Warm Quotes - Page 18

• No, I like you alive and warm and wiggling.

  Charlaine Harris

  I Like You, Alive, Wiggling

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• And there you have it...if I knew that I could only have a few nights in that man's arms or nothing, I would take those magic nights and use them to keep me warm for the rest of my life.

  Karen Marie Moning

  Night, Men, Magic

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• He looks out into the empty street, allowing me to sit in his car and just miss her. To miss her each time I pull in a breath of air. To miss her with a heart that feels so cold by itself, but warm when thoughts of her flow through me.

  Jay Asher

  Heart, Air, Car

  Jay Asher (2011). “Thirteen Reasons Why”, p.219, Penguin

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• Then I speak to her in a language she has never heard, I speak to her in Spanish, in the tongue of the long, crepuscular verses of Díaz Casanueva; in that language in which Joaquín Edwards preaches nationalism. My discourse is profound; I speak with eloquence and seduction; my words, more than from me, issue from the warm nights, from the many solitary nights on the Red Sea, and when the tiny dancer puts her arm around my neck, I understand that she understands. Magnificent language!

  Pablo Neruda

  Night, Issues, Sea

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• It began as most thing begin. Not on a dark and stormy night. Not foreshadowed by ominous here comes the villain music, dire warning at the bottom of a teacup, or dread portents in the sky. It began small and innocuously, as most catastrophes do. A butterfly flaps its wings somewhere and the wind changes, and a warm front hits a cold front off the coast of western Africa and before you know it you’ve got an hurricane closing in. By the time anyone figured out the storm was coming, it was too late to do anything but batten down the hatches and exercise damage control.

  Karen Marie Moning

  Butterfly, Exercise, Dark

  FaceBook post by Karen Marie Moning from Jun 06, 2013

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• The cosy glow which had been enveloping the Duke became shot through by a sudden chill. It was as if he had been luxuriating in a warm shower bath, and some hidden hand had turned on the cold tap.

  P. G. Wodehouse

  War, Hands, Baths

  "Uncle Fred in the Springtime". Book by P. G. Wodehouse, 1939.

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• We could get kinky and see how bats and rats make love, he suggested in a whisper, warm breath against her neck. You are a sick man, Jacques. Very, very sick.

  Christine Feehan

  Men, Sick, Making Love

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• She laughed out loud, a warm, knowing laughter that made me once again wonder about the secret ingredient in these women’s lives. Whatever it was, I was clearly missing it. It was so much more than just self-confidence; it seemed to be the ability to love oneself, enthusiastically and unsparingly, body and soul, naturally followed by the assumption that every man on the planet is dying to get in on the act.

  Anne Fortier

  Laughter, Self Confidence, Men

  Anne Fortier (2012). “Juliet (Random House Reader's Circle Deluxe Reading Group Edition): A Novel”, p.168, Ballantine Books

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• Peppermint swirled into my nostrils, sharp as glass, then raspberry almost to sweet, like too-ripe fruit. Apple, crisp and pure. Nuts, buttery, warm, earthy

  Maggie Stiefvater

  Sweet, Glasses, Nuts

  Maggie Stiefvater (2011). “Shiver Trilogy (Shiver, Linger, Forever)”, p.208, Scholastic Inc.

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• She came awake, stomach rumbling, and opened her eyes to see a plate being held right under her nose. When she reached for it, Shane snatched it back. "Nuh-uh. Mine." "Share!" she demanded. "Man, you are one grabby girlfriend." She grinned. It always made her feel so fiercly warm inside to hear him say that- the girlfriend part, not the grabby part. "If you love me, you'll give me a taco." "Seriously? That's all you got? What about you'll do sexy, illegal things to me for a taco?" "Not for a taco," she said. "I'm not cheap." "They're brisket tacos." "Now you're talking.

  Rachel Caine

  Sexy, Girlfriend, Eye

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• I am here," Eric said. "And I am here." I was a little amused at Eric's phone answering technique. "Sookie, my little bullet-sucker," he said, sounding fond and warm. "Eric, my big bullshitter.

  Charlaine Harris

  Phones, Technique, Eric

  Charlaine Harris (2002). “Living Dead in Dallas: A Sookie Stackhouse Novel”, p.199, Penguin

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• Stale godliness is ungodliness. Let our religion be as warm, and constant, and natural as the flow of the blood in our veins. A living God must be served in a living way.

  Charles Spurgeon

  Blood, Veins, Way

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• Touching his hair, she leaned hesitantly forward, and he folded his arms around her, sinking into sensation again as they kissed--the slight weight of her on his lap, the smell of her. He glided his hands up the warm dip of her spine, felt her shiver and press closer. He could never get enough of this. Never.

