Elbow Quotes

It's an unnecessary burden to try to think of words and also worry at the same time whether they're the right words. ~ Peter Elbow

I turned, feeling steady but somewhat dazed, and looked from the hand, now on my elbow, up the strong arm, around the curve of the bulky shoulder, and over the angular jaw and chin, until my eyes met the breath-hijacking sight of Sir Handsome McHotpants's piercing blue eyes. I cringed. ~ Penny Reid

A woman once of some height, she is bent small, and the lingering strands of black look dirty in her white hair. She carries a cane, but in forgetfulness, perhaps, hangs it over her forearm and totters along with it dangling loose like an outlandish bracelet. Her method of gripping her gardener is this: he crooks his right arm, pointing his elbow toward her shoulder, and she shakily brings her left forearm up within his and bears down heavily on his wrist with her lumpish freckled fingers. Her hold is like that of a vine to a wall; one good pull will destroy it, but otherwise it will survive all weathers. ~ John Updike

Being photographed was dead time for the soul. Can the head think, while it does the same half smile under the same light frown? If this was all true, then Richard's soul was in great shape. No one photographed him any more, not even his wife. When the photographs came back from an increasingly infrequent holiday. Richard was never there..an elbow or earlobe on the edge of the frame, on the edge of life and love.. ~ Martin Amis

Jim lights a cigarette and leans indolently back on his elbow smiling at Laura with a warmth and charm which lights her inwardly with altar candles. ~ Tennessee Williams

The moral arc of the universe bends at the elbow of justice. ~ Martin Luther King, Jr.

Love?
Yes.
Gideon chuckled.
Why did you say yes like that?
Oh, I thought you were asking me a question.
I see.
Then he truly did see what she meant, and his heart flipped over in his chest.
Darling?
Gideon smiled at the warmth the endearment flooded him with.
Yes, Neliss?
Oh, nothing. Just fulfilling my end of the deal.
The deal?
Yes. You made me a deal.
You lost me, he sighed.
Legna lifted her head, propped an elbow up against the pillow of his chest, and settled her chin in her palm so she could look down at him.
"You said that I would get something very special if I called you that."
"Did I?" he asked, his eyes brightening with speculation as he thought back on it. "Actually, I think you have that confused with the deal about saying my name."
"I like your name," she said with a smile. "I always thought mine was awful snobbish. But yours has me beat hands down."
"My name is one of the finest and oldest names in all of our history."
"That's only because you have lived to be such an older tosser."
"Tosser?"
"British vernacular, luv."
"What are you, my dialect coach all of a sudden? Is this your idea of postcoital pillow talk?"
Legna giggled, apologizing with a clinging kiss on his lips. It clearly calmed him, making him smile in a very cat-versus-canary way.
"Is there something you would prefer I say?" she asked compliantly.
"That yes a few sentences ba ~ Jacquelyn Frank

Is what I am not saying, young LaMont Chu, is why you cease to seem to give total effort of self since you begin with the clipping pictures of great professional figures for your adhesive tape and walls. No? Because, privileged gentlemen and boys I am saying, is always something that is too. Cold. Hot. Wet and dry. Very bright sun and you see the purple dots. Very bright hot and you have no salt. Outside is wind, the insects which like the sweat. Inside is smell of heaters, echo, being jammed in together, tarp is overclose to baseline, not enough of room, bells inside clubs which ring the hour loudly to distract, clunk of machines vomiting sweet cola for coins. Inside roof too low for the lob. Bad lighting, so. Or outside: the bad surface. Oh no look no: crabgrass in cracks along baseline. Who could give the total, with crabgrass. Look here is low net high net. Opponent's relatives heckle, opponent cheats, linesman in semifinal is impaired or cheats. You hurt. You have the injury. Bad knee and back. Hurt groin area from not stretching as asked. Aches of elbow. Eyelash in eye. The throat is sore. A too pretty girl in audience, watching. Who could play like this? Big crowd overwhelming or too small to inspire. Always something.' [p.458] ~ David Foster Wallace

Mephistopheles waved her off as she left. "One more woman running off with another man. I'm losing my touch."

"Have you considered you might be a Thorne in their sides?" Thomas asked. "You certainly can be a pric - "

"Thomas," I whispered harshly, pinching the inside of his elbow.

"How clever," Mephistopheles said blandly. "You've made my name into a pun. What other comedic brilliance will you think of next? I wish I could say I missed this" - he motioned between himself and Thomas - "but that sort of lying doesn't pay my bills."

"Nor do the gemstones on your suits," Thomas muttered.

"Are you still jealous about my jackets?" Mephistopheles grinned.

"For the love of the queen," I said, interrupting before they really got into it. ~ Kerri Maniscalco

The woman moved in a blur, one elbow driving backwards into the assassin's stomach. She twisted round and drove her knee into the man's crotch. A shout burst from Kalam as he reeled back a step, then fell to the ground with a heavy thump. ~ Steven Erikson

We stood there, the three of us, our jaws firmly planted on the floor. Aunt Lil recovered first. She nudged me with her elbow and said with a cackle of delight, I think you guys should make some more of those brownies, 'cause that boy looks hungry. ~ Darynda Jones

Never punch from the elbow."
"Of course not," I said. "Only a stupidibus would fight like that."
Guess what? I can punch as well as make people laugh. ~ Franny Billingsley

I'm definitely an elbow-room guy. ~ Ryan Kwanten

My father was a Norwegian who came from a small town near Oslo. He broke his arm at the elbow when he was 14, and they amputated it. ~ Roald Dahl

He's at ease, his body sculpted to the music, his shoulder searching the other shoulder, his right toe knowing the left knee, the height, the depth, the form, the control, the twist of his wrist, the bend of his elbow, the tilt of his neck, notes digging into arteries, and he is in the air now, forcing the legs up beyond muscular memory, one last press of the thighs, an elongation of form, a loosening of human contour, he goes higher and is skyheld. ~ Colum McCann

It's going to be the year of the sharp elbow and the quick tongue. ~ George W. Bush

Sungold blew impatiently and began to dig a hole with one foot. She booted his elbow with her toe and he stopped, but after a moment he lowered his head and blew again, harder, and she could feel him shifting his weight, considering if she might let him dig just a small hole. ~ Robin McKinley

