Belted Shirt Quotes

If you want to have clean ideas, change them as often as your shirt. ~ Francis Picabia

I think that Americans, they love comfort more than Europeans. Americans created the T-shirt, the sweat pants, and they create the best sporting shoes. ~ Carine Roitfeld

When you think she deserves someone better? When you can't imagine being the one who actually gets to keep her? That's how you know you're the one who deserves her. Not some asshole in a puffy shirt carrying a sword. ~ Tessa Bailey

Slavery is not a horror safely confined to the past; it continues to exist throughout the world, even in developed countries like France and the United States. Across the world slaves work and sweat and build and suffer. Slaves in Pakistan may have made the shoes you are wearing and the carpet you stand on. Slaves in the Caribbean may have put sugar in your kitchen and toys in the hands of your children. In India they may have sewn the shirt on your back and polished the ring on your finger. They are paid nothing.

Slaves touch your life indirectly as well. They made the bricks for the factory that made the TV you watch. In Brazil slaves made the charcoal that tempered the steel that made the springs in your car and the blade on your lawnmower. Slaves grew the rice that fed the woman that wove the lovely cloth you've put up as curtains. Your investment portfolio and your mutual fund pension own stock in companies using slave labor in the developing world. Slaves keep your costs low and returns on your investments high. ~ Kevin Bales

It rarely snows because Antarctica is a desert. An iceberg means it's tens of millions of years old and has calved from a glacier. (This is why you must love life: one day you're offering up your social security number to the Russia Mafia; two weeks later you're using the word calve as a verb.) I saw hundreds of them, cathedrals of ice, rubbed like salt licks; shipwrecks, polished from wear like marble steps at the Vatican; Lincoln Centers capsized and pockmarked; airplane hangars carved by Louise Nevelson; thirty-story buildings, impossibly arched like out of a world's fair; white, yes, but blue, too, every blue on the color wheel, deep like a navy blazer, incandescent like a neon sign, royal like a Frenchman's shirt, powder like Peter Rabbit's cloth coat, these icy monsters roaming the forbidding black. ~ Maria Semple

This is new. Old Quinn would not have worn a skirt on her first day of sophomore year. Old Quinn would have worn a pair of jeans (hole in the knee? even better) and a t-shirt advertising the Providence Prep volleyball team, or some other sports team I didn't play for. ~ Selena Brooks

I said, ask."
"Nicely?" Justin enquired.
"I doubt you're capable of nicely outside the seance room."
Justin bared his teeth, then let himself go languid in the chair, raising his arms behind his head. "Oh, Mr. Roy," he murmured through a shameless pout. "Please, sir, I've the wickedest spirits upon me. I'm quite at their mercy." He hooked a leg behind one of Nathaniel's powerful thighs. "I can't help myself, sir, I'm consumed by their influences." He tugged Nathaniel's hand to his chest, sliding his fingers between shirt buttons. "Oh! Oh, sir, is it a spirit hand I can feel on me?"
"If you don't stop talking like that - "
"Please sir, drive them out of me," Justin begged. "I can't control myself."
"Are you going to stop it?"
"I can't," Justin panted. "I'm a slave to the lower spirits. Oh, the things they want me to do to you. Filthy, terrible things, sir. ~ K.J. Charles

Once when I was golfing in Georgia, I hooked the ball into the swamp. I went in after it and found an alligator wearing a shirt with a picture of a little golfer on it. ~ Buddy Hackett

This book is destined to make waves no matter which ocean you throw it into. This is the first book Jarod's put together, mainly because he had such a hard time figuring out how to glue the pages to the spine. You'll laugh as you explore the mind of a madman as he emails seemingly random companies and institutions about bizarre things, and strange suggestions. With his surreal thoughts and ideas, Jarod paints a picture so vividly in the reader's mind that they'd think he was actually using their gray matter as a canvas. But don't worry, you can read this knowing that he will not spill paint on your favorite shirt. If laughing were a buffet, you'll eat so much with this book that you'll throw up. I recommend you read this book over a toilet. ~ Jarod Kintz

Imagine that you are agonizing over a choice - which career to pursue, whether to get married, how to vote, what to wear that day. You have finally staggered to a decision when the phone rings. It is the identical twin you never knew you had. During the joyous conversation it comes out that she has just chosen a similar career, has decided to get married at around the same time, plans to cast her vote for the same presidential candidate, and is wearing a shirt of the same color - just as the behavioral geneticists who tracked you down would have bet. How much discretion did the "you" making the choices actually have if the outcome could have been predicted in advance, at least probabilistically, based on events that took place in your mother's Fallopian tubes decades ago? ~ Steven Pinker

Justin stirred, smiling even before his eyes were open. "Well, hello. This person reaching up my shirt better be who I think it is, or I'm gonna freak out."
Celeste pulled her hand away quickly. "Sorry."
"Oh good, it is you," he murmured. "Why is there stopping? Why is there no more hand being all cute and awesome? ~ Jessica Park

You should have worn a baby pink t-shirt on which a child sucks his thumb. That would have given you the required juvenile look.

