Clasps For Bracelets Quotes

Josey was a different person than she was even a month ago. She reminded Margaret so much now of Marco's cousins from Italy. They'd shown up in Bald Slope without warning once, early in Marco and Margaret's wedding. They were magical women, with their long curly hair, large breasts and movements like dancers. Their bracelets sounded like wind chimes when they walked. Margaret had been fascinated by them. Marco had ushered them out within hours of their arrival and taken them to Asheville for their stay. He was ashamed of them, their earthiness and sensuality, of their provincial ways. No one from Italy ever visited again. ~ Sarah Addison Allen

In their millenial and long-lived patience they knew quite well how, in a hundred years, or a thousand years' time, or else, perhaps, tomorrow, in an hour's time, for it was all a gamble, a million to one chance, but all the same there was a chance that if they kept on shaking their chains, one day, some day, the clasps upon the shackles would part. ~ Angela Carter

Where are your monuments, your battles, martyrs?
Where is your tribal memory? Sirs,
in that gray vault. The sea. The sea
has locked them up. The sea is History.

First, there was the heaving oil,
heavy as chaos;
then, likea light at the end of a tunnel,

the lantern of a caravel,
and that was Genesis.
Then there were the packed cries,
the shit, the moaning:

Exodus.
Bone soldered by coral to bone,
mosaics
mantled by the benediction of the shark's shadow,

that was the Ark of the Covenant.
Then came from the plucked wires
of sunlight on the sea floor

the plangent harp of the Babylonian bondage,
as the white cowries clustered like manacles
on the drowned women,

and those were the ivory bracelets
of the Song of Solomon,
but the ocean kept turning blank pages

looking for History.
Then came the men with eyes heavy as anchors
who sank without tombs,

brigands who barbecued cattle,
leaving their charred ribs like palm leaves on the shore,
then the foaming, rabid maw

of the tidal wave swallowing Port Royal,
and that was Jonah,
but where is your Renaissance?

Sir, it is locked in them sea sands
out there past the reef's moiling shelf,
where the men-o'-war floated down;

strop on these goggles, I'll guide you there myself.
It's all subtle and sub ~ Derek Walcott

She'd been given gifts before. Earrings, necklaces, bracelets. Weekend trips to the Bahamas or a day at the spa. Expensive - but meaningless - trinkets that showed Dax didn't have a clue what to give her, that he didn't listen to her. Things that could be meant for any woman. Nothing that said she was special, that what she thought and wanted mattered.
A set of aluminum bleachers full of teenage boys meant more than any of those things combined. ~ Jeanette Murray

The disconnect between what's going on in schools and what's allowed to be shown in movies has gotten really bad because girls in junior high are having oral sex and getting bracelets for it, and in movies everybody's got to be 30 years old to have sex. It's very bizarre. ~ Amy Heckerling

Mr. Offerman clasps his hand on top of hers. "It's a good hobby for you, dear. It gets you out of the kitchen."
I straighten my spine. Are we in the fifties here? "Out of the kitchen? ~ Lauren Blakely

The couple in the Skyline came to mind. Why did I have this fixation on them? Well, what else did I have to think about? By now, the two of them might be snoozing away in bed, or maybe pushing into commuter trains. They could be flat character sketches for a TV treatment: Japanese woman marries Frenchman while studying abroad; husband has traffic accident and becomes paraplegic. Woman tires of life in Paris, leaves husband, and returns to Tokyo, where she works in Belgian or Swiss embassy. Silver bracelets, a memento from her husband. Cut to beach scene in Nice: woman with the bracelets on left wrist. Woman takes bath, makes love, silver bracelets always on left wrist. Cut: enter Japanese man, veteran of student occupation of Yasuda Hall, wearing tinted glasses like lead in Ashes and Diamonds. A top TV director, he is haunted by dreams of tear gas, by memories of his wife who slit her wrist five years earlier. Cut (for what it's worth, this script has a lot of jump cuts): he sees the bracelets on woman's left wrist, flashes back to wife's bloodied wrist. So he asks woman: could she switch bracelets to her right wrist?

