Collar And Leash Quotes

I unwind the thin metal belt from my waist, then loop one end through the other to create an all-in-one collar and leash. 'I hope this doesn't offend you but...' I lean over, patting the air until I encounter the softness of his fur. 'We'll tell no-one of this,' he mutters as I anchor the collar to his neck, and I want to smile. 'Ever. ~ Gena Showalter

As he speaks his right hand finds the chain hanging from my collar and collects it in his fingers, tracing the metal through his hand until he feels the leather loop. I watch as he slips the end over his left wrist. It's an incredibly erotic thing to witness and I find myself hypnotised by this simple act of control. ~ Felicity Brandon

I'm like a blue-collar writer. I just sit down every day and I write. ~ Philip Kan Gotanda

In the hazy afternoon light through the windows he looked beautiful and dissolute, shirt open at the collar and streaks of golden hair falling into his eyes, like some Regency buck after a long night's dancing. ~ Tana French

Then he removed his spectacles, and everyone in the bar gasped. He took off his hat, and with a violent gesture tore at his whiskers and bandages. For a moment they resisted him. A flash of horrible anticipation passed through the bar. "Oh, my Gard!" said some one. Then off they came. It was worse than anything. Mrs. Hall, standing open-mouthed and horror-struck, shrieked at what she saw, and made for the door of the house. Everyone began to move. They were prepared for scars, disfigurements, tangible horrors, but nothing! The bandages and false hair flew across the passage into the bar, making a hobbledehoy jump to avoid them. Everyone tumbled on everyone else down the steps. For the man who stood there shouting some incoherent explanation, was a solid gesticulating figure up to the coat-collar of him, and then - nothingness, no visible thing at all! ~ H.G.Wells

A young woman stepped in front of the dais and cleared her throat. She had reddish-brown hair that hung in loose waves down her back. Her figure was slender and regal, and Ian could have easily drowned in her emerald eyes. But what captured his attention the most was the way the lass carried herself - confident, yet seemingly unaware of her true beauty.
She wore a black gown with hanging sleeves, and the embroidered petticoat under her skirts was lined in gray. With the added reticella lace collar and cuffs dyed with yellow starch, she looked as though she should have been at the English court rather than in the Scottish Highlands.
"Pardon me, Ruairi. Ravenna wanted me to tell you that we're taking little Mary to the beach. We won't be long. We'll be in the garden until the mounts are readied, if you need us."
When the woman's eyes met Ian's, something clicked in his mind. His face burned as he remembered. He shifted in the seat and pulled his tunic away from his chest. Why was the room suddenly hot? He felt like he was suffocating in the middle of the Sutherland great hall.
God help him.
This was the same young chit who had pined after him, following him around the castle and nipping at his heels like Angus, Ruairi's black wolf. But like everything else that had transformed around here, so had she. She was no longer a girl but had become an enchantress - still young, but beautiful nevertheless. His musings were interrupted by a male voice.
"Munr ~ Victoria Roberts

If the workers of the world want to win, all they have to do is recognize their own solidarity. They have nothing to do but fold their arms and the world will stop. The workers are more powerful with their hands in the pockets than all the property of capitalists. . . ~ Howard Zinn

Take it easy, friend," siad Peter, regaining his balance, quickly understanding the condition Henry was in.
"Friend? You left us. In the caves." Henry's muscles tensed.
Peter stepped back cautiously. Henry didn't look like himself.
"Seems someone can't hold his drink," Peter said. He didn't go further, sensing then that Valerie might be thinking of her father.
"And now," Henry continued on his own track, stepping closer to meet him, the smell of alcohol on his breath, "my father, too is dead."
Valerie moved to Henry. "Please, don't do this," she said, stepping in. "It's not worth it."
Henry pushed past her, not realizing his own weight. The force knocked her back. Peter grabbed Henry's arm and twisted it. Overreacting, Henry reared back his fist and landed a punch in the hollow of Peter's eye. The crowd laughed as Peter fell hard to the ground.
Henry scrambled on top him, held him by the collar, forced Peter to face him as he'd never done. He looked into the eyes of the man he wanted to blame for his parents' deaths, because it was a shelter from the terrible thought that everything could be lost to a simple slip of fate. "You filth," he spat out.
This really got the villagers going. But Peter didn't laugh. He pulled a knife from his boot and leapt up, thrusting it viciously in Henry's face.
"Keep your hands off her or I'll cut them off! ~ Sarah Blakley-Cartwright