~ Subhangi Tyagi ~ Kirtida Gautam

There she was, lying on a single bed in a room so small that there wasn't even space for a chair, and the first thing that struck him was that she was beautiful. She had lost too much weight - her long legs were too thin in greasy jeans and her upper body looked as frail as a bird's under a greasy workman's shirt - but her pale and famished face, with its great blue eyes and delicate, thin-lipped mouth, made her look like the heartbreaking debutante her mother might always have wanted her to be. ~ Richard Yates

Since I was a child, I hated having to deal with my hair. I hated having to change my clothes. As a kid, I had a sailor shirt and the same old corduroy pants, and that's what I wanted to wear everyday. ~ Patti Smith

Being a footballer is not just about wearing the shirt and playing football on the pitch. You have to be clean, you have to do right things, you have to show courage, you have to show many many things you know. I always say that you play the same way on the pitch as you do in life. ~ Emmanuel Petit

Then Toraf opens the passenger side door…Wait. That's not Toraf.
I've never seen this man before, yet he's eerily familiar. His silhouette sitting next to Galen was definitely classic Syrena male, but the glare from the sun had hidden his face. I'd naturally just assumed that where there's a Galen, there's a Toraf. Now that his face is in full view though, I see that this man looks like a slightly older version of Galen. Slightly older as in slightly more jaded. Other than that, he could be his twin brother. It may be because he's wearing some of Galen's clothes, a wrinkled brown polo shirt and plaid shorts. But he shares other things, too, besides clothes.
He's handsome like Galen, with the same strong jaw and the same eyebrow shape and the way he's wearing the same expression on his face that Galen is-that he's found what he's been looking for. Only, the stranger's expression clearly divulges that he's been looking for a lot longer than Galen has-and this man is not looking at me.
And that's when I know just exactly who he is. That's when I believe the look in Galen's eyes. That he didn't lie to me, that he loves me. Because this man has to be Grom.
Mom confirms it with a half cry, half growl. "No. No. It can't be." Even if she weren't handcuffed to Rachel right now, I'm not sure she'd actually be able to move. Disbelief has a special way of paralyzing you.
With every step the man takes toward Rachel's car, he shakes his head more vigorously. It's l ~ Anna Banks

His name was Mr. Quan and he was the concierge, which explained the black suit and the lavender shirt but not the oversized bow tie in chrome-yellow silk. Perhaps nothing could. ~ Carsten Stroud

Avery latched on to his neck and stayed on him. All Kane could do was lean his head back feeling the bottles shift behind him, giving Avery full access to his jaw and ear. Kane heard himself groan when Avery's teeth nipped the soft skin under his ear. Avery ground his hips forward and Kane involuntarily met him thrust for grinding thrust. "Come home with me. No, fuck home. I want you right here." Kane couldn't think with the sexy low voice whispering across his ear. Avery's hands were on him, seeking, and he pulled Kane's shirt from his slacks and unbuckled his belt. He was surprised to find his own hands working himself free, not Avery's. Loud beeps stopped Kane in his tracks as the security code to the wine cellar was entered. ~ Kindle Alexander

You know it's a perverted crowd when a guy is screaming at you to take your shirt off. ~ Jared Leto

Not being able to swipe into the subway when people are backing up behind you. Waiting for him at the bar. Leaving your purse open on a stool with a mess of bills visible. Mispronouncing the names while presenting French wines. Your clogs slipping on the waxed floors. The way your arms shoot out and you tense your face when you almost fall. Taking your job seriously. Watching the sex scene from Dirty Dancing on repeat and eating a box of gingersnaps for dinner on your day off. Forgetting your stripes, your work pants, your socks. Mentally mapping the bar for corners where you might catch him alone. Getting drunker faster than everyone else. Not knowing what foie gras is. Not knowing what you think about abortion. Not knowing what a feminist is. Not knowing who the mayor is. Throwing up between your feet on the subway stairs. On a Tuesday. Going back for thirds at family meal. Excruciating diarrhea in the employee bathroom. Hurting yourself when you hit your head on the low pipe. Refusing to leave the bar though it's over, completely over. Bleeding in every form. Beer stains on your shirt, grease stains on your jeans, stains in every form. Saying you know where something is when you have absolutely no idea where it is.