"I refuse," she says. "I wear my bracelets on my left wrist. ~ Haruki Murakami

Wrists are for bracelets, not for cutting. ~ Kellin Quinn

The naked body of the female consort illustrates freedom from the obscuration of conceptual symbols. As an illustration of unchanging great bliss endowed with the sixteen joys, she appears in the form of a youthful, sixteen-year-old girl. Her hair hangs loose, showing the unlimited way that wisdom expands impartially out of basic space. She is adorned with five bone ornaments. Of these, the ring at the top of her head symbolizes the wisdom of the basic space of phenomena [dharmadhātu], while her bone necklace represents the wisdom of equality. Her earrings stand for discerning wisdom, her bracelets for mirrorlike wisdom, and her belt for all-accomplishing wisdom. Illustrating the unity of calm abiding and insight, her secret space is joined in union. ~ Getse Mahapandita

You're one of the best men I know. You wear your tats and piercings and those damn leather bracelets that only you could get away with. But inside you are one big teddy bear. When someone you love needs you, there is nothing you won't do for them. When I needed you, you were always there. I've never questioned your heart. It's made of fucking gold, and we all know it. We laugh at your crude jokes and snide comments because we know they mean nothing. It's part of your shield. Underneath, I don't know many men that compare. You're one of the best, Dewayne. One of the best. ~ Abbi Glines

Kavita looks peaceful when she's sleeping, when the Morphine finally brings her some comfort. Jasu sits in a chair next to the bed and reaches for her frail hand. With his touch, her eyes flutter open and she licks her dried lips. She sees him and smiles.
"Jani, you're back," she says softly.
"I went there, chakli." He tries to begin slowly, but the words come tumbling out. "I went to Shanti, the orphanage. The man there knows her, he's met her, Kavi. Her name is Asha now. She grew up in America, her parents are doctors, and she writes stories for newspapers - look, this is hers, she wrote this."
He waves the article in front of her.
"America."
Kavita's voice is barely a whisper. She closes her eyes and a tear drips down the side of her face and into her ear. "So far from home. All this time, she's been so far from us."
"Such a good thing you did, chakli." He strokes her hair, pulled back into a loose bun, and wipes her tears away with his rough fingers. "Just imagine if…" He looks down, shakes his head, and clasps her hand between his. He rests his head against their hands and begins to cry. "Such a good thing."He looks up at her again. "She came looking for us, Kavi. She left this."
Jasu hands her the letter. A small smile breaks through on Kavita's face. She peers at the page while he recites from memory.
"My name is Asha… ~ Shilpi Somaya Gowda

Clasps his laps around minas throat, pieces her skin and drinks her blood. He then forces her into an act that binds her to the vampire for eternity ~ Bram Stoker

Bracelets with white symbols?" Michael made the question casual; in fact, he bent his head and concentrated on tuning his guitar, not that it needed it. Every note sounded perfect as it whispered out of the strings. "Do you remember?"
"No." She felt a pure burst of something that wasn't quite panic, wasn't quite excitement. "Does that mean they have Protection?"
He hesitated for about a second, just long enough for her to know he was surprised. "You mean condoms?" he asked. "Doesn't everybody? ~ Rachel Caine

Scott still stares at Sid, then turns to Alice and hands her the Scotch. "We're going to go see Joanie today," he says.

Alice grins. "And Chachi?" she asks.

Sid bursts out laughing and Scott turns back to him, then places a hand on his shoulder, which makes me fear for his life. "You be quiet, son," Scott says. "I could kill you with this hand. This hand has been places."

I shake my head and look at both Sid and Alex.

Scott lifts his hand off Sid's shoulder and turns again to his wife. "No, Alice. Our Joanie. Our daughter. We're going to give her anything she wants." He glares at me. "Think about what she would want, Alice. We're going to get it for her and bring it to her. Bring it right to her bed."

"Joanie and Chachi," Alice chants. "Joanie and Chachi!"

"Shut up, Alice!" Scott yells.

Alice looks at Scott as though he just said "Cheese." She clasps her hands together and smiles, staying in the pose for a few seconds. He looks at her face and squints. "Sorry, old gal," he says. "You go ahead and say whatever you want."

"It was funny," Sid says. "All I was doing was laughing. She has a good sense of humor. That's all. Maybe she knows she's being funny. I think she does."

"I'm going to hit you," Scott says. His arms hang alongside him, the muscles flexed, veins big like milk-shake straws. I know he's going to hit Sid because that's what he does. I've seen him hit Barry. I, too, h ~ Kaui Hart Hemmings

When are you going to get a fella?" Lily asks Rose after a year or two of dancing. "I have one who wants to take me kissing, but I think I should wait for you to have one."
Rose flushes. "I don't think I'll ever have a fella."
"Why not?" Lily bristles. "We're plenty pretty."
"I don't like the look of them," Rose says.
Lily purses her lips at the dance floor, appraising.
After a moment long, Rose says, "Any of them."
Lily looks at her a long time, as Rose tries not to hyperventilate.
Then Lily shrugs and says, "Well, then it's you who should have learned to lead, isn't it?" and when Rose clasps Lily's hand, she clasps it back.
It's the closest they've ever been. ~ Genevieve Valentine

Nothing about you or Wonderland makes sense. And the 'one abiding truth' is that life was so much easier when I'd forgotten your massive ego and that other world ever existed."
A tremor shifts through his features, first fragile, then severe. His muscles twitch under his T-shirt, sending a tingling sensation through my knuckles. "You want me nonexistent?"

