Skins Quotes - Page 9

• 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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• With his sunglasses gone and his scarf hanging down, there was no denying that he had no flesh, he had no skin, he had no eyes and he had no face. All he had was a skull for a head.

  Derek Landy

  Eye, Skulls, Sunglasses

  Derek Landy (2013). “Skulduggery Pleasant:”, p.26, HarperCollins UK

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• I stopped. She was bleeding after all. Perfect lines crossed her wrists, not near any crucial veins, but enough to leave wet red tracks across her skin. She hadn;t hit her veins when she did this; death hadn't been her goal.

  Richelle Mead

  Track, Perfect, Goal

  Richelle Mead (2007). “Vampire Academy”, p.158, Penguin

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• Except...I do. Of course I do. Because as his hands gently cup my waist, I don't make a sound. As he swivels me around to face him, I don't make a sound. I don't need to. We're still talking. Every touch he makes, every imprint of his skin is like another word, another thought, a continuation of our conversation. And we're not done yet. Not yet.

  Sophie Kinsella

  Hands, Talking, Sound

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• Within the mystery of life there is the infinite darkness of the night sky lit by distant orbs of fire, the cobbled skin of an orange that releases its fragrance to our touch, the unfathomable depths of the eyes of our lover. No creation story, no religious system can fully describe or explain this richness and depth. Mystery is so every-present that no one can know for certain what will happen one hour from now. “ It does not matter whether you have religion or are an agnostic believe in nothing, You can only appreciate (without knowing or understanding) the mysteries of life.

  Jack Kornfield

  Religious, Believe, Eye

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• Zach,” I said as I lay there “Where did you go? When you were looking for me?” I shifted in his arms, looked into his eyes. “Crazy.” His voice was a whisper against my skin. “I went crazy.

  Ally Carter

  Crazy, Eye, Voice

  Ally Carter (2012). “Gallagher Girls: Out of Sight, Out of Time”, p.154, Hachette UK

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• A girl came in the cafe and sat by herself at a table near the window. She was very pretty with a face fresh as a newly minted coin if they minted coins in smooth flesh with rain-freshened skin, and her hair black as a crow's wing and cut sharply and diagonally across her cheek.

  Ernest Hemingway

  Girl, Rain, Cutting

  Ernest Hemingway (2014). “The Hemingway Collection”, p.424, Simon and Schuster

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• Then it’s just Venia, whose skin is so pale her tattoos appear to be leaping off it. Almost rigid with determination, she does my hair and nails and makeup, fingers flying swiftly to compensate for her absent teammates. The whole time, she avoids my gaze. It’s only when Cinna shows up to approve me and dismiss her that she takes my hands, looks me straight in the eye, and says, “We would all like you to know what a…privilege it has been to make you look your best.” Then she hastens from the room.

  Suzanne Collins

  Tattoo, Determination, Eye

  Suzanne Collins (2011). “The Hunger Games Trilogy”, p.800, Scholastic Inc.

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• Peeta crouches down on the other side of her and strokes her hair. When he begins to speak in a soft voice, it seems almost nonsensical, but the words aren’t for me. “With my paint box at home, I can make every color imaginable. Pink. As pale as a baby’s skin. Or as deep as rhubarb. Green like spring grass. Blue that shimmers like ice on water.

  Suzanne Collins

  Baby, Spring, Home

  Suzanne Collins (2010). “Catching Fire (The Second Book of the Hunger Games)”, p.312, Scholastic Inc.

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• What I'm trying to describe is that it's impossible to get out of your skin into somebody else's.... That somebody else's tragedy is not the same as your own.

  Diane Arbus

  Photography, Tragedy, Trying

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• I could really appreciate him now - could properly see every beautiful line of his perfect face, of his long, flawless body with my strong new eyes, every angle and every plane of him. I could taste his pure, vivid scent on my tongue and feel the unbelievable silkiness of his marble skin under my sensitive fingertips.

  Stephenie Meyer

  Beautiful, Strong, Eye

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• What does kiciciyapi mitawa mean?" He kept his head on her breasts. "What?" "You called me kicicyapi mitawa. It sounded so beautiful. It wasn't Japanese. What was it?" "It's the voice of the Lakota. It would sound silly in English." He cupped her breast, his fingers moving lightly over her skin. His breath warm on her heart. "I want to know. It didn't sound silly when you said it. It sounded...beautiful. It made me feel beautiful. And loved." He kissed her breast. "I called you my heart. And you are.

