Fists Quotes

You think the speed of your fingers can match the strength of my fists? ~ Mike Tyson

And clenching your fist for the ones like us Who are oppressed by the figures of beauty. ~ Leonard Cohen

Time is compressed like the fist I close on my knee ... I hold inside it the clues and solutions and the power for what I must do now. ~ Margaret Atwood

The conversation was dangerous for it was designed to incite physical violence and, if left to continue, might have succeeded. But the pain Ranulf first wanted to inflict was humiliation, and that could not be achieved with fists.
It required intellect.And maybe a slight emotional push. ~ Michele Sinclair

I understand that you have an urgent task for me."
"I do."
"What is it?"
"I want you to go to the coffee shop and get me something to eat."
"That-" Lauren choked. "That's your idea of urgent?"
"Very urgent," Nick replied imperturbably. "I happen to be starved."
Lauren clenched her hands into fists. "To you I may mrely be some frivolous, amusing sexual object, but downstairs I have an important job to do, and Jim needs me."
"I need you,honey.I've been here since-"
"Don't you dare call me honey!" she burst out, reeling with unwanted joy at the casual endearment.
"Why not?" he cajoled, a smile lighting his face. "You're sweet."
"You won't think so if you call me honey again," Lauren promised.
His brows drew together at her tone, and Lauren had to remind herself that he was still her boss. "Oh all right!" she capitulated ungraciously. "What do you eat for breakfast?"
"Irritating secretaries," he mocked. ~ Judith McNaught

Best thunderclap came from Spengler, to the effect that science is either true or false, art is either shallow or deep. Second best came from some Supreme Court Justice, Jackson, I think, to the effect that one man's right to swing his fists stops where another man's nose begins. ~ Kurt Vonnegut

Yeah, you like that? You like it when Big Papa gives you his hot and juicy wiener?" I pant, my hips hammering against her. Her fists yank my hair, pulling my head away from her neck so hard that I see stars. "Ow! What the fuck?" I complain as she gives me a dirty look. "You cannot say shit like that when we're fucking. You Just can't," she warns me, letting out a low groan when I shift my hips and grind my pubic bone against her clit.
"What's wrong with a little dirty talk? I thought you'd like it." "I like dirty talk. I LOVE dirty talk. What you're doing is not dirty talk. It's 'weird as fuck' talk. Repeat after me: I love fucking you, your pussy is so tight," Ava demands. (Well, damn, that was hot. I kind of wish I had a vagina right now). ~ Tara Sivec

I clenched my teeth and fists to stop them biting and scratching these clever men who want no care for the helpless sick small, who use religions and politics to stay comfortably superior to all that pain: who make religions and politics, excuses to spread misery with fire and sword and how could I stop all this? I did not know what to do. ~ Alasdair Gray

Charles had climbed on a bench and was calling out that he had something to say, creating a racket that quickly got the attention of the room. Everyone looked immensely surprised, including Tessa and Will. Sona frowned, clearly thinking Charles was very rude. She didn't know the half of it, Cordelia thought darkly.
"Let me be the first to raise a glass to the happy couple!" said Charles, doing just that. "To James Herondale and Cordelia Carstairs. I wish to add personally that James, my brother's parabatai, has always been like a younger brother to me."
"A younger brother he accused of vandalizing greenhouses across our fair nation," muttered Will.
"As for Cordelia Carstairs - how to describe her?" Charles went on.
"Especially when one has not bothered to get to know her at all," murmured James.
"She is both beautiful and fair," said Charles, leaving Cordelia to wonder what the difference was, "as well as being brave. I am sure she will make James as happy as my lovely Grace makes me." He smiled at Grace, who stood quietly near him, her face a mask. "That's right. I am formally announcing my intention to wed Grace Blackthorn. You will all be invited, of course."
Cordelia glanced over at Alastair; he was expressionless, but his hands, jammed into his pockets, were fists. James had narrowed his eyes.
Charles went on merrily. "And lastly, my thanks go out to the folk of the Enclave, who supported my actions as acting Consul through our recent t ~ Cassandra Clare

« He squeezed his hands into fists. I picked up a grapefruit-sized rock and handed it to him. It went flying. Home run, Beast Lord style. ~ Ilona Andrews