Before I can respond, he steps back and flips the hat from his head. Then he drags off his vest and his T-shirt, dropping them all on the floor at my feet. Once he's peeled off his necklace and bracelets, he stands there facing me in only jeans and boots.

I watch him warily. "W-w-what are you doing?"

"I'm clearing the way for my massive ego. ~ A.G. Howard

There's not really a ban on the KIA bracelet specifically. There are regulations for wearing the uniform and specifically jewelry, and Marines are not allowed to wear bracelets. This falls under that spectrum. Now, the KIA bracelet will be lumped into the same category as the POW/MIA bracelets, which are approved for wear. ~ James F. Amos

Hiya, cutie! How was your first day of school?" She pops the oven shut with her hip.
He shakes his head and pulls up a bar stool next to Rayna, who's sitting at the counter painting her nails the color of a red snapper. "This won't work. I don't know what I'm doing," he says.
"Sweet pea, what happened? Can't be that bad."
He nods. "It is. I knocked Emma unconscious."
Rachel spits the wine back in her glass. "Oh, sweetie, uh...that sort of thing's been frowned upon for years now."
"Good. You owed her one," Rayna snickers. "She shoved him at the beach," she explains to Rachel.
"Oh?" Rachel says. "That how she got your attention?"
"She didn't shove me; she tripped into me," he says. "And I didn't knock her out on purpose. She ran from me, so I chased her and-"
Rachel holds up her hand. "Okay. Stop right there. Are the cops coming by? You know that makes me nervous."
"No," Galen says, rolling his eyes. If the cops haven't found Rachel by now, they're not going to. Besides, after all this time, the cops wouldn't still be looking. And the other people who want to find her think she's dead.
"Okay, good. Now, back up there, sweet pea. Why did she run from you?"
"A misunderstanding."
Rachel clasps her hands together. "I know, sweet pea. I do. But in order for me to help you, I need to know the specifics. Us girls are tricky creatures."
He runs a hand through his hair. "Tell me about it. First she's being nice and coopera ~ Anna Banks

When I give my jewelry as a present, I feel like I'm giving protection to someone I care about ... I've given pieces to my mom, my aunts, my friends. I've even made bracelets for my dad and my uncle. ~ Sofia Boutella

I don't believe that." She seems like suck a force,this reasonable girl who kills with a turn of her fingers. She would have left all this behind, if she had the chance. "I honestly don't remember," she sighs "I don't think I was strong in life. Now it seems like I loved every moment, that every breath was charmed and crisp." she clasps her hands comically to her chest and breaths in deep through her nose, then blows it out in a huff. "I probably didn't. For all my dreams and fancies, I can't recall being ... what would you call it? Perky? ~ Kendare Blake

A lover finds his mistress asleep on a mossy bank; he wishes to catch a glimpse of her fair face without waking her. He steals softly over the grass, careful to make no sound; he pauses
fancying she has stirred: he withdraws: not for worlds would he be seen. All is still: he again advances: he bends above her; a light veil rests on her features: he lifts it, bends lower; now his eyes anticipate the vision of beauty
warm, and blooming, and lovely, in rest. How hurried was their first glance! But how they fix! How he starts! How he suddenly and vehemently clasps in both arms the form he dared not, a moment since, touch with his finger! How he calls aloud a name, and drops his burden, and gazes on it wildly! He thus grasps and cries, and gazes, because he no longer fears to waken by any sound he can utter
by any movement he can make. He thought his love slept sweetly: he finds she is stone dead.
I looked with timorous joy towards a stately house: I saw a blackened ruin. ~ Charlotte Bronte

Quintana's christening was in 1966, this Christian Dior show was two years later, 1968: 1966 and 1968 were a world removed from each other in the political and cultural life of the United States but they were for women who presented themselves a certain way the same time. It was a way of looking, it was a way of being. It was a period. What became of that way of looking, that way of being, that time, that period? What became of the women smoking cigarettes in their Chanel suits and their David Webb bracelets, what became of Diana holding the champagne flute and the one of Sara Mankiewicz's Minton plates? What became of Sara Mankiewicz's Minton plates? ~ Joan Didion