  L.A. Weatherly

  Hair, Hands, Smell

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• Gently, I ran my hand across his chest, exploring it. My breath felt tight in my throat. He was so beautiful. His muscles were toned, defined, his skin warm and smooth. Stroking my palm up over the line of his collarbone, I felt the firmness of his shoulder, the strength of his bicep. I traced my fingers over the black AK, following the lines of the letters. Alex hardly moved as I touched him, his eyes never leaving me. Finally I sighed and dropped my hand. I tried to smile. "I've sort of been wanting to do that ever since that first night in the motel room," I admitted.

  L.A. Weatherly

  Beautiful, Eye, Night

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• Willow nestled against him. He smoothed her long hair down the back of her T-shirt, feeling its softness. In a few moments she fell asleep again, her breathing warm and regular against his chest. Alex kissed her head, his arms tightening around her. As he drifted back to sleep himself, he saw a brief flash of the thousands of angels streaming in, but right then it seemed distant, almost unimportant. The only thing that mattered was that he was lying in a bed holding Willow, their bare legs entwined. It was all he wanted to do for the rest of his life.

  L.A. Weatherly

  Lying, Angel, Sleep

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• We speak now or I do, and others do. You've never spoken before. You will. You'll be able to say how the city is a pit and a hill and a standard and an animal that hunts and a vessel on the sea and the sea and how we are fish in it, not like the man who swims weekly with fish but the fish with which he swims, the water, the pool. I love you, you light me, warm me, you are suns. You have never spoken before.

  China Mieville

  Love You, Animal, Men

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• There are people whose eyes you must avoid, whose attention you must not draw to yourself. They are strange, parasitic creatures, lost souls seeking to stretch across the abyss and make fatal contact with the warm, constant flow of humanity. They live in pain, and exist only to visit that pain on others. A random glance, the momentary lingering of a look, is enough to give them the excuse that they seek. Sometimes, it is better to keep your eyes on the gutter for the fear that, by looking up, you might catch a glimpse of them, black shapes against the sun, and be blinded forever.

  John Connolly

  Pain, Eye, People

  John Connolly (2015). “The Killing Kind: A Charlie Parker Thriller”, p.63, Simon and Schuster

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• When you looked up to the sky and cried 'Why?' sometimes the sky shrugged, yet other times it answered with warm assurance of linked hands.

  Libba Bray

  Hands, Sky, Sometimes

  Libba Bray (2011). “Beauty Queens”, p.206, Scholastic Inc.

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• Charity is only as warm as those who administer it.

  Dorothy Day

  Charity

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• Shane, in case we don’t … don’t come out of this, I wanted to say…” He glanced over at her, and she felt her whole body warm from it. She remembered that look. It made her feel naked inside and out, but not in a creepy kind of way. In a way that felt…. Free. “If what you say is true, and I guess it has to be, I think I know why we’re … together,” he said. “I think I’d fall for you no matter what, Claire. You’re kind of awesome.

  Rachel Caine

  Fall, Thinking, Creepy

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• The sky was electric blue above the trees but the yard felt dark. Stephanie went to the edge of the lawn and sat her forehead on her knees. The grass and soil were still warm from the day. She wanted to cry but she couldn't. The feeling was too deep.

  Jennifer Egan

  Dark, Blue, Sky

  Jennifer Egan (2010). “A Visit from the Goon Squad”, p.102, Anchor

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• Love or hatred calls for self-surrender. He cuts a fine figure, the warm-blooded, prosperous man, solidly entrenched in his well-being, who one fine day surrenders all to love—or to hatred; himself, his house, his land, his memories.

  Jean-Paul Sartre

  Memories, Cutting, Men

  Jean-Paul Sartre (1962). “Altona ; Men without shadows ; The flies”

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• You know" - Hale's breath was warm against Kat's ear in the chilly ballroom- "I don't know that both of us really have to be here...." The slide changed. While hundreds of mathematicians waited with baited breath, the boy beside Kat whispered, "I could go make some calls... check on some things..." "Play some blackjack?" "Well, when in Rome..." "Rome is tomorrow, babe," Kat reminded him. He nodded. "Right.

  Ally Carter

  Boys, Rome, Play

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• Poseidon held out his arms and gave me a hug. I realized, a little embarrassed, that I'd never actually hugged my dad before. He was warm—like a regular human—and he smelled of a salty beach and fresh sea air.

  Rick Riordan

  Beach, Dad, Sea

  Rick Riordan (2009). “Percy Jackson and the Last Olympian”, p.246, Penguin UK

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• June, July, all through the warm months she hibernated like a winter animal who did not know spring had come and gone.

  Truman Capote

  Spring, Winter, Animal

  Truman Capote (2012). “Breakfast at Tiffany's”, p.80, Vintage

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