At some point, I leveled out. Everything stopped being embarrassing. ~ Stephanie Danler

Tailored jackets with jeans is a great look for all ages. Dress up with a heel and pretty shirt, or just wear a smart T-shirt under the jacket. ~ Twiggy

Good mothers know the names of their kids' friends. 'Hey Green shirt, your ball has rolled into the hedge' will not do. ~ Rachna Singh

In everyday life, I'm pretty much T-shirt and jeans guy - a soft LnA shirt, cool APC jeans, Nikes or Jordans. If I'm going to an event I like to wear a suit, sometimes a three-piece. I'm into brands like Simon Spurr - I think he makes great suits - and Dior Homme. ~ Bryan Greenberg

You're quite the frisky mittens," I tell her as we stop at a crowded crosswalk, waiting in the throngs of tourists taking in the city of sin.
Running her fingers across the front of my T-shirt, she says, "And I get the impression you like me so . . . hands on."
"Guilty as charged. ~ Lauren Blakely

His fingers leave streaks of cold on my skin, invisible to the eye, and I think about wrapping his shirt around my fist and pulling him in to kiss me; I think about pressing myself against him, but I can't, because all our secrets would keep a space between us. ~ Veronica Roth

Corrigan told me once that Christ was quite easy to understand. He
went where He was supposed to go. He stayed where He was needed. He
took little or nothing along, a pair of sandals, a bit of a shirt, a few odds and ends to stave off the loneliness. He never rejected the world. If He had rejected it, He would have been rejecting mystery. And if He rejected mystery, He would have been rejecting faith. ~ Colum McCann

And then she set to work, washing fresh blueberries that sat on the counter, before grabbing a big colander. Sam headed into the backyard, whose lawn backed acres of woods. Blackberries and raspberries grew wild and thick in the brambles that sat at the edge of the woods. Sam carefully navigated her way through the thorny vines, her thin running shirt catching and snagging on a thorn.
"Darn it," she mumbled.
Blackberries are red when they're green, she could hear her grandfather telling her when they used to pick the fruit. But today, a brilliant summer day, the blackberries were deep purple, almost black, and each one resembled a mini beehive.
Sam plucked and popped a fresh blackberry, already warm from the sun, into her mouth, savoring the natural sweetness, and picked until her colander was half full before easing her way through the woods to find a raspberry bush thick with fruit. She navigated her way out of the brambles and headed back to the kitchen, where she preheated the oven and began to wash the blackberries and raspberries.
Sam pulled cold, unsalted butter from the fridge and began to cube it, some flour and sugar from the cupboard, a large bowl, and then she located her grandmother's old pastry blender.
Sam made the crust and then rolled it into a ball, lightly flouring it and wrapping it in plastic before placing it in the refrigerator. Then she started in on the filling, mixing the berries, sugar, flour, and fresh orange juice. ~ Viola Shipman

A door behind the desk opened, and a short, wiry man entered. His short-sleeved dress shirt was shiny and unbuttoned down to the navel, revealing a host of gold chains and, uh, bling. His arms were knotted, ropy muscle. Have you ever seen someone who gave you the chills just by entering a room? This guy had that. Even the big bouncer, who had to be a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier than the short guy, took half a step back. A hush fell over us. The ~ Harlan Coben

I started to imagine Mary tugging at the shirt of Jesus and saying, I will not keep silent. I will obey you and I will tell others to obey you but I will not keep silent. People are thirsty. In John's Gospel, Mary is not the young virgin pondering sweet things in her heart. In John's Gospel, Mary is not surrounded by singing angels... I started to see Mary in a long line of prophets who have not kept silent. The prophet Mary stands and says, "Lord we've run out of wine and people are thirsty." And Jesus hears her. ~ Nadia Bolz-Weber

She pulled up Ash's shirt, revealing a layer of gauze that was just beginning to seep blood onto the mattress. "At least the bandaging was done properly," she mused. "Very nice, clean work. Your handiwork, I presume, Goodfellow?"
"Which one?"
"The bandage, Robin."
"Yeah, that was mine, too. ~ Julie Kagawa