Outside the night worked its way towards dawn and inside Tina talked. When she got to the part about seeing Lockie in the uniform's house she watched Doug's face. She didn't spare him anything because Lockie hadn't been spared. She talked about the rope and the cold and the way Lockie froze when the man touched him.
Doug's skin became the colour of chalk and his fists clenched.She wanted to spare him the details but he needed to know. When she told him about letting Lockie hit the uniform with the poker a grim smile crossed his face. Tina understood the smile. People never really got beyond the concept of an eye for an eye. Especially when someone took your child. ~ Nicole Trope

When you go to the other place, part of you doesn't come back.'
What other place, honey?' He placed his watch on the bedstand.
And the part of you that does?' She bit her lip and looked like she was about to punch herself in the face with both fists. 'Shouldn't. ~ Dennis Lehane

It is a key keeper's right to bestow a copy of his key on anyone he wishes. But this practice―a phenomenal rite―is hardly ever performed. To receive a copy of the key means to have its imprint seared into your hand. Holding that branded replica over the front lock miraculously parts the gates to Dreamland. It works just as effectively as inserting the genuine key. Staggering to think about, isn't it? You might consider clenching your fists when you dream. ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

We will extend our arms to you[world] if you unclench your fists. ~ Barack Obama

I always thought I'd live in Paris, Rome, Madrid - at least for a while. It strikes me now that I didn't dream of Zanzibar or Papeete or Tashkent: even my fantasy was cautious, a good girl's fantasy, a blanched almond of a fantasy. Today, even that is enough to clench my fists and curl my toes. In ~ Claire Messud

Agnes shut her eyes, clenched her fists, opened her mouth and screamed.

It started low. Plaster dust drifted down from the ceiling. The prisms on the chandelier chimed gently as they shook.
It rose, passing quickly through the mysterious pitch at fourteen cycles per second where the human spirit begins to feel distinctly uncomfortable about the universe and the place in it of the bowels. Small items around the Opera House vibrated off shelves and smashed on the floor.

The note climbed, rang like a bell, climbed again. In the Pit, all the violin strings snapped, one by one.
As the tone rose, the crystal prisms shook in the chandelier. In the bar, champagne corks fired a salvo. Ice jingled and shattered in its bucket. A line of wine-glasses joined in the chorus, blurred around the rims, and then exploded like hazardous thistledown with attitude.

There were harmonics and echoes that caused strange effects. In the dressing-rooms the No. 3 greasepaint melted. Mirrors cracked, filling the ballet school with a million fractured images.
Dust rose, insects fell. In the stones of the Opera House tiny particles of quartz danced briefly...

Then there was silence, broken by the occasional thud and tinkle.
Nanny grinned.
'Ah,' she said, 'now the opera's over. ~ Terry Pratchett

she uncurls danny's small fists and clasps his hand to hers and notices the way even in his sleep his fingers seem to know their way around hers; their hands together form their own organ, or an x, like on a map that insists you are here. ~ Emily Franklin

What have you done?' he said, his voice hollow and strained. He stepped back and put his fists to his temples. 'What have you done!'
With an effort, Eragon said, 'Made you understand. ~ Christopher Paolini

I poisoned my skin," Genya said harshly, "my lips. So that every time he touched me-" She shuddered slightly and glanced at David. "Every time he kissed me, he took sickness into his body." She clenched her fists. "He brought this on himself."
"But the poison would have affected you too," Nikolai said.
"I had to purge it from my skin, then heal the burns the lye would leave. Every single time." Her fists clenched. "It was well worth it."
Nikolai rubbed a hand over his mouth. "Did he force you?"
Genya nodded once. A muscle in Nikolai's jaw ticked. ~ Leigh Bardugo

The afflicted are almost upon them. The air is a din of hypersonic bursts, snarls and empty shell casings. But still I hear him. As his people start to fall. As his pistol clicks empty. As he rises with only his knuckles left between him and the sheer brutality of mathematics. As the music swells above the carnage, still I hear him breathe the words. "Tell them I was thinking of them. At the end." They pile onto him. All snarls and teeth and fists. But as he falls, I am holding his hand. Easing him into his long good night. "I will tell them, David." The last words he will ever hear. 'I promise. ~ Amie Kaufman

