Bed Quotes - Page 27

• Hey. Not sure what’s going on-gonna go find out. Be careful and don’t do anything stupid. Don’t come after me-your better on your own. See you. F I sat on the edge of the bed, holding the note. Okay, so Fang had looked up vague in the dictionary and this was what it had said to write.

  James Patterson

  Stupid, Writing, Hey

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• I don't dare start thinking in the morning. I don't dare start thinking in the morning. If I thought thoughts in bed, Them thoughts would bust my head-- So I don't dare start thinking in the morning.

  Langston Hughes

  Morning, Thinking, Dare

  Langston Hughes (2004). “The Collected Works of Langston Hughes: Gospel plays, operas, and later dramatic works”, p.528, University of Missouri Press

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• Dear God, Tatiana prayed in bed that night, turning to the wall and pulling the white sheet and the thin brown blanket over herself. If You are there somewhere, please teach me how to hide what I never knew how to show.

  Paullina Simons

  Wall, Night, White

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• Don’t you, when strangers and friends come to call, straighten the cushions, kick the books under the bed and put away the letter you were writing? How many of us want any of us to see us as we really are? Isn’t the mirror hostile enough?

  Jeanette Winterson

  Book, Writing, Strangers And Friends

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• I've learned all I need to know to live under a bed.

  Charles M. Schulz

  Needs, I've Learned, Knows

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• What're you still doing up? You know all good little ninjas should be in bed, visions of homicidal sugarplums dancing in their heads.

  Rob Thurman

  Dancing, Vision, Littles

  Rob Thurman (2006). “Nightlife”, p.14, Penguin

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• Women beg me for it, and not the other way around." "Then you should go to one of them." "Oh, I will. When we return to London, I'm going to embark on a spree of orgiastic debauchery that won't end until someone is arrested for it. But in the meanwhile...do you truly expect that the two of us are going to share a bed tonight-and tomorrow night-as chastely as a pair of nuns on holiday?

  Lisa Kleypas

  Holiday, Night, Two

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• Dakota's head was stuck in his toga. He staggered around olike a Kool-Aid-stained ghost. "Um," Percy said, "should I wear my bed sheets?

  Rick Riordan

  Togas, Ghost, Aids

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• Sendak is in search of what he calls a "yummy death". William Blake set the standard, jumping up from his death bed at the last minute to start singing. "A happy death," says Sendak. "It can be done." He lifts his eyebrows to two peaks. "If you're William Blake and totally crazy.

  Maurice Sendak

  Crazy, Yummy, Jumping

  "Maurice Sendak: 'I refuse to lie to children'". Interview with Emma Brockes, www.theguardian.com. October 2, 2011.

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• And when thou art weary I'll find thee a bed, Of mosses and flowers to pillow thy head.

  John Keats

  Art, Flower, Moss

  John Keats (1818). “The Complete Works of John Keats”, p.172

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• There is a simple, logical explanation,' I said to myself. And because you never know who else is listening, I added, 'And there is nothing under the bed.'" --Dexter

  Jeff Lindsay

  Simple, Listening, Logical

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• I asked my schoolmate Mary to write a letter to me. She was funny and full of life. She liked to run around her empty house without any clothes on, even once she was too old for that. Nothing embarrassed her. I admired that so much, because everything embarrassed me, and that hurt me. She loved to jump on her bed. She jumped on her bed for so many years that one afternoon, while I watched her jump, the seams burst. Feathers filled the small room. Our laughter kept the feathers in the air. I thought about birds. Could they fly if there wasn’t someone, somewhere, laughing?

  Jonathan Safran Foer

  Running, Hurt, Laughter

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• It felt almost rude to ignore toe pretty white bed, but we just weren’t going to make it that far.

  Stephenie Meyer

  White, Rude, Toes

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• This city belongs to ghosts, to murderers, to sleepwalkers. Where are you, in what bed, in what dream?

  Marguerite Yourcenar

  Dream, Cities, Ghost

  Marguerite Yourcenar (1994). “Fires”, p.99, University of Chicago Press

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• Bryn ate her bagel in silence, and by the time she was finished, Liam had already neatly packed her overnight bag and loaded it in MacAllister's car. He even included a new dog bed for Mr. French to travel in confort. Lunch was in moducal little boxes. "I think he is Alfred." "Actually, I often wonder if he's Batman.

