Wrists Quotes - Page 2

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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Yours is... il sent comme lavande." Is that French for 'You stink'?" It means 'lavender'." Huh." She sniffed at her wrist. "I thought I smelled more like a grape Popsicle.

Lynn Viehl

Mean, Lavender, Grapes

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My wrist deserve a shout out, 'I'm like what up wrist?' My stove deserve a shout out, 'I'm like what up stove?'

2 Chainz

Stoves, Shout Out, Deserve

Song: Fork, 2013

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He was afraid of touching his own wrist. He never attempted to sleep on his left side, even in those dismal hours of the night when the insomniac longs for a third side after trying the two he has.

Vladimir Nabokov

Sleep, Night, Insomnia

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You sound as if you don't mind what happens to it," said Tessa. "Won't you miss it here? This place has been your home." His fingers stroked her wrist lightly, making her shiver. "You are home for me now.

Cassandra Clare

Home, Missing, Mind

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A really good picture looks as if it's happened at once. It's an immediate image. For my own work, when a picture looks labored and overworked, and you can read in it as well - she did this and then she did that; there is something in it that has not got to do with beautiful art to me. And I usually throw these out, though I think very often it takes ten of those over-labored efforts to produce one really beautiful wrist motion that is synchronized with your head and heart, and you have it, and therefore it looks as if it were born in a minute.

Helen Frankenthaler

Beautiful, Art, Thinking

"Frankenthaler". Book by Barbara Rose, 1970.

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In the middle of a wrist's suicide slash-line, below the layered skin and above the pulse, there's an acupuncture point that says, “Get back to who you were meant to be.”

Monica Drake

Suicide, Skins, Pulse

Monica Drake (2013). “Clown Girl: A Novel”, p.47, Hawthorne Books

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I held her wrists and then I got it through the eyes: hatred, centuries deep and true. I was wrong and graceless and sick. all the things I had learned had been wasted. there was no creature living as foul as I and all my poems were false.

Charles Bukowski

Eye, Sick, Hatred

Charles Bukowski, “I'm In Love”

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She had witnessed the world's most beautiful things, and allowed herself to grow old and unlovely. She had felt the heat of a leviathan's roar, and the warmth within a cat's paw. She had conversed with the wind and had wiped soldier's tears. She had made people see, she'd seen herself in the sea. Butterflies had landed on her wrists, she had planted trees. She had loved, and let love go. So she smiled.

Sonya Hartnett

Beautiful, Butterfly, Cat

Sonya Hartnett (2011). “The Ghost's Child”, p.140, ReadHowYouWant.com

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I felt a strange tightness coming over me, and I reacted instinctively – for the first time in a long, long while – by slipping my notebook into my belt and reaching down to take off my watch. The first thing to go in a street fight is your watch, and once you’ve lost a few, you develop a certain instinct that lets you know when it’s time to get the thing off your wrist and into a safe pocket.

Hunter S. Thompson

Notebook, Fighting, Long

Hunter S. Thompson (2012). “Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail '72”, p.364, Simon and Schuster

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In the world I see you are stalking elk through the damp canyon forests around the ruins of Rock feller Center. You'll wear leather clothes that will last you the rest of your life. You'll climb the wrist-thick kudzu vines that wrap the Sears Towers. And when you look down, you'll see tiny figures pounding corn, laying stripes of venison on the empty car pool lane of some abandoned superhighways.

Chuck Palahniuk

Clothes, Rocks, Car

"Fight Club". www.imdb.com. 1999.

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Sleephackers go to bed with sensors on their wrists and foreheads and maintain detailed electronic sleep diaries, which they often share online. To shift between sleep phases, sleephackers experiment with various diets, room and body temperatures, and kinds of pre-sleep physical exercise.

Evgeny Morozov

Sleep, Exercise, Bed

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My father used to always say to me that, you know, if a guy goes out to steal a loaf of bread to feed his family, they'll give him 10 years, but a guy can do white-collar crime and steal the money of thousands and he'll get probation and a slap on the wrist.

Jesse Ventura

Father, Years, White

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I got this Jesus tattoo on my wrist when I was 18 because I know that it's always going to be a part of me. When I'm playing, it's staring right back at me, saying, 'Remember where you came from.'

Katy Perry

Tattoo, Jesus, Remember Where You Came

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Where does the hand become the wrist?
where does the neck become the shoulder? The watershed
and then the weight, whatever turns up and tips us over that
razor's edge
between something and nothing, between
one and the other.

Simon Armitage

Hands, Doe, Weight

Simon Armitage (2005). “The Shout: Selected Poems”, Houghton Mifflin

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My mom had a soft heart after all! Instead of being chained by both wrists, we were only chained by one ankle! I mean, if I’d been looking for proof that she really did love me, this was it, right?

James Patterson

Mom, Heart, Mean

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I know this is your hand now,' she tells him. "Roland would have never touched me like that." Connor smiles, and Risa takes a moment to look down at the shark on his wrist. It holds no fear for her now, because the shark has been tamed by the soul of a boy. No- the soul of a man.

Neal Shusterman

Boys, Men, Sharks

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I read in the paper that I'd slashed my wrists. But I didn't.

Gail Porter

Paper, Reading Books

"Q: Aren't you too brainy to be a TV presenter? A: Too brainy? That's why all my hair fell out" by Emma Brockes, www.theguardian.com. November 7, 2005.

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Censure is a limp noodle across the wrist of the president. I think the way we vote on the articles will express the way we feel stronger than any censure vote.

Larry Craig

Thinking, President, Stronger

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In badminton, they use a lot from the wrist. But I use a lot from the shoulder.

Li Na

Use, Badminton, Shoulders

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Boys are just boys after all, but sometimes girls really seem to be the turn of a pale wrist, or the sudden jut of a hip, or a clutch of very dark hair falling across a freckled forehead. I'm not saying that's what they really are. I'm just saying sometimes it seems that way, and that those details (a thigh mole, a full face flush, a scar the precise shape and size of a cashew nut) are so many hooks waiting to land you.

Zadie Smith

Girl, Fall, Dark

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Still, when all is said, somewhere one must belong: even the soaring falcon returns to its master's wrist.

Truman Capote

Return, Masters, Said

Truman Capote (2012). “Summer Crossing: A Novel”, p.87, Modern Library

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I'm a winter girl. I like coming out when things are desolate and everybody's ready to slit their wrists.

Tori Amos

Girl, Winter, Coming Out

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….he grabs my wrists and pins my arms up above my head, locking them in one hand. "Are you mine?" he asks gruffly, as his hand returns between my thighs and briefly enters me. I gasp. Undone. Delirious. "I'm yours." His expression is tense, ravenous, so hot as he scrapes his finger deep into my channel. "Do you want me inside you?" My need clogs my windpipe as pleasure shoots down my legs. "I want you everywhere. All over me. Inside me.

Katy Evans

Expression, Hands, Legs

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When I came out publicly, some photo editors had a field day searching for pictures of me with a limp wrist or some other stereotypical gay signifier - as though, after decades in the public eye, they'd suddenly come across a trove of shots where I looked like a Cher impersonator.

James McGreevey

Eye, Gay, Editors

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