Demo Derby Shirt Quotes

Haldol is an antipsychotic." He dropped his reading glasses into his shirt pocket. "It was used in the Soviet prison system to break prisoners' wills." "And I'm only discovering it now?" I said. ~ Maria Semple

His white admiral's jacket gleamed with medals, nut Loki wasn't exactly wearing it regulation-style. It was open over a black T-shirt featuring Jack Nicholson's face from The Shinnig. The caption read: HEEEERE'S LOKI! ~ Rick Riordan

Opening her eyes, Eva placed her palm in the center of William's chest. "You're next." With her wee push, he obliged her and sat on the edge of the bed. Kneeling, she untied his shoes and removed his hose. When she stood, William had already untied the lace of the arming doublet he wore atop his shirt. Eva held up her finger. "Tsk, tsk. You don't want to spoil my fun do you?"
He shrugged out of the doublet with a look of defiance. "It canna hurt to help a bit."
"Come here." She pulled him up by the cord of his chausses. Fingers working quickly, she untied them and his braies, and let them drop to the floor. Then, with a sultry giggle, she slowly tugged the tie on his linen shirt, staring at his eyes while she tortured him, pulling oh so very slowly. "This bit of linen is all that's left between us, William."
He growled though straight white teeth. "And it will be torn to shreds if ye dunna haste to rip it from my torrid flesh. ~ Amy Jarecki

I pause by the door,schedule in hand, taking a moment to confirm I'm in the right place,since I really don't need to make that particular mistake yet again.
Independent study.Right.Last class of the day-praise be,hallelujah, and more.
I make my way inside and introduce myself to the man at the podium bearing a squinty mean gaze, a cruel slash of a mouth, a size-too-small T-shirt forced to stretch over a belly that will always arrive well before the rest of him,and a crew cut so tight it's mostly just scalp.Pausing when he places a red checkmark next to my name and tells me to grab any seat.
If I've learned anything today,it's that it can't be that easy.It may not be obvious at first sight,but somewhere in this deceptively innocuous classroom, territory has been staked, boundaries drawn,and an invisible wall erected,bearing an equally invisible sign that states clueless new girls like me are not welcome here.
"Any seat," he barks, shooting me a look that's already pegged me as just another moron in a succession of many. ~ Alyson Noel

I opened a writing app and began typing what I knew about Pierce.
Vain. Terminal fear of T-shirts or any other garment that would cover his pectorals.
Deadly. Doesn't hesitate to kill. Holding him at gunpoint would result in me being barbecued. Whee.
Likes burning things. Now here's an understatement. Good information to have, but not useful for finding him.
Antigovernment. Neither here nor there.
Hmm. So far my best plan would be to build a mountain of gasoline cans and explosives, stick a Property of US Government sign on it, and throw a T-shirt over Pierce's head when he showed up to explode it. Yes, this would totally work. ~ Ilona Andrews

You are young and energetic," she said. "It is a healthy thing for you to do. Why would I be offended? Do I suddenly own your sex, that I should be worried about you giving it away?" Vashet stopped as if something had just occurred to her. She turned to look at me. "Are you offended that I have been having sex with others all this while?" She watched my face intently. "I see you are startled by it." "I am startled," I admitted. Then I did a mental inventory and was surprised to discover I wasn't sure how I felt. "I feel I ought to be offended," I said at last. "But I don't think I am." Vashet nodded approvingly. "That is a good sign. It shows you are becoming civilized. The other feeling is what you were brought up to think. It is like an old shirt that no longer fits you. And now, when you look at it closely, you can see it was ugly to begin with. ~ Patrick Rothfuss

Rachel returned to the circle of his arms and thought she might possibly combust. Even the summer night breeze that moved the silk against her torso couldn't cool her. Braced against her car in the moonlight with his shirt fully open this time, Hawke posed as her own personal Adonis, poised for her touch. ~ Mia Dymond

Are you high? Why are you never wearing a shirt?"
"I sleep naked," Cole said. He put both milk and sugar in my coffee. "As the day goes on, I put on more and more clothing. You should've come over an hour ago. ~ Maggie Stiefvater

The suit does not represent the businessman anymore. Nor does the loud shirt represent the rock star. The same man can now wear both. ~ Donatella Versace