We're at the opening of the Globe." She thought back to Daniel's words under the peach trees at Sword & Cross. "Daniel told me we were here."
"Sure,you were here," Bill said. "About fourteen years ago.Perched on your older brother's shoulder. You came with your family to see Julius Caesar."
Bill hovered in the air a foot in front of her. It was unappetizing, but the high collar around her neck actually seemed to hold its shape. She almost resembled the sumptuously dressed women in the higher boxes.
"And Daniel?" she asked.
"Daniel was a player-"
"Hey!"
"That's whay they called the actors." Bill rolled his eyes. "He was just starting out then. To everyone else in the audience, his debut was utterly forgettable. But to little three-year-old Lucinda"-Bill shrugged-"it put the fire in you. You've been quote-unquote dying to get onstage ever since.Tonight's your night."
"I'm an actor? ~ Lauren Kate

Keep memories of insult on a short leash, and memories of blessing on a long one. ~ Alan Cohen

Dearly beloved: We have come together in the presence of God to witness and bless the joining together of this man and this woman in Holy Matrimony. The bond and covenant of marriage was established by God in creation, and our Lord Jesus Christ adorned this manner of life by his presence and first miracle at a wedding in Cana of Galilee. It signifies to us the mystery of the union between Christ and his Church, and Holy Scripture commends it to be honored among all people.
The union of husband and wife in heart, body, and mind is intended by God for their mutual joy; for the help and comfort given one another in prosperity and adversity; and, when it is God's will, for the procreation of children and their nurture in the knowledge and love of the Lord. Therefore marriage is not to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently, deliberately, and in accordance with the purposes for which it was instituted by God.
I glanced at Marlboro Man, who was listening intently, taking in every word. I held his bicep in my hand, squeezing it lightly and trying to listen to Father Johnson despite the distraction of Marlboro Man's work-honed muscles. Everything else was a blur: iron candlesticks attached to the end of each pew…my mother's olive green silk jacket with the mandarin collar…Mike's tuxedo…Mike's bald head…
Will you have this man to be your husband; to live together in the covenant of marriage? Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness ~ Ree Drummond

Ceony looked back up to see Lira grab Mg. Thane's collar and rip it down clear to his sternum, exposing his chest. "I'm finally leaving, dearie," she whispered, "and I'm taking you with me."
She plunged her right hand into his chest. Ceony stifled a cry. A golden ring of dust sparkled about Lira's wrist as Mg. Thane screamed between clenched teeth. Lira pulled her red-stained hand back out, clasping a still-beating heart between her bloodied fingers. ~ Charlie N. Holmberg

And so he came at last to the high seat of Guslav the fifth, High King of the Union. His head was slumped sideways, squashed down under the sparkling crown. His pasty pale fingers twitched on his crimson silk mantle like white slugs. His eyes were closed, chest rising and falling gently, accompanied by gentle splutterings as spittle issued from his slack lips and ran down his chin, joining the sweat on his bulging jowls and helping it to turn his high collar dark with wet. Truly, Jezal was in the presence of greatness. "Your ~ Joe Abercrombie

He handed the garments to her, and began to unknot his necktie. "Wait- take this too."
Cassandra's eyes widened as he began on his shirt cuffs. "How much more clothing do you plan to remove?" she asked uneasily.
Tom grinned, not missing the quick, interested flick of her gaze over him. "I'm only rolling up my sleeves." He paused, his hands going to the top button of his collar. "Although if you insist-"
"No," she said quickly, blushing at his teasing. "That's quite enough."
A warm mist had started to spread through the room, sweating the white tiles. Cassandra's skin was turning luminous from the humid air. Little wisps of hair at her forehead had drawn up into delicate curls he longed to play with. ~ Lisa Kleypas

Tell me I am not a slave, but put a leash on me and I will call you a liar. ~ Jim Galford

And we did, and it wasn't bad. We ate the whole stupid can, we were so hungry. And when it started to get dark you pointed to the sky, and told
me there was a star for every thing you loved about me. I'm gasping, feeling as though I am about to drown; I'm reaching for him blindly, grabbing at
his collar. ~ Lauren Oliver