Time to say thank you and farewell! trills Effie at my elbow. It's one of those moments when I just love her compulsive punctuality. We collect Cinna and Portia, and she escorts us around to say good-bye to important people, then herds us to the door. ~ Suzanne Collins

I put down my pencil and sigh. "Could you go eat that somewhere else? I swear, you must be the noisiest apple eater in the history of time."
One shoulder goes up in a shrug. "I like it here. And I love eating apples."
The way his voice lowers on the second sentence gives off the hint of an innuendo. It riles me up enough to respond harshly, "I'm sure you do, Jason. I'm sure you love eating all different sorts of apples."
Jesus Christ, did I just say that? Kill me now.
"Actually, I'm loyal to just the one apple," he counters.
The way his eyes dance and shine makes me want to laugh. I hate how he does this to me. Our conversation right now is verging on the ridiculous. Still, I don't let it drop.
"You can't be loyal to only one apple. Once it's eaten it's gone, and you need to go find a new one."
"Oh, I could eat my apple over and over again without ever feeling the need to find a new one."
"Maybe your apple doesn't want to be eaten. Maybe your apple is tired of your apple-eating ways."
He leans forward, one elbow resting on the table, his gaze growing even darker. "On the contrary, my apple loves to be eaten. In fact, my apple is a little cranky right now because she hasn't been eaten in a while."
The bloody cheek of him! ~ L.H. Cosway

Angel, who was filling the vats with his handful, suddenly ceased, and laid his hands flat upon hers. Her sleeves were rolled far above the elbow, and bending lower he kissed the inside vein of her soft arm. ~ Thomas Hardy

I recommend the French beret, for it gives the impression of just the right soft toughness, a veritable wave of sophisticated brain matter. It is the kind of hat that inspires a person to grow into it, to become the person they never knew they could be. The space between the top of the head and the beginnings of hat is among the most intimate of areas: earlobe behinds, elbow insides, and anuses. One must pay heed to such spaces for they hold a potential not fully known (but generally agreed to be vast). ~ Meia Geddes

Our hero's unreasoning rage was fed by a not unreasonable jealousy. It was clear to him that Zuleika had forgotten his existence. To-day, as soon as he had killed her love, she had shown him how much less to her was his love than the crowd's. And now again it was only the crowd she cared for. He followed with his eyes her long slender figure as she threaded her way in and out of the crowd, sinuously, confidingly, producing a penny from one lad's elbow, a threepenny-bit from between another's neck and collar, half a crown from another's hair, and always repeating in that flute-like voice of hers: Well, this is rather queer! ~ Max Beerbohm

It was an old hunter in camp and the hunter shared tobacco with him and told him of the buffalo and the stands he'd made against them, laid up in a sag on some rise with the dead animals scattered over the grounds and the herd beginning to mill and the riflebarrel so hot the wiping patches sizzled in the bore and the animals by the thousands and the tens of thousands and the hides pegged out over actual square miles of ground the teams of skinners spelling one another around the clock and the shooting and shooting weeks and months till the bore shot slick and the stock shot loose at the tang and their shoulders were yellow and blue to the elbow and the tandem wagons groaned away over the prairie twenty and twenty-two ox teams and the flint hides by the hundred ton and the meat rotting on the ground and the air whining with flies and the buzzards and ravens and the night a horror of snarling and feeding with the wolves half-crazed and wallowing in the carrion.

I seen Studebaker wagons with six and eight ox teams headed out for the grounds not hauling a thing but lead. Just pure galena. Tons of it. On this ground alone between the Arkansas River and the Concho there were eight million carcasses for that's how many hides reached the railhead. Two years ago we pulled out from Griffin for a last hunt. We ransacked the country. Six weeks. Finally found a herd of eight animals and we killed them and come in. They're gone. Ever one of them that God ever made is gone as if ~ Cormac McCarthy

Whither thou know'est thy ass from thy elbow ~ J.R. Ward

One more time. I'm - not - yours. And hitting Cade like that was so . . . so wrong! You could have killed him!"
"Do you want me tae?"
She started away. "I'm going to check on him - "
"Then you do want me tae!" He raised her elbow and spun her around, a wild look in his eyes. His shirt was ripped almost free, displaying his sheening chest, still heaving from the battle. "This is a vulnerable time. I have no' claimed you, and the full moon nears. Yet you receive the attentions of another male? Witch, you play with fire!" He swiped the back of his hand over his bleeding temple. "Forget the demon. He knows you're no' his. If he'd truly believed you were, he would have put up more of a fight. He dinna even hit a rage state."
"You didn't change to your werewolf form for me!"
"I dinna want you to see it!" he roared, grasping her upper arms. "Doona ever doubt my desire for you - if I truly was in a contest for the right to have you, I'd have bitten his goddamned throat free, then laid it at your feet in offer!"
Her lips parted. She thought she'd just caught a glimpse of the inner workings of how a Lykae male thought.
And she . . . liked it. ~ Kresley Cole

His vulnerability allowed me to let my guard down, and gently and methodically, he tore apart my well-constructed dam. Waves of tender feelings were lapping over the top and slipping through the cracks. The feelings flooded through and spilled into me. It was frightening opening myself up to feel love for someone again. My heart pounded hard and thudded audibly in my chest. I was sure he could hear it.
Ren's expression changed as he watched my face. His look of sadness was replaced by one of concern for me.
What was the next step? What should I do? What do I say? How do I share what I'm feeling?
I remembered watching romance movies with my mom, and our favorite saying was "shut up and kiss her already!" We'd both get frustrated when the hero or heroine wouldn't do what was so obvious to the two of us, and as soon as a tense, romantic moment occurred, we'd both repeat our mantra. I could hear my mom's humor-filled voice in my mind giving me the same advice: "Kells, shut up and kiss him already!"
So, I got a grip on myself, and before I changed my mind, I leaned over and kissed him.
He froze. He didn't kiss me back. He didn't push me away. He just stopped…moving. I pulled back, saw the shock on his face, and instantly regretted my boldness. I stood up and walked away, embarrassed. I wanted to put some distance between us as I frantically tried to rebuild the walls around my heart.
I heard him move. He slid his hand under my elbow and turned me arou ~ Colleen Houck