You don't tip before I've delivered the service, mate." I may be a prostitute but I don't accept payment when I haven't worked for it. I'll be vulnerable to peculiar demands later on. "I want you to have it." Ali shifts his feet uncomfortably. He gazes at me for a long moment, seemingly debating what to say. "I...I want us to have sex as though we're making love." Making love? Jaysus. I scratch my head. I am at a loss why the words scare me. It's not like I don't understand what it's about, theoretically. "Okay. You mean more kisses and shit?" Ali laughs. "And shit." His face lights up and he looks about ten years younger. "Like cuddles." Cuddles. Hugs. Kisses. Luxuries for other people. Sex has been only sex to me in the last few years. I guess grown-ups sometimes need some tender loving care. Fuck knows why Ali wants that from me, but if it's what he fancies, it's not the weirdest request I've ever heard. "'Course. The customer is always right." A frown appears briefly on his handsome face. I take his hand and lead him into the bedroom. We are still standing when I start kissing him, slowly at first as if I need to taste his lips and savour them. All the while, I try to think of him
as someone I want. Strangely, it turns me on more than I care to admit. As I undress him, each small button of his shirt I undo brings expectation that thrills me. His strong hands seem too big for the same task, but they are delicate at the same time with the act of revealing my body. Soon ~ A. Zukowski

You look like a pagan. A pagan warrior queen." He scraped his teeth along her throat. "Naked, glowing, wearing nothing but ropes of diamonds."
"I want you inside me." Breath tearing, she bit at his ear. "Hot, hard inside me."
"My hands are busy at the moment." He filled them with her breasts. "I'll need help getting out of this shirt."
She reached up, tore it open, sending buttons flying.
"Well, that's one way."
"It's how it works when you're a pagan warrior queen. Take me." She gripped his hair, yanked his mouth to hers. "I want you to take me like there's nothing you need more."
"There isn't. It's you. It's always you. ~ J.D. Robb

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

We are creating a political demolition derby, not a presidential debate. Those strange impulses in the American soul that have produced mud wrestling and The Gong Show seem to have claimed the national campaign. ~ Hugh Sidey

When I came out of the wagon, he had her in a dramatic dip and was giving her a kiss. I set the needle and thread next to my shirt and waited. It seemed like a good kiss. I watched with a calculating eye, dimly aware that at some point in the future I might want to kiss a lady. If i did, I wanted to do a decent job of it.
After a moment my father noticed me and stood my mother back on her feet."That will be ha'penny for the show, Master Voyeur,"he laughed. "What are you still here for, boy? I'll bet you the same ha'penny that a question slowed you down. ~ Patrick Rothfuss

If I'm going to be on national T.V. without my shirt on, I've got to look good. ~ Chord Overstreet

To be fair, I don't have a lot of clothes and you know, Einstein had the same outfit, five different times because he didn't want to spend energy trying to decide what to wear every day. It's pointless. I have a shirt that I wear when I'm not on stage and then I have a sweaty shirt that is so disgusting it would blow your mind. ~ Sam Endicott

The door banged open, and Eve rushed out, flushed and mussed and still buttoning her shirt. 'It's not what you think,' she said. 'It was just - oh, okay, whatever, it was exactly what you think. Now, what? ~ Rachel Caine

The last time I saw you, you were wearing a white cotton shirt. You were standing upright with your wife on the lawn, in the sunlight, in front of the chateau, at my brother's wedding. You shared in the enthusiasm of the ceremony. For my part, I felt distanced from it. I didn't recognize my family in this mundane get-together. You didn't seem put off by the bourgeois ceremony, or by my brother's choice to have his love approved by third parties, even when these were distant third parties. You didn't have the sad and absent look you normally took on at public gatherings. You smiled, watching the people, a little tipsy from the wine and the sun, chatting on the large lawn between the white stone façade and the two-hundred-year-old cedar tree. I often wondered, after your death, if that smile, the last one I saw from you, was mocking, or if instead it was the kindly smile of someone who knew that soon he would no longer partake in earthly pleasures. You didn't regret leaving these behind, but neither were you averse to enjoying them a little longer. ~ Edouard Leve

He and the girl had almost nothing to say to each other. One thing he did say was, 'I ain't got any tattoo on my back.'
'What you got on it?' the girl said.
'My shirt,' Parker said. 'Haw.'
'Haw, haw,' the girl said politely. ~ Flannery O'Connor