Hating, hating, hating, that's all I ever hear. People are never just people. No, everybody's a faggot or a dyke or a nigger or a dirty Jew or a goddamn liberal or something." She clenched her fists and pressed them to her temples. "Oh, Jesus, I'm so sick of it. And now you're willing to forget everything that was good about Lissa and despise her memory just because she had something inside that made her love women instead of men?" Eyes ablaze: "Is that the kind of person you are? ~ Iolanthe Woulff

[Ognev] recalled endless, heated, purely Russian arguments, when the wranglers, spraying spittle and banging their fists on the table, fail to understand yet interrupt one another, themselves not even noticing it, contradict themselves with every phrase, change the subject, then, having argued for two or three hours, begin to laugh. ~ Anton Chekhov

Heat flushed Chauncey's neck; it took all his energy to curl his hands into two weak fists. He laughed at himself, but there was no humor. He had no idea how, but the boy was inflicting the nausea and weakness inside him. It would not lift until he took the oath. He would say what he had to, but he swore in his heart he would destroy the boy for this humiliation. ~ Becca Fitzpatrick

Being an activist is about getting things done. It's not about standing around shaking your fist in anger. ~ Christine Quinn

But nobody writes fairy tales
about the ugly and poems
are not there for the broken
and I will never find myself
in the words of a hymn
nor will any whispered prayer
ever say my name
(which name, which me
am I looking for?)
because I am shouting
at a cross splintered into pieces
by my angry fists, and crying
at the stained glass falling
like killing rain around me. ~ Miriam Joy

What do you want me to call them? Shits and Giggles? Fists and Kneecap? Nah, I don't like that one. Hammer and Nails? Dude, these kids are hard-core gangster. They need kick-A names, not that blah, blah sh-crap you gave them. - William ~ Gena Showalter

She found half of a sea biscuit and offered it to Sus. The young girl held it between two fingers and licked a corner. "It tastes like dirt." "And how would you know?" Felissa said, putting her fists on her hips. "You eat dirt often, do you? Snacking on mud pies when our backs are turned?" "It tastes how dirt smells," Sus said. ~ Shannon Hale

Her little fists pummeled at him, and he accepted the abuse. Until he realized she'd made an improper fist and was actually hurting herself. He wound an arm around her waist, spun her and slammed her into the hard line of his body to still her.
"Let me go!"
"In a minute." As she struggled, he pulled her thumb out from beneath her fingers and rearranged her fist. "Hit like this." Done, he released her. ~ Gena Showalter

Why can't you marry him?" he whispered.
She broke her word to herself and looked at him. "Because of you."
Arin's hand flinched against her cheek. His dark head bowed, became lost in its own shadow. Then he slipped from his seat and knelt before hers. His hands fell to the fists on her lap and gently opened them. He held them as if cupping water. He took a breath to speak.
She would have stopped him. She would have wished herself deaf, blind, made of unfeeling smoke. She would have stopped his words out of terror, longing. The way terror and longing had become indistinguishable.
Yet his hands held hers, and she could do nothing.
He said, "I want the same thing you want."
Kestrel pulled back. It wasn't possible his words could mean what they seemed.
"It hasn't been easy for me to want it." Arin lifted his face so that she could see his expression. A rich emotion played across his features, offered itself, and asked to be called by its name.
Hope. ~ Marie Rutkoski

The fatuous idea that a person can be holy by himself denies God the pleasure of saving sinners. God must therefore first take the sledge-hammer of the Law in His fists and smash the beast of self-righteousness and its brood of self-confidence, self wisdom, and self-help. When the conscience has been thoroughly frightened by the Law it welcomes the Gospel of grace with its message of a Savior Who came-not to break the bruised reed nor to quench the smoking flax-but to preach glad tidings to the poor, to heal the broken-hearted, and to grant forgiveness of sins to all the captives. ~ Martin Luther

He shook his head. "Not a bit of it. When I arrived, I was small and dark and ugly. The perfect quarry for every bully. And then, one day, I grew tired of it. I had discovered that sarcasm and wit could be far more effective than fists. The duller-brained the boy, the more others laughed at my bons mots. And so I became a nasty bit of goods in my own way, fighting with words where I could not fight with fists. ~ Ashley Gardner

I came into this world the way every person on the planet does - with clenched fists. ~ Ann Voskamp