Then, in the 1980's, came the paroxysm of downsizing, and the very nature of the corporation was thrown into doubt. In what began almost as a fad and quickly matured into an unshakable habit, companies were 'restructuring,' 'reengineering,' and generally cutting as many jobs as possible, white collar as well as blue ... The New York Times captured the new corporate order succintly in 1987, reporting that it 'eschews loyalty to workers, products, corporate structures, businesses, factories, communities, even the nation. All such allegiances are viewed as expendable under the new rules. With survival at stake, only market leadership, strong profits and a high stock price can be allowed to matter'. ~ Barbara Ehrenreich

If people in power are artfully pulling a red herring to cover up the cataclysm of their commitments, keeping people on a short leash and driving them playfully into an alley of false promises, we would do well to rely on attentive and considerate observers who send out alarm signals in time to prevent social corrosion. (" High noon. ") ~ Erik Pevernagie

Where I went to school, Eton College, we had to wear dark trousers, a tailcoat, and a stiff, starched collar every day, and that was fine with me: Part of the reason I wanted to go there was because I've always loved dressing up. ~ Charlie Siem

You've won," Jack said softly. He looked at Mimi with such fiery hatred that she almost cowered at his words. But she was no weakling. She was Azrael, and Azrael did not cower, not even to Abbadon.
"I've won nothing," Mimi replied coldly. "Please remember that almost all of the Elders are dead, that the
Dark Prince is ascendant, and what is left of the Conclave is being led by a broken man who used to be the strongest of us all. And yet all you seem to care about, my darling, is that you no longer get to play with your little love toy."
Instead of answering her, Jack flew across the room and slapped her hard across the face, sending her
crashing to the floor. But before he could wield another blow, Mimi leaped up and slammed him against the window, knocking him completely out of breath.
"Is this what you want?" she hissed as she lifted him up by his shirt collar, his face turning a ghastly shade of red.
"Don't let me destroy you," he sneered.
"Just try, my sweet."
Jack twisted out of her grasp and flipped her over, kicking her down the length of the room. She sprung up with her hands clenched, her nails sharp as claws, and fangs bared. They met halfway in the air, and Jack put a hand on her throat and began to squeeze. But she scratched at his eyes and wrenched her body so that she was rolling on top of him, her sword at his throat, with the upper hand.
SUBMIT. Mimi sent.
NEVER. ~ Melissa De La Cruz

Jamie let go of me. "Shut your mucky gob, man." He stepped close to our fearless leader in the dark, took hold of his jacket by the collar, and in a dead quiet voice that had gone dangerously Scots, threatened heatedly, "Talk like that again wi' these brave lassies listenin' an' Ah'll tear the filthy English tongue frae yer heid, so Ah will. ~ Elizabeth Wein

The typical socialist ... a prim little man with a white-collar job, usually a secret teetotaler and often with vegetarian leanings. ~ George Orwell

The NBA is a big family, and I think of all these rookies as my brothers. I still believe I am blue collar among the All-Stars. ~ Yao Ming

The workplace revolution that transformed the lives of blue-collar workers in the 1970s and 1980s is finally reaching the offices and cubicles of the white-collar workers. ~ Tom Peters

What first comes across our minds
About the stocky Mexican

Pushing a mower across the lawn
At 7 a.m. on a Saturday

As the roar of the cutter wakes us?
Let me take a guess.

Why do they have to come so damn early?
What do we make of his flannel

Shirt missing buttons at the cuffs,
Threadbare at the shoulders,

The grass stains around his knees,
The dirt like roadmaps to nowhere,

Between the wrinkles of his neck?
Let me take a shot. Dirty Mexican.

Would his appearance lead us to believe
He is a border jumper or wetback

Who hits the bar top with an empty shot glass
For the twelfth time then goes home

To kick his wife around like fallen grapefruit
Lying on the ground?

First, the stocky Mexican isn't mowing the lawn
At 7 a.m. on a Saturday.

He doesn't work weekends anymore ever since
He lost one-third of his route

To laborers willing to work for next to nothing.
Second, he knows better than to kneel

On the wet grass because, well, the knees
Of his pants will become grass-stained

And pants don't grow on trees, even here,
Close to Palm Springs.