Dear Dan, I recently attended one of your lectures, and I was wondering why an Israeli guy telling Jewish jokes is wearing an Indian shirt?
D.A.: In general I am not someone who should be asked for fashion advice, but this particular case might be the one exception ... My solution? I figured that as long as I am wearing clothes from a different culture, no one is politically correct (and this includes almost everyone in the United States ) could complain that I'm underdressed. After all, any such critic could be offending a whole subcontinent. ~ Dan Ariely

There is an expression here on Capitol Hill," Issa told me. "'Don't ever get between a member and a camera.'" That can be particularly harrowing in the case of Issa, who had purchased a T-shirt for Bardella that said: "It's all about me. ~ Mark Leibovich

For the record, I tried to stop this," I said grimly. Then I turned my attention back to Ian.
The afternoon sun gave his copper-hued hair golden highlights and he made sure that the hard lines of his chest and abdomen were on full display as his pace kept his shirt billowing behind him. Grudgingly, I had to admit that several heads turned, and more than a few cars slowed down as female drivers gave him a second, third and fourth look. Ian responded by flashing them a dazzling smile, making him appear almost angelic to anyone who didn't know that he was a conscienceless slut. ~ Jeaniene Frost

If it was easy here to lose yourself in the immensities of the land, under a sky that opened too far in the direction of infinity, you could also do it (every woman knew this) in a space no longer than five paces from wall to wall; to find yourself barging about the hut like a trapped bird, clutching at whatever came to hand, a warm teapot, a startled child, a shirt with the smell of sweat on it, to steady yourself against the cyclone that had blown up in the gap between you and the nearest bedpost, and threatened to sweep you out the door where nothing, not a flat iron, not the names of children on your lips, could hold you down against the vast upward expanse of your breath. ~ David Malouf

If you have two shirts in your closet, one belongs to you and the other to the man with no shirt. ~ Ambrose Of Milan

I don't even know if I have bones in my body anymore. I don't know how I'm standing. I could melt under the sweet heat of his lips that are now tracing a line down my chest to the very top of my breasts, as he tugs gently at my shirt, giving himself room to leave one more brush of his lips, before he stops. ~ Lauren Blakely

He kept his shirt-tail hanging out below the hem of his jacket as a white flag to motorists; over four thousand people had been killed in blackout accidents during the first few months of the war. It was safer to take an overseas posting with the British Expeditionary Force. ~ Christopher Fowler

He threw her a crooked grin as he removed his shirt completely, revealing a torso that seemed too perfectly muscular and finely honed to be real. Unbearable tension knotted inside her, and she struggled with inhibition and modesty as he bent over her. "Shall I stop now?" he asked, cuddling her against his long body. "I don't want to frighten you."
Her cheek pressed against his shoulder, and she relished the exhilarating sensation of pressing her bare skin against his. She had never felt so vulnerable, so willing to be vulnerable. "I'm not afraid," she said, her voice dazed and wondering, and she withdrew her hands from between their bodies, so that her breasts pushed directly against his chest.
An aching sound came from his throat, and he buried his face against her throat, kissing her, working his way downward. ~ Lisa Kleypas

Despite all the small hitches, prom night turns out to be even more magical than I imagined it would be. I don't care that Chris painted the tips of his mohawk blue. I don't care that he wore a T-shirt and jeans when all the other guys wore their dorky suits and tuxedos. I actually love that he looks so different than all these clones. He's crazy, sexy, and beautiful. And he's all mine. ~ Cassia Leo

Before you came,
things were as they should be:
the sky was the dead-end of sight,
the road was just a road, wine merely wine.

Now everything is like my heart,
a color at the edge of blood:
the grey of your absence, the color of poison, of thorns,
the gold when we meet, the season ablaze,
the yellow of autumn, the red of flowers, of flames,
and the black when you cover the earth
with the coal of dead fires.

And the sky, the road, the glass of wine?
The sky is a shirt wet with tears,
the road a vein about to break,
and the glass of wine a mirror in which
the sky, the road, the world keep changing.