Condom," she gasped.
A movement stopped.
"What?"
Phoebe felt the earth open up in preparation of swallowing her. How could she have not mentioned this before?
"I'm not on anything right now," she whispered. "Birth control. I'm not on the Pill." She gestured helplessly.
"Shit, fuck, damn."
Disappointment tied her in knots. "I was really only interested in that middle part," she joked.
There was a second of silence, followed by a low chuckle. "You're never predictable, Phoebe. I'll give you that. Cross your fingers."
"What?"
"Cross your fingers. I might have a condom in my shaving kit."
There was movement and rustling, then the sound of a zipper being opened.
"I'm going to have to put on the light."
She briefly debated being polite and closing her eyes, but who was she kidding? She wanted to see Zane naked. In preparation, she raised up on one elbow and stared in his general direction. When the light came on, she saw all she wanted and more.
He was kneeling at the end of the sleeping bag. Naked, aroused and more physically perfect than any man had a right to be. She saw the definition in his arms, the broad strength of his chest and his flat stomach before lowering her attention to his large, hard penis.
The physical proof of his desire for her made her so happy, she nearly cried. Her other instinct was to part her legs, tell him never mind with birth control and protection and demand he take her right there ~ Susan Mallery

can. "New York City, huh?" "Yup." She rolled up her sleeves and dipped down into the water. And that was when I noticed the scar. "Jeez. What's that?" It started just inside her left elbow and ran down to the wrist like a long pink twisted worm. She saw where I was looking. "Accident," she said. "We were in a car." Then she looked back into the water where you could see her reflection shimmering. "Jeez." But then she didn't seem to want to talk much after that. "Got any more of 'em?" I don't know why scars are always so fascinating to boys, but they are, it's a fact of life, and I just couldn't help it. I couldn't shut up about it yet. Even though I knew she wanted me to, even though ~ Jack Ketchum

The guy with Bennett let go of his elbow and started patting his pockets. He came out with the switchblade, now closed up again, and a Sig Sauer automatic, a P226, I thought, favored by Special Forces everywhere. ~ Lee Child

I bunched the squirrel-fur hat up under my head and left the pack for Mal to use as a pillow. Then I pulled my coat close around me and huddled beneath the new furs. I was nodding off when I heard Mal return and settle himself beside me, his back pressed comfortably against mine. As I drifted into sleep, I felt like I could still taste the sugar from that sweet roll on my tongue, feel the pleasure of laughter gusting through me. We'd been robbed. We'd almost been killed. We were being hunted by the most powerful man in Ravka. But we were friends again, and sleep came more easily than it had in a long time. At some point during the night, I woke to Mal's snoring. I jabbed him in the back with my elbow. He rolled onto his side, muttered something in his sleep, and threw his arm over me. A minute later he started snoring again, but this time I didn't wake him. ~ Leigh Bardugo

You don't really see a muscle as a part of you, in a way. You see it as a thing. You look at it as a thing and you say well this thing has to be built a little longer, the bicep has to be longer; or the tricep has to be thicker here in the elbow area. And you look at it and it doesn't even seem to belong to you. Like a sculpture. Then after looking at it a sculptor goes in with his thing and works a little bit, and you do maybe then some extra forced reps to get this lower part out. You form it. Just like a sculpture. ~ Arnold Schwarzenegger

What's your name?'

She planted one elbow on the stretch of counter Zuri had wiped so she could lean closer and draw out both syllables. 'Savine.'

'That's a lovely name.'

'Oh, if you enjoy the tip, you'll go mad for the whole thing.'

'That so?' he purred at her. 'How does it go?'

'Savine… dan…' And she leaned even closer to deliver the punchline. 'Glokta.'

If a name had been a knife and she had cut his throat with hers, the blood could not have drained more quickly from his face. He gave a strangled cough, took a step back and nearly fell over one of his own barrels. ~ Joe Abercrombie

Taylen," Glate whispered, wrapping his arm around my waist. "Are you okay?"
Was I okay? No. I was a complete and utter wreck, but there was no way in hell I was going to show him that. "I'm dandy."
"You're a terrible liar." He propped himself up on his elbow, and leaned in closer, resting his chin on my shoulder. My body was well aware of how close he was, and it took everything in me to fight the urge to turn and face him. Teenage hormones were the absolute worst. "You know how I can tell?" he asked, running a single finger down my arm.
"How?" the word barely escaped my lips.
"Your voice trembles," he whispered. Glate moved his hand to my hips and pulled me back towards him. "Whenever you lie, you get this slight tremble in your voice. It's almost as if you're scared to admit the truth, so you try to conjure up a lie, but the fear engulfs your words on the way out, calling your bluff. ~ Nicole Sobon

We [Elbow] have had some luck with media syncs in film and on TV. We'd love to do a soundtrack with a really cool director. ~ Guy Garvey

Quantin crept closer to the knoll. A pungent smell passed through his nostrils up into his brain. Attracted by the poppies' scarlet smears, he was about to take another step when he felt a hand on his elbow. A man in a poppy-red jacket, his pupils dilated, smiled warningly.
"No strangers allowed. Go away."
"I don't understand ... "
"Understanding is strictly forbidden. Even dreams have the right to dream. Isn't that so? Now go away. ~ Sigizmund Krzhizhanovsky

Sometimes you buy a book, powerfully drawn to it, but then it just sits on the shelf. Maybe you flick through it, the ghost of your original purpose at your elbow, but it's not so much rereading as re-dusting. Then one day you pick it up, take notice of the contents; your inner life realigns. ~ Hilary Mantel

She propped herself up on one elbow so that her thick mane of silky hair spilled across her body, a thin veil over her breasts.
His gut clenched hotly at the sight, his dark eyes going black with a sudden flare of desire. She laughed softly, the sound sultry in the night. "I think you could have sex all night and never be sated."
He bent down to taste temptation, his tongue bringing her nipple to a hard peak. "I would very much like to give it a try, sivamet--my love. I could lose myself in your body. ~ Christine Feehan

Is it time to go?" she asked, propping herself onto her elbow. He tugged up the collar of his coat and slipped his feet into his boots. Then he looked at her with a seriousness that sent a jolt of fear through her. "We can't leave." "Sure we can." She pushed herself up but was immediately overcome by a wave of dizziness. "Even if you were up to leaving, which you're not" - he nodded at her weak attempt at sitting up - "I let the horse go last night. It was her only chance of surviving. Hopefully she made her way back to the stable." "We could walk - " "Not without snowshoes. The snow's too deep and the wind too harsh." She leaned back again, suddenly weary and cold. "Then we're stuck here?" "Until a rescue party comes for us." He pulled on his gloves. "Or until spring. Whichever comes first." He gave a halfhearted grin at his attempt at a joke. ~ Jody Hedlund