  Christine Feehan

  Beautiful, Silly, Moving

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• He shifted his weight, throwing his good leg off the bed as if he were going to try to stand. “What are you doing?” I demanded through the tears. “Lie down, you idiot, you’ll hurt yourself!” I jumped to my feet and pushed his good shoulder down with two hands. He surrendered, leaning back with a gasp of pain, but he grabbed me around my waist and pulled me down on the bed, against his good side. I curled up there, trying to stifle the silly sobs against his hot skin.

  Stephenie Meyer

  Hurt, Pain, Lying

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• Dauntless,' he says. 'I was born for Abnegation. I was planning on leaving Dauntless, and becoming factionless. But then I met her, and...I felt like maybe I could make something more of my decision.' Her. For a moment, it's like I'm looking at a different person, sitting in Tobias's skin, one whose life is not as simple as I thought. He wanted to leave Dauntless, but he stayed because of me. He never told me that.

  Veronica Roth

  Simple, Decision, Leaving

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• I felt angry, frustrated. I felt I didn't belong, not in my church, not in my home, not in my skin. Amidst the chaos, i felt alone, in need of a friend instead of a sister, someone detached from my world. The "woman's role" theory disgusted me. I would soon be a woman, and I knew I could never perform as expected. I was tired of my mom's submission to her religion, to her husband's sick quest for an heir, to his abuse. I was sick of my dad, of reaching for him as he fell farther away from us and into the arms of Johnnie WB.

  Ellen Hopkins

  Mom, Husband, Dad

  Ellen Hopkins (2013). “Burned”, p.67, Simon and Schuster

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• No, not like this, when I have not seen you without your skin on, when I know nothing, when I am not safe. Not you, whose name all my nightmares know.

  Catherynne M. Valente

  Names, Safe, Nightmare

  Catherynne M. Valente (2011). “Deathless”, p.56, Macmillan

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• He flushed, the colour dark against his pale skin. 'I mean. Tessa Gray, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?' Jem.

  Cassandra Clare

  Mean, Dark, Pale Skin

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• I remember that feeling of skin. It's strange to remember touch more than thought. But my fingers still tingle with it.

  Lucy Christopher

  Feelings, Strange, Remember

  Lucy Christopher (2014). “Stolen”, p.12, Scholastic Inc.

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• He froze, and for one moment, we stood locked in time. I could feel the silk of his shirt against my skin and the warmth of his body. The lingering scent of the overpriced cologne he wore floated around me. No smoke for a change. I’d always told him the cologne couldn’t be worth what he spent, but suddenly, I reconsidered. It was amazing.

  Richelle Mead

  Body, Scent, Moments

  Richelle Mead (2012). “The Golden Lily: A Bloodlines Novel”, p.165, Penguin

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• Eyes open, then," I say, tapping the skin between my eyebrows. I don’t really need her eyes to be on mine, but I feel better when they are.

  Veronica Roth

  Eye, Feel Better, Needs

  Veronica Roth (2013). “Free Four - Tobias tells the Divergent Knife-Throwing Scene”, p.7, HarperCollins UK

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• Velius--so who is she? no wait, let me guess. skin of the finest porcelain. hair of the softest silk. a voice like birdsong, a smile like sunshine, and a mouth that would sate your brightest and darkest wishes Rumbold-- You've m-met her? Velius--oh yes, my friend. we all know her. we've all pursued her. some of us have even been lucky enough to have her. we've been drunk on her sin, become fools of her favor. she might have borne a different face each time, but her name was always the same. Trouble

  Alethea Kontis

  Sunshine, Hair, Names

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• There's more than one way to skin a cat, my father used to say; it bothered me, I didn't see why they would want to skin a cat even one way.

  Margaret Atwood

  Father, Cat, Want

  Margaret Atwood (2012). “Surfacing”, p.144, Simon and Schuster

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• I closed my eyes and he kissed my eyelids, barely brushing them with his lips. I felt safe, at home. I felt as if here, against his body, was the only place in which I belonged. The only place I had ever wanted to be. We lay in silence for a while, holding each other, our skin merging, our breathing synchronized. I felt as if silence might allow the moment to last for ever, which would still not be enough.

  S.J. Watson

  Home, Eye, Breathing

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• I will howl for you, human boy (...). I will hunt you in my girl skin but I'll celebrate as wolf.

  Annette Curtis Klause

  Girl, Boys, Celebrate

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• A great man once wrote, "Absence diminishes small loves and increases great ones, as the wind blows out the candle and blows up the bonfire." If only I were as eloquent as Mr. de la Rochefoucauld...I miss you, I miss you, I miss you. And I want you. And I need your kiss. And your touch on my skin like a man needs water. Always.

  Karen White

  Kissing, Blow, Men

  Karen White (2010). “On Folly Beach”, p.38, Penguin

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