Don't leave now that you're here -
Stay. So the world may become like itself again:
so the sky may be the sky,
the road a road,
and the glass of wine not a mirror, just a glass of wine. ~ Faiz Ahmad Faiz

Sarah felt like the bad girl in an eighties teen flick. The girl with big hair and a tight shirt who seduces the nice girl's boyfriend but loses him in the end, because she's shallow and tacky and no match for a sweet girl with good morals and freshly scrubbed skin. ~ Emily Maguire

She felt him relax and his voice softened. "Is that what this is all about? You feel like you can't talk to me anymore? We haven't changed; we're still the same people."
She slipped her hands beneath the front of his shirt, slowly running her fingertips over his chest and back down to his waist. He turned in her arms and smiled, but his grin was filled with mocking suspicion. "Are you trying to distract me, Violet Ambrose?"
"I guess you're smarter than you look," she teased as he pushed her backward so that they both fell on her bed.
"And you are not as funny as you think you are." His mouth hovered over hers, his arms tightening, crushing her against him. Violet giggled and tried to squirm free, but Jay wouldn't let her. He kissed her throat, his lips teasing her until it wasn't his grip that made it hard for Violet to breathe.
"Oh, and Violet," he whispered against her ear, his breath tickling her cheek, "I'm still your best friend. Don't ever forget it." His words were fervent and touching.
Violet tried to think of a response that made sense, something appropriate, but all she could manage was: "Please. Don't stop."
She didn't mind begging if it meant getting her way.
Apparently that was enough to satisfy Jay, and he kissed her possessively. Thoroughly. Deeply.
He eased her back until she was lying against the pillows, and she waited for him to stop, to tell her that they'd gone far enough for tonight. But she didn't want him to. S ~ Kimberly Derting

After winning the Derby aged just 18-Why all the fuss? After all, the Derby is just another race. ~ Lester Piggott

Evening has disappeared. It takes me a while to realize this.In the meantime,I'm getting medical attention. A doctor named Johanna has detected a possible irregularity which requires her to listen to my heartbeat. This requires me to take off my shirt. ~ Michael Grant

You know, I've got a confession to make myself. I'm not really a priest, I've just got my shirt on backwards. ~ Ryan Stiles

Oscar hung his jacket on the back of a chair and undid the first few buttons of his checked shirt. Camille's fingers trembled as she reached for the lamp on the dresser and twisted the knob, lowering the wick until the light it gave off was that of a small candle's flame. She sat on the bed, and the other side of the hand-rolled mattress dipped with Oscar's weight. She didn't know how to look at him, if she should lie down or just come to her senses and ask him to leave. God, she wasn't doing any of this right.
"You sleep sitting up?" he asked.
Camille smiled, thankful he'd lightened the moment enough for her to lean back onto one of the pillows. Turning on her side, she saw he'd already taken the same position. They lay without touching, without talking, only looking. His eyes grazed her body, slowly absorbing the pink skin of her neck, the slight curves of her breasts, and the arc of her hip. He didn't need to lay a finger on her for the breath to stall in her lungs.
He breeched the few inches between them by sliding his hand atop hers, his skin warm and dry while beads of nervous sweat formed hot on her back. Camille reached out and let her fingertip travel along the fullness of his lower lip and down the curve of his chin. With one sweeping movement, Oscar pulled her tight against his chest and kissed her. A sensation kindled between her hips, spreading to every nerve ending in her body. This was it, the fire and heat she'd always yearned for. All these yea ~ Angie Frazier

Standing, Rider lifted his arms and stretched. His shirt rode up, baring a sliver of his stomach. My gaze dropped and focused in. His lower stomach was unbelievably taut. Defined.
Nice.
Very nice.
Cheeks flushing, I looked away and caught Hector's knowing gaze. Crap. I needed to be better about checking out guys. Like incognito style. ~ Jennifer L. Armentrout

Is that a bad thing? I asked, not entirely sure how I felt about the situation. Had it been someone other than Paige, I would have thought they were a spoiled brat getting whatever they wanted because they were famous. And it would have annoyed the living shit out of me. But since it was Paige, I didn't feel as irritated. Which made me a hypocritical dick who was okay with double standards. I should make a T-shirt. ~ J. Sterling

He blinked a few times, each motion so slow that he was never quite sure if he'd get his eyes open again. He wasn't wearing a shirt. Funny how he was only just realizing it. Funnier still that he couldn't seem to summon any concern for her maidenly sensibilities.
She might be blushing. He couldn't tell. It was too dark to see. But it didn't matter. This was Honoria. She was a good egg. A sensible egg. She wouldn't be scarred forever by the sight of his chest. ~ Julia Quinn

The sixth rule of Fight Club: No shirt, no shoes. ~ Chuck Palahniuk

To the casual observer, the Dropbox demo video looked like a normal product demonstration, but we put in about a dozen Easter eggs that were tailored for the Digg audience. References to Tay Zonday and 'Chocolate Rain' and allusions to 'Office Space' and 'XKCD.' It was a tongue-in-cheek nod to that crowd, and it kicked off a chain reaction. ~ Drew Houston