He lifted up on one elbow and looked down at her. What she wouldn't give to see what he saw, to know what made him look at her that way. ~ Sarah Addison Allen

Without a sound, Scarlet kicked out her legs and sent the whore to her ass. A second later, Scarlet had again closed the distance between them. She fisted the goddess's robe, momentum giving her strength as she flung the goddess around and around before releasing her and sending her soaring. Like Scarlet had done, NeeMah slammed into nothing. She wasn't as quick to get up, though, and Scarlet used that to her advantage, rushing forward and elbow-diving for all she was worth. Smack. Bone cracked. Gideon couldn't help himself. He whooped, slinging popcorn in every direction. Cronus leveled him with a glare. What? he silently mouthed, then turned back to the massacre. Blood ~ Gena Showalter

Have you kissed many boys before?" he asked quietly.
His question brought my mind back into focus. I raised an eyebrow. "Boys? That's an assumption."
Noah laughed, the sound low and husky. "Girls, then?"
"No."
"Not many girls? Or not many boys?"
"Neither," I said. Let him make of that what he would.
"How many?"
"Why - "
"I am taking away that word. You are no longer allowed to use it. How many?"
My cheeks flushed, but my voice was steady as I answered. "One."
At this, Noah leaned in impossibly closer, the slender muscles in his forearm flexing as he bent his elbow to bring himself nearer to me, almost touching. I was heady with the proximity of him and grew legitimately concerned that my heart might explode. Maybe Noah wasn't asking. Maybe I didn't mind. I closed my eyes and felt Noah's five o' clock graze my jaw, and the faintest whisper of his lips at my ear.
"He was doing it wrong. ~ Michelle Hodkin

But the loneliness was still on Danny and demanded an outlet.
'Here we sit,' he began at last.
' - broken-hearted,' Pilon added rhythmically.
'No, this is not a poem,' Danny said. 'Here we sit, homeless. We gave our lives for our country, and now we have no roof over our head.'
'We never did have,' Pilon added helpfully.
Danny drank dreamily until Pilon touched his elbow and took the bottle.
'That reminds me,' Danny said, 'of a story of a man who owned two whore-houses
' His mouth dropped open. 'Pilon! my little fat duck of a baby friend. I had forgotten! I am an heir! I own two houses.'
'Whore-houses?' Pilon asked hopefully. 'Thou art a drunken liar,' he continued.
'No, Pilon. I tell the truth. The viejo died. I am the heir. I, the favourite grandson.'
'Thou art the only grandson,' said the realist Pilon. ~ John Steinbeck

Writing with voice is writing into which someone has breathed. It has that fluency, rhythm, and liveliness that exist naturally in the speech of most people when they are enjoying a conversation ... Writing with real voice has the power to make you pay attention and understand
the words go deep. ~ Peter Elbow

The two of you came this close to getting torn to shreds! Your father just found you, and he doesn't want to lose you. Do you have any idea what he has been through to protect you since you got here?"
[...]
"No." Talon's voice was subdued, but only slightly. Teenage defiance still seethed beneath the surface. "He didn't tell me."
I leaned back in my chair, blew out my breath, and closed my eyes. "And he probably won't." Tired had surrendered to exhausted. "He wouldn't want you to worry. Because he loves you."
When Talon didn't respond, I opened one eye and looked at him. "He hasn't told you that, either, has he?" I asked wearily.
"Not exactly."
My elbow was resting on the chair arm, and I dropped my head onto my upraised hand. I snorted. "Not exactly." I shook my head. "Men." I didn't lift my head off my hand; it felt too good to be resting on something. I turned it about an inch and I could see Piaras just fine.
His face was a shade or two short of a full, blazing blush. "I know you do." His words tumbled out in a rush. "You don't have to tell me. ~ Lisa Shearin

You can find meanness in the least of creatures, but when God made man the Devil was at his elbow ~ Cormac McCarthy

Would we get on well together, do you think?" she asked dubiously, daring to play with the knot of his necktie, loosening the gray watered-silk fabric with her fingertips. "We're opposites in nearly every regard."
Inclining his head, Marcus nuzzled the tender inside of her wrist, his lips brushing the blue-tinted veins that lay like fine lacework beneath the skin. "I am coming to believe that taking a wife who is exactly like myself would be the worst conceivable decision I could make."
"Perhaps you're right," Lillian mused, letting her fingertips curl into the gleaming close-cut hair at the side of his head. "You need a wife who won't let you have your way all the time. One who…" She paused with a little shiver as his tongue touched a delicate spot near her inner elbow. "Who," she continued, struggling to gather her thoughts, "would be willing to take you down a notch when you become too pompous…"
"I am never pompous," Marcus said, drawing the edge of her gown away from the vulnerable curve of her throat.
Her breath hitched as he began to kiss the wing of her collarbone. "What would you call it when you carry on as if you always know best, and anyone who disagrees with you is an idiot?"
"Most of the time, the people who disagree with me do happen to be idiots. I can't help that. ~ Lisa Kleypas

He had one arm under my head, the other wrapped lovingly around my stomach. I glanced at my ring and turned it every which way so the light streaming in through the blinds would catch perfectly on the diamonds. Brandon's hand started on slow circles when Gummy Bear's elbow skimmed across my side as he shifted. "It ~ Molly McAdams

He all but held his breath as he waited for her to force that façade back into place. Or to leave his side just so he would no longer see her girlish delight at the museum and the contents that awaited them. Instead, she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow and looked up at him with those same shining eyes and wide, real smile. "I cannot wait another moment to see everything - shall we go in?" For a moment, he couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't move as he stared into her eyes and saw so much beauty, so much truth…but then he shook his head and led her into the museum. This was a rare opportunity. He refused to miss a moment of it while he pondered what he had done to deserve it. ~ Jess Michaels

With his finger curled under his lip, his elbow on the arm of the couch, he merely studied me as I recounted the memories, and now he was eager for the tale to go on. ~ Anne Rice