Wait, we can not break bread with you. You have taken the land which is rightfully ours. Years from now my people will be forced to live in mobile homes on reservations. Your people will wear cardigans, and drink highballs. We will sell our bracelets by the road sides, and you will play golf, and eat hot h'ors d'ourves. My people will have pain and degradation. Your people will have stick shifts. The gods of my tribe have spoken. They said do not trust the pilgrims, especially Sarah Miller. And for all of these reasons I have decided to scalp you and burn your village to the ground. ~ Paul Rudnick

To know nothing, or little, is in the nature of some husbands. To hide, in the nature of how many women? Oh, ladies! how many of you have surreptitious milliners' bills? How many of you have gowns and bracelets which you daren't show, or which you wear trembling?
trembling, and coaxing with smiles the husband by your side, who does not know the new velvet gown from the old one, or the new bracelet from last year's, or has any notion that the ragged-looking yellow lace scarf cost forty guineas and that Madame Bobinot is writing dunning letters every week for the money! ~ William Makepeace Thackeray

I can't help blushing and looking down at my feet. "It was nothing."
"It was literally everything to me."
I look up, putting on my best version of Eight's teasing smile. "In that case, I think I deserve more than a gross hot dog."
Eight clasps his hands across his chest like I've wounded him. "You're right! I'm a fool to think my life could be traded for a hot dog." He grabs my hand and gets down on one knee, pressing his forehead to the back of my hand. "My savior, what can I ever do to repay you? ~ Pittacus Lore

They don't give gold bracelets for regrets. ~ Colson Whitehead

I've had the best time! The spirit here is incredible. It's competitive, to be sure, but everyone supports each other. I was getting advice from men I was about to go against right up to the very moment the competitions began."
"That's wonderful," Joanna said and handed him a mug of lemonade. "You look absolutely awful."
"I showered," he replied, a bit defensively.
"She means the bruises," Kassandra said. She thought "awful" was going too far, for the truth was, he looked magnificent. He was a bit battered, however, as was to be expected. All the competitors were the same.
"These are nothing," he insisted, gesturing to the livid black-and-blue splotches with which he was adorned, and with the enthusiasm of a boy, added, "I won two silver bracelets. Here." He handed one to each of them and beamed as they put them on.
"Thank you," Joanna said sweetly and leaned over to kiss his cheek.
Kassandra stared at the bracelet, turning it round and round her wrist. In her quarters, there were chests fitted with silk-lined drawers that held precious jewels given to her because she was a princess. She wore them on occasion and enjoyed them. But never had she received anything so lovely as that simple silver bracelet won by sweat and skill in the Games.
"It's very nice," she said, and felt his gaze even as she refused to meet it. ~ Josie Litton

Pippa's hair was down and fell over her shoulders. Beneath her jersey dress, her body was easy to imagine, and I reached forward, sliding a hand around her waist to pull her just a little closer. I wanted to kiss her. I knew that in part it was the wine, and the beer, and the heady sense of freedom in a small town where I knew no one, but I also knew that in no part was that feeling about Becky. Pippa bounced against me, singing terribly into the mic - perfect for the song, really. Her earrings cascaded down from her ears, nearly touching her shoulders. Her bracelets clanged on her wrist. Her lipstick stained her lips a seductive fire-red, and it made her happy smile seem boundless. ~ Christina Lauren

Wrists are for bracelets not cutting ~ Kellin Quinn

My mother died at eighty-three, of cancer, in pain, her spleen enlarged so that her body was misshapen. Is that the person I see when I think of her? Sometimes. I wish it were not. It is a true image, yet it blurs, it clouds, a truer image. It is one memory among fifty years of memories of my mother. It is the last in time. Beneath it, behind it is a deeper, complex, ever-changing image, made from imagination, hearsay, photographs, memories. I see a little red-haired child in the mountains of Colorado, a sad-faced, delicate college girl, a kind, smiling young mother, a brilliantly intellectual woman, a peerless flirt, a serious artist, a splendid cook - I see her rocking, weeding, writing, laughing - I see the turquoise bracelets on her delicate, freckled arm - I see, for a moment, all that at once, I glimpse what no mirror can reflect, the spirit flashing out across the years, beautiful.