You don't need a reason to be upset. I think you've had a breakdown, Liam." Breakdown, relapse, binge, craving. A big fucking mess. Fucking walking disaster. But Ali lets me cry myself dry while ruining his shirt. When I finally stop, he asks, "Will you go to a detox? Sasha can ask his counsellor for an emergency placement. Perhaps we can persuade them you're a danger to yourself?" Hearing those words, I chuckle through my tears. "I know I'm a danger to myself." Ali smiles. "Yeah. And to me." "What do you mean?" I have to clean some of my snot with the bottom of my T-shirt. It doesn't matter anyway since the clothes I'm wearing are dirty and probably need to be fumigated. His grin broadens. "Well, I'm dangerously close to caring too much about you." I shake my head. Ali's a big softie but I can't think about romance right now ~ A. Zukowski

Newt reached out and grabbed Alby by the shoulders. "Alby, lay off a bit. You're hurtin' more than helpin', ya know?"
Alby let go of Thomas's shirt and stepped back, his chest heaving with breaths. "Ain't got time to be nice, Greenbean. Old life's over, new life's begun. Learn the rules quick, listen, don't talk. You get me?"
Thomas looked over at Newt, hoping for help. Everything inside him churned and hurt; the tears that had yet to come burned his eyes.
Newt nodded. "Greenie, you get him, right?" He nodded again.
Thomas fumed, wanted to punch somebody. But he simply said, "Yeah. ~ James Dashner

You wouldn't know a clue if it danced in front of you with a T-Shirt that read 'I'm a clue ~ Eoin Colfer

Basically, every band that makes it has some dude with some sense of business. I don't know if our band would've been so successful were it not for Daniel's [Kessler] insight into how things really work. Daniel was the one who was diligently saying, "We should make a demo, send it out, play shows but not too many shows, get on shows with touring bands that are coming to New York." ~ Paul Banks

Yes. I'm going to talk to her. Maybe." Kristoff huffed. "You, Bulda, Grand Pabbie... you act like this is so easy! They may be so-called love experts, but they've never left the valley."
Sven snorted.
"Hi," Anna interrupted, feeling funny. She was suddenly very aware of how she looked, and how he did, too. Kristoff had on a bright blue dress shirt and clean pants. She was wearing a green dress under a flour-and-icing-covered apron. Her braids, which she'd had in for two days, needed refreshing. "Were you looking for me? I mean, not actually looking, but you're here, so maybe... you're hungry?"
He immediately blushed. "What? Yes. I mean, no. I..." He pressed a bunch of carrots into her hands. "I just wanted to give you what I owed you."
"Oh." Anna looked down. "You didn't have to bring me back- oof!"
Sven had bumped into Anna, sending her flying into Kristoff's arms. The two tumbled backward, falling onto several stacks of flour Anna's parents hadn't had a chance to bring into the shop yet.
"This is awkward," Anna said, struggling to get up. 'Not because you're awkward. Because we're... I'm... awkward." She stood up. "You're gorgeous. Wait, what? ~ Jen Calonita

We will fight tirelessly to protect the rights of those who spew hate in the public square, stockpile weapons capable of wiping out classrooms of children, and flood our airwaves with lies to sway elections, but we draw the line at permitting a man convicted of stealing videotapes a door to his toilet, the chance to spend a night with his family, or the experience of preparing his own dinner in his own shirt. If ensuring freedom for those who may harm us is worth the risk when the costs are high, that must certainly be the case when protecting their rights leaves us safer. ~ Adam Benforado

Here." Mark shrugged out of his blue T-shirt. He was wearing another T-shirt under it, this one gray. Julian blinked at him. "Proper vestments." He offered it to his brother. "Why are you wearing a T-shirt under your other T-shirt?" Livvy asked, temporarily diverted. "In case one of them is stolen," Mark said, as if this were entirely normal. Everyone paused to stare at him, even Julian, who had stripped off the rags of his shirt and covered himself with Mark's. ~ Cassandra Clare

He stood looking up at her; it was not a glance, but an act of ownership. She thought she must let her face give him the answer he deserved. But she was looking, instead, at the stone dust on his burned arms, the wet shirt clinging to his ribs, the lines of his long legs. She was thinking of those statues of men she had always sought; she was wondering what he would look like naked. She saw him looking at her as if he knew that. ~ Ayn Rand