works of Elizabeth Gaskell (20+ Books)”, p.1418, BookCaps Study Guides

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• ...when all the openings were closed, then the worlds would all be restored to their proper relations with one another, Lyra’s Oxford and Will’s would lie over each other again, like transparent images on two sheets of film being moved closer and closer until they merged–although they would never truly touch.

  Philip Pullman

  Lying, Oxford, Two

  Philip Pullman (2007). “The Amber Spyglass”, Knopf Books for Young Readers

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• You moved my head so that it was lying in your lap. "Keep your eyes open," you said. "Stay with me." I tried. It felt like I was using every muscle in my face. But I did it. I saw you from upside down, your lips above my eyes and your eyes above my lips. "Talk to me," you said. My throat felt like it was closing up, as if my skin had swollen, making my throat a lump of solid flesh. I gripped your hand. "Keep watching me, then," you said. "Keep listening.

  Lucy Christopher

  Lying, Eye, Hands

  Lucy Christopher (2014). “Stolen”, p.223, Scholastic Inc.

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• The Assassin moved quietly from roof to roof until he was well away from the excitement around the Watch House. His movements could be called cat-like, except that he did not stop to spray urine up against things.

  Terry Pratchett

  Cat, House, Watches

  Terry Pratchett (2002). “Night watch”, Doubleday UK

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• For many years, Sierra had compared the Holy Spirit to the wind, as it said the the Bible, noting that it was always there, no matter how faint the breeze. The wind went where it wanted to go, and its path was easy to detect because it moved objects and people. But no one had ever seen the wind.

  Robin Jones Gunn

  Years, Wind, People

  Robin Jones Gunn (2009). “Sierra Jensen Collection”, p.89, Multnomah

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• What is it, Angel?" she said, starting up. "Have they come for me?" "Yes, dearest," he said. "They have come." "It is as it should be," she murmured. "Angel, I am almost glad—yes, glad! This happiness could not have lasted. It was too much. I have had enough; and now I shall not live for you to despise me!" She stood up, shook herself, and went forward, neither of the men having moved. "I am ready," she said quietly.

  Thomas Hardy

  Angel, Men, Starting Up

  Thomas Hardy (2016). “Tess of the d'Urbervilles: A Pure Woman”, p.484, Thomas Hardy

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• A pair of Blue Noses on the next bench glared their disapproval at Evie’s knee-length dress. Evie decided to give them a real show. She hiked her skirt and, humming jauntily, rolled down her stockings, exposing her legs. It had the desired effect on the Blue Noses, who moved down the platform, clucking about the “disgrace of the young.” She would not miss this place.

  Libba Bray

  Real, Blue, Giving

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