You're a freak. But I really can't accept these-'
Were you raised in a barn? Don't be ruuuuuude, my boy. They're a gift.'
Blay shook his head. 'Take them, John. You're just going to lose this argument, and it will save us from the theatrics.'
Theatrics?' Qhuinn leaped up and assumed a Roman oratory pose. 'Whither thou knowest thy ass from thy elbow, young scribe?'
Blay blushed. 'Come on-'
Qhuinn threw himself at Blay, grasping onto the guy's shoulders and hanging his full weight off him. 'Hold me. Your insult has left me breathless. I'm agasp.'
Blay grunted and scrambled to keep Qhuinn up off the floor. 'That's agape.'
Agasp sounds better.'
Blay was trying not to smile, trying not to be delighted, but his eyes were sparkling like sapphires and his cheeks were getting red. With a silent laugh, John sat on one of the locker room benches, shook out his pair of white socks, and pulled them on under his new old jeans. 'You sure, Qhuinn? 'Cause I have a feeling they're going to fit and you might change your mind.
Qhuinn abruptly lifted himself off Blay and straightened his clothes with a sharp tug. 'And now you offend my honor.' Facing off at John, he flipped into a fencing stance.
Touché.'
Blay laughed. 'That's en garde, you damn fool.'
Qhuinn shot a look over his shoulder. 'ça va, Brutus?'
Et tu?'
That would be tutu, I believe, and you can keep the cross-dressing to yourself, ya perv.'
Qhuinn flashed a b ~ J.R. Ward

Miles clutched Quinn's elbow. "Don't Panic."
"I'm not panicking," Quinn observed, "I'm watching you panic. It's more entertaining . ~ Lois McMaster Bujold

There's elbow room, a value we've forgotten we ever had. ~ Fausto Brizzi

Our proper mode in situations where demand was high and supply low was to elbow, jostle, crowd, and hustle, and, if all that failed, to bribe, flatter, exaggerate, and lie. I was uncertain whether these traits were genetic, deeply cultural, or simply a rapid evolutionary development. We had been forced to adapt to ten years of living in a bubble economy pumped up purely by American imports; three decades of on-again, off-again war, including the sawing in half of the country in '54 by foreign magicians and the brief Japanese interregnum of World War II; and the previous century of avuncular French molestation. ~ Viet Thanh Nguyen

Ian, about Elizabeth Cameron. Her duenna said some things-"
That alarmingly pleasant yet distant smile returned to Ian's face. "I'll spare you further conversation, Duncan. It's over."
"The discussion or-"
"All of it."
"It didn't look over to me!" Duncan snapped, nudged to the edge by Ian's infuriating calm. "That scene I witnessed-"
"You witnessed the end."
He said that, Duncan noted, with the same deadly finality, the same amused calm with which he'd spoken of his grandfather. It was as if he'd resolved matters to his complete satisfaction in his own mind, and nothing and no one could ever invade the place where he put them to rest. Based on Ian's last reaction to the matter of Elizabeth Cameron, she was now relegated to the same category as the Duke of Stanhope. Frustrated, Duncan jerked the bottle of brandy off the table at Ian's elbow and splashed some into his glass. "There's something I've never told you," he said angrily.
"And that is?" Ian inquired.
"I hate it when you turn all pleasant and amused. I'd rather see you furious! At least then I know I still have a chance of reaching you."
To Duncan's boundless annoyance, Ian merely picked up his book and started reading again. ~ Judith McNaught

And then Finley seized the spindly metal arm attached to her throat. A normal human would have no hope against such strength, but Finley was not normal. She snapped the arm at the elbow joint and then ripped the offending hand from her neck.
Holding the arm by the hand and wrist, she used it to beat the automaton ... ~ Kady Cross

...But that is not my scene and I'm outta here."
His hand shot out and grabbed me above the elbow. "Indeed, but you'll accompany me, I think." The stone face cracked and he almost smiled. "I insist on the pleasure of your company. We have much to talk about."
"My ass! ~ MaryJanice Davidson

But in 2000, the injuries really started to kick in and my elbow gave a lot of problems. At the end of the year I had to take 20 months off before I could come back into the game. ~ Richard Krajicek

Lady Glossip: Mr. Wooster, how would you support a wife? Bertie Wooster: Well, I suppose it depends on who's wife it was, a little gentle pressure beneath the elbow while crossing a busy street usually fits the bill. ~ P.G. Wodehouse

Thanks for getting me out of there," I murmur, lacing my fingers around my knees, and looking up at him on his step.
"Yeah. You looked a little green. "
"I don't handle crowds too well. I've always been that way, I guess."
"You might get in trouble," he warns, staring at me in that strange, hungry way that unravels me. He strokes his bottom lip with a finger. For a flash of a second, his eyes look strange. Different. All glowing irises and thin dark pupils. Almost drake-like. I blink to clear my vision. His eyes are normal again. Just my imagination in overdrive. I'm probably projecting missing home and Az - everything--onto him. "Pep rallies are mandatory," he continues. "A lot of people saw you leave. Teachers included."
"They saw you leave, too," I point out.
He leans to the side, propping an elbow on one of the steps behind him. "I'm not worried about that. I've been in trouble before." He smiles a crooked grin and holds up crossed fingers. "The principal and I are like this. The guy loves me. Really."
Laughter spills from me, rusty and hoarse.
His grin makes me feel good. Free. Like I'm not running from anything. Like I could stay here in this world, if only I have him.
The thought unsettles me. Sinks heavily in my chest. Because I can't have him. Not really. All he can ever be for me is a temporary fix.
"But you're worried I'll get in trouble?" I try not to show how much this pleases me. I've managed to ignore him for days n ~ Sophie Jordan

have to say. He just has to give an elbow room for other people's truths and answers. ~ QuickRead

