Skins Quotes - Page 11

• Comparatively, tattooing is not the hideous custom which it is called. It is not barbarous merely because the printing is skin-deep and unalterable.

  Henry David Thoreau

  Printing, Skin Deep, Customs

  Henry David Thoreau (1882). “Walden”, p.44

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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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• Things have been a mess for so many years that trying to pin down a starting point is like trying to figure out where your skin starts.

  Jonathan Tropper

  Years, Trying, Pins

  Jonathan Tropper (2012). “One Last Thing Before I Go: A Novel”, p.11, Penguin

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• Do you know, Mother, that Haj Salem was buried alive in his home? Does he tell you stories in heaven now? I wish I had had a chance to meet him. To see his toothless grin and touch his leathery skin. To beg him, as you did in your youth, for a story from our Palestine. He was over one hundred years old, Mother. To have lived so long, only to be crushed to death by a bulldozer. Is this what it means to be Palestinian?

  Susan Abulhawa

  Mother, Home, Mean

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• What are they waiting to see?" Sam follows my gaze and I shrug. "Who knows? You could always do a dance, or tell a joke, or... kiss the bride?" "Not the bride," he wraps his arms around me, and gradually pulls me close. Our noses are practically touching. I can see right into his eyes. I can feel the warmth of his skin. "you." Me. "The girl who stole my phone." His lips brush across the corner of my mouth. "The thief." "It was in a bin." "Still stealing." "No it isn't-," I begin. But now his mouth is firmly on mine, and I can't speak at all. And suddenly, life is good.

  Sophie Kinsella

  Girl, Eye, Life Is Good

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• Simon stopped breathing until her forefinger touched his nipple, and then his hand shot up to cover hers. "I want you," he said. Her eyes flicked downward, and her lips curved ever so slightly. "I know." "No," he groaned, pulling her closer. "I want to be in your heart. I want-" His entire body shuddered when their skin touched. "I want to be in your soul.

  Julia Quinn

  Heart, Eye, Hands

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• It's like he has emotional amnesia... I think you have to accept that the person you knew isn't there at the moment. I was witness to how much he loved you. I have the photos. This isn't the person we knew. I don't recognize this person. He's shed his skin." Her heart is broken too. She has to say the thing that will give me back my life. She draws on every reserve. I see how much it hurts her and it hurts me too. I came from her joy and her pain, I lived in it and I live in it now.

  Emma Forrest

  Hurt, Pain, Heart

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• Age is a peculiar kind of thief. It slips up on you and steps inside your skin and is so quiet and methodical in its work that you never realize it has stolen your youth until you look into the mirror one morning and see a man you don't recognize.

  James Lee Burke

  Morning, Men, Mirrors

  James Lee Burke (2013). “Creole Belle: A Dave Robicheaux Novel”, p.229, Simon and Schuster

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• I see a few hands stretching out to me at the edge of the net, so I grabbed the first one I could reach and pull myself across. I roll off, and would have fallen face-first onto a wood floor if he had not caught me. "He" is the young man attached to the hand I grabbed. He has a spare upper lip and a full lower lip. His eyes are so deep-set that his eyelashes touch the skin under his eyebrows, and they are dark blue, a dreaming, sleeping, waiting color.

  Veronica Roth

  Dream, Sleep, Eye

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• I hear footsteps and Four's hands wrap around my wrists. I let him pry my hands from my eyes. He encloses one of my hands perfectly between two of his. The warmth of his skin overwhelms the ache in my fingers from holding the bars. "You all right?" he asks, pressing our hands together. "Yeah." He starts to laugh.

  Veronica Roth

  Eye, Hands, Two

  Veronica Roth (2014). “Divergent Series Ultimate Four-Book Collection: Divergent; Insurgent; Allegiant; Four”, p.75, Harper Collins

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• All right people, listen up! If you've got a family back home waiting for you or if you just want to save your own skin, turn around and walk away. Also, women! I have no intention of fighting any women!

  Hiromu Arakawa

  Home, Fighting, People

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• I have learned that real angels don't have gossamer white robes and Cherubic skin, they have calloused hands and smell of the days' sweat.

