Skins Quotes - Page 28

• and her skin shone luminous and impossibly pale, as if it drank light from the moon.

  Madeline Miller

  Moon, Light, Pale

  Madeline Miller (2011). “The Song of Achilles”, p.58, A&C Black

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• Strangely, what pierced his heart and mind most sharply was not the memory of her lips under his at the ball, but the way she had leaned into his neck, as if she trusted him utterly. He would have given everything he had in the world and everything he would ever have, just to lie beside her in the narrow infirmary bed and hold her while she slept. Pulling away from her had been like pulling his own skin off, but he'd had to do it.

  Cassandra Clare

  Memories, Lying, Heart

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• The lion has to stay outside" "He won't like it" The lion shook his mane. I looked at Curran. The lion melted. Skin stretched, bones twisted, and human Curran straightened. He was completely nude. Gloriously nude. "Well," Hrefna said. "I always wondered why you went all shapeshifter. Explain things.

  Ilona Andrews

  Lions, Bones, Twisted

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• Finally getting control of myself, I kissed her again, then brought my hand to her face, gently running my fingers over her cheek. I marveled at the softness of her skin, the gentleness I saw in her eyes. Even now she was perfect.

  Nicholas Sparks

  Running, Eye, Hands

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• I wonder about death, I who may never know it. It looks much like ecstacy, the way they open their mouths as they drown, the way their fingers dig into your skin. Their eyes are wide and startled and they trash in your hands as though with an excess of passion.

  Holly Black

  Passion, Eye, Hands

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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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• People lose fifty million skin cells every day. The cells get scraped off and turn into invisible dust, and disappear into the air. Maybe we are nothing but skin cells as far as the world is concerned.

  Haruki Murakami

  Air, Cells, Dust

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• I have to figure out why I worked at a job I hated for years. I have to find out why I can’t see what everyone else sees in me. I don’t feel beautiful. When I look in the mirror, I never saw beautiful. For this to happen to someone like me, it’s devastating, Jonas. I don’t want you to think it’s vanity, it isn’t. I can’t see me and I need to be able to do that. I need to find out what I’m like and what I want. I have to be comfortable in my own skin before I can be in a relationship the way you want.

  Christine Feehan

  Beautiful, Jobs, Thinking

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• When I think back about my immediate reaction to that redheads girl, it seems to spring from an appreciation of natural beauty. I mean the heart pleasure you get from looking at speckled leaves or the palimpsested bark of plane trees in Provence. There was something richly appealing to her color combination, the ginger snaps floating in the milk-white skin, the golden highlights in the strawberry hair. it was like autumn, looking at her. It was like driving up north to see the colors.

  Jeffrey Eugenides

  Girl, Appreciation, Spring

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• glancing back I got my first clear look at the monster. He was seven feet tall, easy, his arms and legs like something from the cover of Muscle Man magazine-bulging biceps and triceps and a bunch of other 'ceps, all stuffed like baseballs under vein-webbed skin. He wore no clothes except underwear-I mean, bright white fruit of the Looms.

  Rick Riordan

  Baseball, Mean, Men

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• What's wrong with men?" Tenar inquired cautiously. As cautiously, lowering her voice, Moss replied, "I don't know, my dearie. I've thought on it. Often I've thought on it. The best I can say it is like this. A man's in his skin, see, like a nut in its shell." She held up her long, bent, wet fingers as if holding a walnut. "It's hard and strong, that shell, and it's all full of him. Full of grand man-meat, man-self. And that's all. That's all there is. It's all him and nothing else, inside.

  Ursula K. Le Guin

  Strong, Men, Self

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• Fashion is only different skins for different flavours of you.

  Lauren Beukes

  Fashion, Different, Flavour

  Lauren Beukes (2010). “Zoo City”, p.123, Jacana Media

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• I'm mesmerized by the way his fingers move confidently along her skin, as though her body is his to reat and touch and tend to. She was mine before she was yours: The words are there, unexpectedly, surging from my throat to my tongue. I swallow them back.

  Lauren Oliver

  Moving, Body, Way

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• Haldir had gone on and was now climbing to the high flet. As Frodo prepared to follow him, he laid his hand upon the tree beside the ladder: never before had he been so suddenly and so keenly aware of the feel and texture of a tree's skin and of the life within it. He felt a delight in wood and the touch of it, neither as forester nor as carpenter; it was the delight of the living tree itself.

  J. R. R. Tolkien

  Climbing, Hands, Tree

  J.R.R. Tolkien (2012). “The Lord of the Rings: One Volume”, p.248, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

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• The question of what we are can only be answered by ourselves. We each decide what we are by the life choices we make. How we were made, who are parents are, where we are from, the color of our skin, who we choose to love, all those things do not define us. Our actions define us, and will keep defining us until even after death.

  P. C. Cast

  Color, Choices, Parent

  P. C. Cast, Kristin Cast (2011). “Destined”, p.273, Macmillan

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• A woman with opinions had better develop a thick skin and a loud voice.

  Anya Seton

  Inspirational, Loud Voices, Opinion

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• He was afraid that the secrets she'd kept would always be here, inside him, an ugly malignant thing lodged near enough to his heart to upset its rhythm, and though it could be removed, cut out, there would always be scars; bits and pieces of it would remain in his blood, making it wrong somehow, so that if he accidentally sliced his skin open, his blood would--for one heartbeat--flow as black as India ink before it remembered that it should be red.

  Kristin Hannah

  Heart, Cutting, Blood

  Kristin Hannah (2013). “Kristin Hannah's Family Matters 4-Book Bundle: Angel Falls, Between Sisters, The Things We Do for Love, Magic Hour”, p.157, Ballantine Books

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• Tell me that you don’t take that blade and drag it across your skin and pray for the courage to press down.

  Susanna Kaysen

  Girl Interrupted, Praying, Blades

  "Girl, Interrupted". www.imdb.com. December 8, 1999.

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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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• 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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