That must be what the great artists see and paint. That must be why the tired, aged faces in Rembrandt's portraits give us such delight: they show us beauty not skin-deep but life-deep. ~ Ursula K. Le Guin

Religion can never reform mankind because religion is slavery. It is far better to be free, to leave the forts and barricades of fear, to stand erect and face the future with a smile. It is far better to give yourself sometimes to negligence, to drift with wave and tide, with the blind force of the world, to think and dream, to forget the chains and limitations of the breathing life, to forget purpose and object, to lounge in the picture gallery of the brain, to feel once more the clasps and kisses of the past, to bring life's morning back, to see again the forms and faces of the dead, to paint fair pictures for the coming years, to forget all Gods, their promises and threats, to feel within your veins life's joyous stream and hear the martial music, the rhythmic beating of your fearless heart. And then to rouse yourself to do all useful things, to reach with thought and deed the ideal in your brain, to give your fancies wing, that they, like chemist bees, may find art's nectar in the weeds of common things, to look with trained and steady eyes for facts, to find the subtle threads that join the distant with the now, to increase knowledge, to take burdens from the weak, to develop the brain, to defend the right, to make a palace for the soul. This is real religion. This is real worship ~ Robert G. Ingersoll

Wait long enough, and what was once mainstream will fall into obscurity. When that happens, it will become valuable again to those looking for authenticity or irony or cleverness. The value, then, is not intrinsic. The thing itself doesn't have as much value as the perception of how it was obtained or why it is possessed. Once enough people join in, like with oversized glasses frames or slap bracelets, the status gained from owning the item or being a fan of the band is lost, and the search begins again.
You would compete like this no matter how society was constructed. Competition for status is built into the human experience at the biological level. Poor people compete with resources. The middle class competes with selection. The wealthy compete with possessions.
You sold out long ago in one way or another. The specifics of who you sell to and how much you make - those are only details. ~ David McRaney

What say you, can you love the gentleman?
This night you shall behold him at our feast.
Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face,
And find delight writ there with beauty's pen;
Examine every married lineament,
And see how one another lends content;
And what obscured in this fair volume lies
Find written in the margent of his eyes.
This precious book of love, this unbound lover,
To beautify him only lacks a cover.
The fish lives in the sea, and 'tis much pride
For fair without the fair within to hide.
That book in many's eyes doth share the glory,
That in gold clasps locks in the golden story.
So shall you share all that he doth possess,
By having him, making yourself no less. ~ William Shakespeare

I always have two bracelets on my right arm. One is a purple and white bracelet from a fan. I love it! I also wear a bracelet from a waterpark- I've had it on for two or three years. My mom says it's pretty nasty, actually. But you'll never see me without them ever! In magazine photos, the bracelets are sometimes airbrushed out, but viewers will always see me wearing them during scenes. ~ Miley Cyrus

Ah, my dear friend Hassim, seems our paths cross once again, how fortunate for this humble Sheik." As Abdullah spoke in his usual self deprecating manner I realized that a favor was on the tip of his tongue and that I was about to be offered a quid-pro-quo.

We were sitting crossed legged on large fat pillows with gold fringe. The tent was large with partitions dividing living, sleeping and cooking space. It was made from heavy cotton canvas erected on thick poles in the center giving the structure a peaked circus tent appearance. The women serving us were young, wearing harem pants low on their hips with cropped gauze tops made from sheer silk. Their exposed midriffs were flat and toned, their belly buttons were decorated in precious stones that glittered in the torch light as they moved. They were bare footed with stacks of gold ankle bracelets making the only sound we heard as they kept our glasses filled with fresh sweet tea and our communal serving trays piled high with dates and sugar incrusted sweets of undetermined origin.

Abdullah took no notice of these women, his nonchalance intrigued me as I was obviously having trouble keeping my mind focused on the discussion at hand, this was all part of the Arab way, when it came to negotiation they had no peers.

"So my dear friend, tell me, the region is on fire is there a solution?"

I spoke in a deliberate and flat tone, little emotion just concern, one friend to another.

Nick Hahn

We knew each other to our fingertips. No, that's not right. We only knew each other in our fingertips, and that was nothing at all, and for a while that was okay. We could have been a love story, a fairy tale, an indie film about high school and selective insanity featuring a boy of angel parts and a girl made of dreaming. We could have been all the best things: bracelets sliding down arms while shots slid down throats, laughter and crashing music in dark and flashing rooms, kisses that started hesitant but didn't stay that way. ~ Amy Zhang

Did I tell you how incredible you look tonight?
I shook my head and hugged him, laying my head on his shoulder. He tightened his grip, and buried his face in my neck, making me forget about decisions or bracelets or my separate personalities; I was exactly where I wanted to be. ~ Jamie McGuire

My mother used to dress rather risque when I was a kid, and that sort of shocked me. I always thought moms were supposed to wear cardigans and flats, but she was in leather bracelets and minidresses. In hindsight, it was pretty cool, but I'm probably more conservative because of it. ~ Drew Barrymore