  Richard Paul Evans

  Real, Angel, Hands

  FaceBook post by Richard Paul Evans from Dec 05, 2011

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• If there is any human tragedy, there is only one, and it occurs when we forget who we are and remain silent while a stranger takes up residence inside our skin.

  James Lee Burke

  Tragedy, Who We Are, Forget

  James Lee Burke (2011). “The Glass Rainbow: A Dave Robicheaux Novel”, p.147, Simon and Schuster

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• Tamaki: A girl should only show skin once she's married, not before!!!

  Bisco Hatori

  Girl, Married, Should

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• There's a power that comes with silence. I had grown to fear the unsaid thing. So it felt like a release to say it-to admit that the risk wasn't just inside our walls-it was inside my skin. I was willing to claw, scratch, and bleed until I'd found it.

  Ally Carter

  Wall, Silence, Risk

  Ally Carter (2012). “Gallagher Girls: Out of Sight, Out of Time”, p.53, Hachette UK

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• He's helped me a lot over the years." "I'm sure he has. You scratch his back. He scratches yours." "I have skin allergies. I'm itchy.

  Darynda Jones

  Years, Allergies, Scratches

  Darynda Jones (2013). “Fifth Grave Past the Light”, p.117, Macmillan

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• Things she knew now, that she hadn't known two hours ago: Park was covered with skin. Everywhere.

  Rainbow Rowell

  Two, Parks, Hours

  Rainbow Rowell (2016). “The Rainbow Rowell YA Collection”, p.225, St. Martin's Griffin

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• I stare at her collarbone that's framed with lace, the hollow of her throat, her shoulders that rise with each rise with the weight of her next breath. We're fragile things. Our bones show through our skin. What would any god want with us?

  Lauren DeStefano

  Weight, Want, Next

  FaceBook post by Lauren DeStefano from Apr 15, 2013

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• His fingers never ceased to amaze me. They could break a man's neck, bandage a wound, and slide sensually across bare skin.

  Richelle Mead

  Men, Slides, Necks

  Richelle Mead (2013). “Vampire Academy: The Complete Collection”, p.1332, Penguin

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• Give me your skin as sheer as a cobweb, let me open it up and listen in and scoop out the dark.

  Anne Sexton

  Dark, Giving, Cobwebs

  Anne Sexton (2001). “Transformations”, p.38, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

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• And there, row upon row, with the soft gleam of flowers opened at morning, with the light of this June sun glowing through a faint skin of dust, would stand the dandelion wine. Peer through it at the wintry day - the snow melted to grass, the trees were reinhabitated with bird, leaf, and blossoms like a continent of butterflies breathing on the wind. And peering through, color sky from iron to blue. Hold summer in your hand, pour summer in a glass, a tiny glass of course, the smallest tingling sip for children; change the season in your veins by raising glass to lip and tilting summer in

  Ray Bradbury

  Summer, Morning, Children

  Ray Bradbury (2012). “Dandelion Wine”, p.18, HarperCollins UK

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• Your humans slaughter each other because of the color of your skin, or your faith or your plitics -- or for no reason at all -- too many of you hate as easily as you draw breath. - Magneto

  Stan Lee

  Hate, Color, Reason

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• In some parallel universe, there was a Gansey who could tell Blue that he found the ten inches of her bare calves far more tantalizing than the thirteen cubic feet of bare skin Orla sported. But in this universe, that was Adam’s job. He was in a terrible mood.

  Maggie Stiefvater

  Jobs, Blue, Feet

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• Now I'm a warrior Now i've got thicker skin I'm a warrior I'm stronger than i've ever been And my amor Is made of steel you can't get in i'm a warrior And you can never hurt me again

  Demi Lovato

  Hurt, Warrior, Stronger

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• Adam was in the dream, too; he traced the tangled pattern of ink with his finger. He said, "Scio quid hoc est." As he traced it further and further down on the bare skin of Ronan's back, Ronan himself disappeared entirely, and the tattoo got smaller and smaller. It was a Celtic knot the size of a wafer, and then Adam, who had become Kavinsky, said "Scio quid estis vos." He put the tattoo in his mouth and swallowed it. Ronan woke with a start, ashamed and euphoric. The euphoria wore off long before the shame did. He was never sleeping again.

  Maggie Stiefvater

  Tattoo, Dream, Sleep

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