  Rachel Caine

  Dog, Thinking, Lunch

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• I had fun last night," I told Patch, flicking off my chin strap and handing over my helmet. "I'm officially on love with your sheets." "That the only thing you're in love with?" "Nope. Your mattress, too." Some smile crept into Patch's eyes. "My bed's an open invitation.

  Becca Fitzpatrick

  Fun, Eye, Night

  Becca Fitzpatrick (2013). “Silence”, p.433, Simon and Schuster

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• I just laid around in my bed, looking at the ceiling, and i smiled because it was a nice kind of quiet.

  Stephen Chbosky

  Nice, Ceilings, Quiet

  Stephen Chbosky (2012). “The Perks of Being a Wallflower”, p.112, Simon and Schuster

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• Lying in bed, half-covered by the blankets, I would drowsily ask why he had come to my door that night long ago. It had become a ritual for us, as it does for all lovers: where, when, why? remember...I understand even old people rehearse their private religion of how they first loved, most guarded of secrets. And he would answer, sleep blurring his words, "Because I had to." The question and the answer were always the same. Why? Because I had to.

  Margaret George

  Lying, Sleep, Night

  Margaret George (2010). “The Memoirs of Cleopatra: A Novel”, p.751, Macmillan

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• He was in blue jeans and a work shirt, which is another weird quirk of Rich Old Men. Just one of the guys here. Blue jeans and a work shirt, salt of the earth, working man like yourself. Like they're somehow uncomfortable about being rich enough to sleep in a bed made of vaginas being pulled around the town at night by a fleet of gold-covered midgets.

  Warren Ellis

  Sleep, Night, Men

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• Daily dawns another day; I must up, to make my way. Though I dress and drink and eat, Move my fingers and my feet, Learn a little, here and there, Weep and laugh and sweat and swear, Hear a song, or watch a stage, Leave some words upon a page, Claim a foe, or hail a friend- Bed awaits me at the end.

  Dorothy Parker

  Song, Moving, Sweat

  Dorothy Parker (1944). “Dorothy Parker”

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• Go to bed," he ordered. "Go to bed... and stay there.

  Cindy Gerard

  Cindy Gerard (2007). “To the Edge”, p.174, Macmillan

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• How does this whole guardian angel business work? Am I the only person who can see you? I mean, are you invisible to everyone else?" Patch stared at me like he hoped I wasn't serious.    "You're not invisible?" I squeaked. "You have to get out of here!" I made a movement to push Patch off the bed but was cut short by a searing jab in my ribs. "She'll kill me if she finds you in here. Can you climb trees? Tell me you can climb a tree!"    Patch grinned. "I can fly."    Oh. Right. Well, okay.

  Becca Fitzpatrick

  Mean, Angel, Cutting

  Becca Fitzpatrick (2013). “The Complete Hush, Hush Saga: includes Hush, Hush; Crescendo; Silence and Finale”, p.271, Simon and Schuster

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• She'd slept terribly the night before. The room, the bed, were both comfortable enough, but she'd been plagued with strange dreams, the sort that lingered upon waking but slithered away from memory as she tried to grasp them. Only the tendrils of discomfort remained.

  Kate Morton

  Dream, Memories, Night

  Kate Morton (2010). “The Kate Morton Collection: The House at Riverton and The Forgotten Garden”, p.706, Simon and Schuster

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• I hate a mystery. I would have let the identity of the Commander’s successor remain a secret, as I have for fifteen years, but tonight’s opportunity was too tempting. With eight drunken Generals sleeping it off, I could have danced on their beds without waking them." - Valek

  Maria V. Snyder

  Hate, Sleep, Opportunity

  Maria V. Snyder (2012). “Poison Study”, p.192, Harlequin

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• But for now, I just sat there on the bed and listened to my song. The one that had been written for me by a man who knew me not at all, now sung by the one who knew me best.

  Sarah Dessen

  Song, Men, Sat

  Sarah Dessen (2004). “This Lullaby”, p.231, Penguin

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