Matthew had sheepishly unfolded the dress from its paper swathings and held it out with a deprecatory glance at Marilla, who feigned to be contemptuously filling the teapot, but nevertheless watched the scene out of the corner of her eye with a rather interested air.
Anne took the dress and looked at it in reverent silence. Oh, how pretty it was
a lovely soft brown gloria with all the gloss of silk; a skirt with dainty frills and shirrings; a waist elaborately pintucked in the most fashinable way, with a little ruffle of filmy lace at the neck. But the sleeves
they were the crowning glory! Long elbow cuffs, and above them two beautiful puffs divided by rows of shirring and bows of brown-silk ribbon. ~ L.M. Montgomery

is Whitney? Is that your dealer?" "Whitney Houston," Mom said. "You know, dear. She was that singer who sang that song you like that Helena performed." "'Hit Me Baby, One More Time?" "That's Britney, dear." "'Dirty?" "That was Christina." "Umbrella?" "And that was Rihanna. Larry, you're embarrassing yourself. You have a gay son, for God's sake. How can you not know your divas?" Mom sounded affronted. "Paul? Paul! If you can hear me, don't listen to your father! He obviously doesn't know his ass from his elbow!" "Language," Dad scolded. "And I know my divas. I know them very well. What about that Woman Goo-Goo that Helena performs like? ~ T.J. Klune

A pale, bored woman in white ankle-socks and a white tasselled beret was sitting on a bentwood chair at the corner entrance to the verandah of the writer's club, where there was an opening in the creeper-grown trellis. In front of her on a plain kitchen table lay a large book like a ledger, in which for no known reason the woman wrote the names of the people entering the restaurant. She stopped Koroviev and Behemoth.

'Your membership cards?' she said, staring in surprise at Koroviev's pince-nez, at Behemoth's Primus and grazed elbow.

'A thousand apologies, madam, but what membership cards?' asked Koroviev in astonishment.

'Are you writers?' asked the woman in return.

'Indubitably,' replied Koroviev with dignity.

'Where are your membership cards?' the woman repeated.

'Dear lady...' Koroviev began tenderly.

'I'm not a dear lady,' interrupted the woman.

'Oh, what a shame,' said Koroviev in a disappointed voice and went on: 'Well, if you don't want to be a dear lady, which would have been delightful, you have every right not to be. But look here - if you wanted to make sure that Dostoyevsky was a writer, would you really ask him for his membership card? Why, you only have to take any five pages of one of his novels and you won't need a membership card to convince you that the man's a writer. I don't suppose he ever had a membership card, anyway! What do you think?' said Koroviev, turning to ~ Mikhail Bulgakov

Hours later, Adam propped himself up on an elbow and stared down at Gabrielle, pondering what made beauty.
He thought he was beginning to understand. It wasn't symmetry of features; it wasn't perfection. It was uniqueness. That which one person had that no other possessed. That which was only their own. ~ Karen Marie Moning

Shanks moaned, stirring. "You broke my nuts"
So that was what my elbow had hit. "Sorry." My voice cracked. ~ Lili St. Crow

Saddlebags and called for water to be heated. He knelt and removed his outer tunic and rolled the white sleeves of the inner one. He rubbed astringent oil into his hands and along his forearms to the elbow, to the amusement of the nephew, who drew a wrongheaded moral from the notion of a physician who medicated himself and not his patient. The stranger leaned in to sniff at the Italian's breath, pressed an ear against his chest and took the poor fellow's pulse. While he worked, he asked about the ~ Michael Chabon

But…but that's tragic! To go through life without color? Unable to appreciate art, or beauty?"
He laughed. "Now, sweet-hold your brush before you paint me a martyr's halo. It's not as though I'm blind. I have a great appreciation for art, as I believe we've discussed. And as for beauty…I don't need to know whether your eyes are blue or green or lavender to know that they're uncommonly lovely."
"No one has lavender eyes."
"Don't they?" His gaze caught hers and refused to let go. Leaning forward, he continued, "Did that tutor of yours ever tell you this? That your eyes are ringed with a perfect circle a few shades darker than the rest of the…don't they call it the iris?"
Sophia nodded.
"The iris." He propped his elbow on the table and leaned forward, his gaze searching hers intently. "An apt term it is, too. There are these lighter rays that fan out from the center, like petals. And when your pupils widen-like that, right there-your eyes are like two flowers just coming into bloom. Fresh. Innocent."
She bowed her head, mixing a touch of lead white into the sea-green paint on her palette. He leaned closer still, his voice a hypnotic whisper. "But when you take delight in teasing me, looking up through those thick lashes, so saucy and self-satisfied…" She gave him a sharp look.
He snapped his fingers. "There! Just like that. Oh, sweet-then those eyes are like two opera dancers smiling from behind big, feathered fans. Coy. Beckoning."
Sophia ~ Tessa Dare

I am Hilton Head 's ONLY medically-trained massage therapist. I am a graduate of a New York medical Massage College, with over 22 Years of experience. I do a deep tissue massage that is extremely sensative, with no pain involved. I am trained in both Oriental and Western techniques, and treats a host of physical problems, including lower back pain, fibromyalgia, tennis elbow, migraines, and much more. I am also available for in-home massage. ~ Jan Kasmir

He was just entering the club ahead of me, a tall and rather emaciated man of about seventy, a little unsteady on his feet. He tripped over the doormat as he went in and stumbled forward; the hall porter jumped out and caught him by the elbow. ~ Nevil Shute

Okay.First things first. Three things you don't want me to know about you."
"What?" I gaped at him.
"You're the one who says we don't know each other.So let's cut to the chase."
Oh,but this was too easy:
1. I am wearing my oldest, ugliest underwear.
2.I think your girlfriend is evil and should be destroyed.
3.I am a lying, larcenous creature who talks to dead people and thinks she should be your girlfriend once the aforementioned one is out of the picture.
I figured that was just about everything. "I don't think so-"
"Doesn't have to be embarrassing or major," Alex interrupted me, "but it has to be something that costs a little to share." When I opened my mouth to object again, he pointed a long finger at the center of my chest. "You opened the box,Pandora.So sit."
There was a funny-shaped velour chair near my knees. I sat. The chair promptly molded itself to my butt. I assumed that meant it was expensive, and not dangerous. Alex flopped onto the bed,settling on his side with his elbow bent and his head propped on his hand.
"Can't you go first?" I asked.
"You opened the box..."
"Okay,okay. I'm thinking."
He gave me about thirty seconds. Then, "Time."
I took a breath. "I'm on full scholarship to Willing." One thing Truth or Dare has taught me is that you can't be too proud and still expect to get anything valuable out of the process.
"Next."
"I'm terrified of a lot things, including lightning, driv ~ Melissa Jensen

I like people like Ani DiFranco, a band called Elbow, of course John Lennon, George Harrison, Barry White. I have a lot of different influences and hopefully they all come together and make some sense. ~ Billy Boyd