Instead, after 25 years of the same blue collar work,
Two sons out and one going to college,

Rather than jail, and a small but modest savings
In case he loses the remaining two-thirds
John Olivares Espinoza

The dog leash was still tied tight around the oak tree in the back, stretched worn and limp across the green grass as if trying to escape to freedom; and he buried his wife without a tombstone. Where before, she sat most times in his home, licking her wounds. ~ Anthony Liccione

A heat wave crashes into my body and I tug at the collar of my winter coat. I could take this thing off and probably still sweat. The memories of his mouth moving against mine and how his hands pressed into my body flood my brain. I lick my lips in anticipation. I crave for him to kiss me again, but ... "Are you going to call me after?"
A small grin plays on his lips. "You aren't going to cut me any slack, are you?"
It's like he's begging me to tease him, and without thought, I slide back to the braver girl at the bar. "Is that a problem?"
He shakes his head. "Not from you." ~ Katie McGarry

JACKSON'S DARK BROWN HAIR curled up on his shirt collar. Black lashes and heavy brows framed his blue eyes. A few crow's-feet around his eyes were the only sign that he'd just passed his fortieth birthday and they were minimized in the dim restaurant lights. His jeans were creased and stacked up over his highly polished black boots just the right way. Waitresses stopped what they were doing and gazed at him over their shoulders as he passed. Their ~ Carolyn Brown

In a moment he would call Tana and they would pour into themselves a gay and delicate poison which would restore them momentarily to the pleasurable excitement of childhood, when every face in a crowd had carried its suggestion of splendid and significant transactions taking place somewhere to some magnificent and illimitable purpose...Life was no more than this summer afternoon; a faint wind stirring the lace collar of Gloria's dress, the slow baking drowsiness of the veranda...Intolerably unmoved they all seemed, removed from any romantic imminency of action. Even Gloria's beauty needed wild emotions, needed poignancy, needed death... ~ F Scott Fitzgerald

The sky-like limpid eyes,
The circular infant's face,
The stiffness from spats to collar
Never relaxing into grace;
The heavy memories of Horeb, Sinai and the forty years,
Showed only when the daylight fell
Level across the face
Of Brennbaum "The Impeccable". ~ Ezra Pound

Bloodclan, Attack!"
Not a cat moved
Tigerstar's amber eyes widened and he screeched "Attack, I order you!"
Still none of the warriors moved, eccept for the small black cat who took a pace forward. He glanced twored Firestar. "I am Scourge, leader of Bloodclan," he meowed, his voice cold and quiet. "Tigerstar, my warriors are not yours to command. They will attack when I tell them, and not before."
The look Tigerstar gave him was incredulous and glittered with all the hatred he had ever shown to Firestar, as is he couldn't beleive that this scrap of a cat was defying him. Firestar seized his oppertunity. He paced forward untill he stood right infront of the two leaders. Behind him, he heard graystripe hiss, "Firestar,be
careful!"
But this was no time for being careful. The very future of the forest was at stake, balanced on the breadth of a hair between Tigerstar's bloodthirsty quest for power and the whims of the unknown bloodclan.
Now Firestar could see that the collar Scourge wore around his neck was studded with teath--The teath of dogs, and...CATS' teath too. Great Starclan! Did they kill their own kind and wear there teath as trophies? ~ Erin Hunter

Sitting in this hut ... the scent of Grandmother's tea ... Memories grabbed Wax by his collar and shoved him face-first up against his past. ~ Brandon Sanderson

And yet, I seemed to feel my eyes bound, too, with bands of silk. And at my throat there was a velvet collar. ~ Sarah Waters

I snatched my gaze away from hers and tugged at the collar of my shirt. I wanted to know how she could talk with such authority on the subject. I wanted to know what evil she'd seen, but I wanted even more to escape the narrow store aisle. Warning bells pealed in my brain. 'She's crazy. Don't get involved. ~ Katherine Fleet

Now you have me like a dog on a leash, begging for more."
Amusement curled through her voice. "I see no dog on a leash. Only a very large wolf."
Catching her from behind, Rhys lowered his mouth to the side of her neck. "Your wolf," he said gruffly, and grazed her skin with the edge of his teeth. ~ Lisa Kleypas

At a certain point in our lives, when we really need a clear-cut solution, the person who knocks at our door is, more likely than not, a messenger bearing bad news. This isn't always the case, but from experience I'd say the gloomy reports far outnumber the others. The messenger touches his hand to his cap and looks apologetic, but that does nothing to improve the contents of the message. It isn't the messenger's fault. No good to blame him, no good to grab him by the collar and shake him. The messenger is just conscientiously doing the job his boss assigned him. And this boss? That would be none other than our old friend Reality. ~ Haruki Murakami