He touched her chin. His eyes never left hers, and she almost felt as if he'd touched those as well. And then, with the softest, most tender caress imaginable, he kissed her. Sophie didn't just feel loved; she felt revered.
"I should wait until Monday," he said, "but I don't want to."
"I don't want you to wait," she whispered.
He kissed her again, this time with a bit more urgency. "You're so beautiful," he murmured. "Everything I ever dreamed of."
His lips found her cheek, her chin, her neck, and every kiss, every nibble robbed her of balance and breath. She was sure her legs would give out, sure her strength would fail her under his tender onslaught, and just when she was convinced she'd crumple to the floor, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed.
"In my heart," he vowed, settling her against the quilts and pillows, "you are my wife."
Sophie's breath caught.
"After our wedding it will be legal," he said, stretching out alongside her, "blessed by God and country, but right now - " His voice grew hoarse as he propped himself up on one elbow so that he could gaze into her eyes. "Right now it is true."
Sophie reached up and touched his face. "I love you," she whispered. "I have always loved you. I think I loved you before I even knew you."
He leaned down to kiss her anew, but she stopped him with a breathy, "No, wait."
He paused, mere inches from her lips.
"At the masquerade," she said, her voice ~ Julia Quinn

He got up. It was too early to go to bed; at least, he was not in the mood for it. He pined for a bit of amusement - something cheap and easy. A seat in the pictures, cigarettes, beer. Useless! No money to pay for any of them. He would read KING LEAR and forget this filthy century. Finally, however, it was THE ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES that he took from the mantelpiece. SHERLOCK HOLMES was his favorite of all books, because he knew it by heart. The oil in the lamp was giving out and it was getting beastly cold. Gordon dragged the quilt from his bed, wrapped it round his legs and sat down to read. His right elbow on the table, his hands under his coat to keep them warm, he read through "The Adventure of the Speckled Band." The little gas-mantle sighed above, the circular flame of the oil-lamp burned low, a thin bracket of fire, giving out no more heat than a candle. ~ George Orwell

Mollie?" He placed his hand on her shoulder, willing her to look at him. "Mollie, let's go someplace where we can talk," he said gently. Her entire body stiffened. "I've got work to do," she mumbled. Was it his imagination or did she inch a little closer to the blond man beside her? Zack grasped her elbow and leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Mollie, get your backside off that stool and come outside with me. I'll buy you a pretzel, and you can tan my hide for being late. ~ Elizabeth Camden

We consult astrology charts like the Babylonians, try to make our children into our own image with a firm hand like the Romans, elbow others to get a breath-quickening glimpse of the queen in her ritual procession, and confess to the priests and attend church. And we wonder why, with all this power capital drawn from so many sources, we are deeply anxious about the meaning of our lives. The reason is plain enough: none of these, nor all of them taken together, represents an integrated world conception into which we fit ourselves with pure belief and trust. ~ Ernest Becker

I think he got an incidental elbow in the face, messed up his pretty red lips a little bit. But other than that he'll be fine. ~ Shaquille O'Neal

This was not the way Ian intended his wedding night should be, and as he removed his clothes by the light of the single candle burning across the room, he was determined that it would at least end as he intended. Elizabeth felt the bed sink beneath his weight and drew her whole body into the smallest possible space. He moved onto one side, leaning up on an elbow, and his hand touched her cheek.
When he said nothing Elizabeth opened her eyes, staring straight ahead, and in her agitated state, lying naked next to a man who she knew was undoubtedly naked as well, she was amass of disjointed emotions: Wordsworth's warnings tolled in one part of her mind while another part warned her that her own ignorance of the marital act didn't relieve her of keeping their bargain; she felt tricked somehow, as well.
Lying beside her, Ian put his hand on her arm, his thumb stroking soothingly across her arm, listening to her rapid breathing. She swallowed audibly and said, "I realize now what you expect from your part of the betrothal bargain and what rights I granted you this morning. You must think I am the most ignorant, uninformed female alive not to have known what-"
"Don't do this, darling!" he said, and Elizabeth heard the urgency in his voice; she felt it as he bent his head and seized her lips in a hard, insistent kiss and did not stop until he drew a response from her. Only then did he speak again, and his voice was low and forceful. "This has nothing to do with rights- ~ Judith McNaught

It's in the kitchen that confidences are exchanged, that family life takes place; it's among the remains of a meal or when your're elbow-deep in peelings that you ask yourself what life is all about, rather than when you're sunk in an armchair in the sitting room. ~ Benoite Groult

Drink, my angel; everything I have inside me is yours, soak it up through the paper, through the sleeve of my coat. Suck my blood out of the hollow of my elbow where you are lying, where you are keeping warm. It's just as you please, it will always be just as you please from now on. ~ Violette Leduc

Mrs. Bantry reflected a minute and then applied an urgent conjugal elbow to her sleeping spouse. ~ Agatha Christie

And in "Elbow Room" the cast sings the glories of westward expansion in the United States, which involved the murder of native peoples and the violent conquest of half of Mexico. Among the lines in the song is one that intones, "There were plenty of fights / To win land right / But the West was meant to be / It was our Manifest Destiny?" Let it suffice to say that happily belting out a tune in which one merrily praises genocide is always easier for those whose ancestors weren't on the receiving end of the deal. ~ Tim Wise

Blue radiated psychic energy for others, but touch was where she gained hers back. She was always hugging her mother or holding Noah's hand or linking her elbow in Adam's or resting her boots on Ronan's legs as they sat on the sofa. Touching Gansey's neck just between his hair and his collar. This ~ Maggie Stiefvater

Whoa," I pinned my dress under my legs and nudged his chest with my elbow. "Put me down. This is kidnapping."
"No, it's not," he stated with a smile, keeping his eyes on the path ahead, "It's is a rescue."
"Rescue?" I scoffed, but imagined a white horse waiting for us as we burst through the doors. "I don't need to be rescued."
He stopped walking and looked down at me; I shrank into his arms a little. "The fair maiden, who is locked in the darkest tower, guarded by the cruellest beast, never believes herself to be in danger, only suffering from sorrows untold and a heart untouched. ~ A.M. Hudson

Then his lips caress mine. It's only a brush, but the warmth overheats every part of me. Leaning back, my elbow bumps into the power button on the dryer and the old appliance starts moving. Spinning. Spinning like my head. Like my heart. ~ Lauren Hammond

Joan and the Judge had gone to a Sunday brunch with friends. They would be home shortly, in good spirits probably, unless of course they saw their boy frozen to the mailbox.
So Claire and Maggie had no choice. They each grabbed a shoulder and hooked under an elbow and yanked suddenly without warning. Scotty brought his hands quickly to his mouth. All three stood quietly staring at the miniature pink circle of flesh still stuck on the mailbox.
"It looks like a little pizza," said Maggie without thinking. ~ Peter Hedges

I think the best kind of comedy is the least self conscious. I think if you just sort of let the comedy happen without the elbow nudge, did you get it, did you get it. I love straight face comedy or subtle - relatively subtle comedy. ~ Betty White

Tell me, was I the sort of person who took your elbow when cars passed on the street, touched your cheek while you talked, combed your wet hair, stopped by the side of the road in the country to point out certain constellations, standing behind you so that you had the advantage of leaning and looking up? ~ Nicole Krauss

I used to know a sculptor ... He always said that if you looked hard enough, you could see where each person carried his soul in his body. It sounds crazy, but when you saw his sculptures, it made sense. I think the same is true with those we love ... Our bodies carry our memories of them, in our muscles, in our skin, in our bones. My children are right here." She pointed to the inside curve of her elbow. "Where I held them when they were babies. Even if there comes a time when I don't know who they are anymore. I believe I will feel them here. ~ Erica Bauermeister

Somebody who's learning how to ice skate for the first time would need skates, a helmet for head protection and elbow pads, because you do fall quite a bit. ~ Gerad Adams

The red scarf at her wrist was joined by others, knotted up her arm to the elbow. A dozey, sicksweet fuming of harvest incense followed her steps, rippling in her wake. ~ Lilith Saintcrow

I did it," she said.
"Yup."
"You made fun of me when i first got here," she said. "But I did it."
"I was being friendly."
"You were being a dick," she said.
"Why do you think we like each other?" Stevie asked.
"Does it matter?"
"I don't know," she said. "I don't know how these things work."
"Neither do I. Neither does anybody."
"Some people seem to. I thin Janelle does."
"Janelle," he said, "may know everything, but she doesn't know that. And I like you because . . ."
He rolled up to his side and onto one elbow, gazing down into her face. He traced her jawline with one finger, sending such shivers down her body that she struggled not to squirm.
". . because you came to do something impossible and you did it. And you're smart. And you're really, really attractive."
There, on the floor that had been scuffed by a thousand dance shoes, under the eyes of the masks on the wall that had seen decades go by, they kissed, over and over, each one renewing the last. ~ Maureen Johnson

I do trust you." I bumped my elbow against his, a pathetic attempt at levity, but he caught me, turned me, and held me in place. We stood dangerously close. "It's myself I don't always trust," I whispered.
"That's strange." He released my arm and took a step backward. "I trust you, but I don't always trust myself. ~ Jodi Meadows

After discovering him in his threesome, I spent the next two weeks in bed suffering from a severe case of vagina elbow. It's a condition not unlike tennis elbow, but you get it from masturbating. ~ Chelsea Handler

As Miriam took her seat, Willow suddenly became conscious of the impropriety of her intimate position under Rider's arm. She straightened and would have slid to the opposite side of the swing, but he stubbornly tightened his arm around her. She tried her best to elbow his ribs, but her arm was trapped between their bodies.
"Do sit still, Willow." Miriam sighed. "It's not ladylike to squirm so. I'm not going to reprimand you for Mr. Sinclair's public mauling."
Rider tossed the dragon lady a disgruntled scowl but nonetheless allowed Willow to sit up straight and put a few inches between them. Not to be totally thwarted, however, he grapped her hand and held it in his lap. ~ Charlotte McPherren

The gross and net result of it is that people who spent most of their natural lives riding iron bicycles over the rocky roadsteads of this parish get their personalities mixed up with the personalities of their bicycle as a result of the interchanging of the atoms of each of them and you would be surprised at the number of people in these parts who are nearly half people and half bicycles ... when a man lets things go so far that he is more than half a bicycle, you will not see him so much because he spends a lot of his time leaning with one elbow on walls or standing propped by one foot at kerbstones. ~ Flann O'Brien

I'm having a permanent out-of-body experience. When it's finally done, I lie flat on my back. Glare up at the greenish, star-pricked night sky. I try not to think about what I must look like, black and bony out here on the bank of this pond. My body is all sharp angles - nothing to hold it together but armored joints and a knobby curved spine. I'm a holy fucking terror, I imagine. A walking weapon. After a while, I dig my elbow joints into the mud and sit up. My body can really move now, no longer hauling rotted bone and flesh but streamlined with these thin limbs made of light titanium. I feel like an obsidian skeleton out here. A devil dancing in the dark. I feel free. ~ Daniel H. Wilson

We told the Grisha to come alone," said Kaz.
"I'm afraid that wasn't possible," said the man. "Though Zoya is, of course, a force to be reckoned with, Genya's extraordinary gifts are ill-suited to physical confrontation. I, on the other hand, am well suited to all forms of confrontation, though I'm particularly fond of the physical."
Kaz's eyes narrowed. "Sturmhond."
"He knows me!" Sturmhond said delightedly. He nudged Genya with an elbow. "I told you I'm famous."
Zoya blew out an exasperated breath. "Thank you. He's going to be twice as insufferable now. ~ Leigh Bardugo

In the world of physics we watch a shadowgraph performance of the drama of familiar life. The shadow of my elbow rests on the shadow table as the shadow ink flows over the shadow paper. It is all symbolic, and as a symbol the physicist leaves it. Then comes the alchemist Mind who transmutes the symbols. The sparsely spread nuclei of electric force become a tangible solid; their restless agitation becomes the warmth of summer; the octave of aethereal vibrations becomes a gorgeous rainbow. Nor does the alchemy stop here. In the transmuted world new significances arise which are scarcely to be traced in the world of symbols; so that it becomes a world of beauty and purpose - and, alas, suffering and evil. ~ Arthur Stanley Eddington

I caught an elbow playing basketball ~ Michael Scofield

Most mutations involve typos: Something bumps a cell's elbow as it's copying DNA, and the wrong letter appears in a triplet - CAG becomes CCG. ~ Sam Kean