Dan bit back a growl. No smooth-talking, barely-shaving stripling was going to charm her away. She needed a mature man, one with the skills and experience to protect her, provide for her. Hands balled into fists, Dan inhaled through his nose in an effort to stem the rising tide of jealousy that nearly had him shouting at her again. Maybe he shouldn't be in such a hurry to send her back to Richland. Where younger men named Clarence waited in the wings. ~ Karen Witemeyer

There were orchids for sale, for one and two and three and five hundred dollars, a madhouse of orchids in every color, in every shape, with wide leaves and skinny leaves and no leaves at all, with fat jutting lips and lips cupped like thimbles, and with blackish-red hoods and freckles, with ruffles, with pleats, with corkscrew curls, big as fists, small as fingernails, smelling of honey, grass, citrus, cinnamon, or of nothing, not a smell at all but just the heavy warm quality that air has after it has been sitting in a flower. ~ Susan Orlean

respond, but his figure seemed rigid. Mark could tell his hands were clenched into fists. "Toad? We need you to sit down. And then tell us everything that's happened since we left the village." The guy didn't move. "Come on," Mark pushed. ~ James Dashner

It's okay to hurt. It's okay to cry. It's okay to ask questions (even of God.) It's okay to yell and scream and feel and even cuss if you need to. It's okay to be right where you're at, without trying to frantically search for the purpose that will come from your pain or the message that will come from your mess. I'm finding that some pain doesn't serve a purpose. Sometimes pain is just pain…and we can let it be just that. We can feel it without trying to heal it. We can bring our fists down hard on all the feel-good, sing-song, empty platitudes and send the pieces scattering right along with the shattered pieces of our hearts. WE CAN. ~ Mandy Hale

Jesper and Kaz swung around, crashed into the mechanism of the clock, righted themselves. It wasn't a fight, it was a brawl - graceless, a tangle of elbows and fists.
"Ghezen and his works, someone stop them!" Wylan said desperately.
"Jesper hasn't shot him," Nina said.
"Kaz isn't using his cane," said Inej.
"You think they can't kill each other with their bare hands?"
They were both bleeding - Jesper from a cut on his lip and Kaz from somewhere near his brow. Jesper's shirt was halfway over his head and Kaz's sleeve was tearing at the seam. ~ Leigh Bardugo

We're keeping the pregnancy quiet for now, Lou," Knox told him. "We need you to do the same."
Lou lifted his hand, as if to pledge an oath. "You can be sure that I will do nothing to threaten the upcoming birth of our little Luc - "
"We are not calling the baby Lucifer," growled Harper, fists clenched.
Lou leaned toward Knox and said quietly, "Notice the mood swing? The stats don't lie."
Harper let out a long breath. "Why are you even here?"
Lou lifted a brow. "Expecting someone else?"
"Preferably someone who doesn't come uninvited, rifle through our kitchen, and help themselves to stuff. It's like having a stray dog turn up all the time."
Lou sniffed at her. "That's unfair. I don't shit on your floor. ~ Suzanne Wright

When anger heats up it folds into fists. ~ Matshona Dhliwayo

We got off at the next exit, quietly, and, switching drivers, we walked in front of the car. We met and I held him, my hands balled into tight fists around his shoulders, and he wrapped his short arms around me and squeezed tight, so that I felt the heaves of his chest as we realized over and over again that we were still alive. I realized it in waves and we held on to each other crying and I thought, 'God we must look so lame,' but it doesn't matter when you have just now realized, all the time later, that you are still alive. ~ John Green

Words have greater strength than fists. ~ Matshona Dhliwayo

I squeezed my hands into fists, and I hoped as hard as I knew how ~ Neil Gaiman

To do for yourself the best that you have it in you to do - to grit your teeth and clench your fists in order to survive the world at its harshest and worst - is, by that very act, to be unable to let something be done for you and in you that is more wonderful still. The trouble with steeling yourself against the harshness of reality is that the same steel that secures your life against being destroyed secures your life also against being opened up and transformed ~ Frederick Buechner

The DFA and organizations like it have pushed and squeezed and elbowed out all the feeling in the world. They have clamped their fists around a geyser to keep it from exploding.
But the pressure eventually builds, and the explosion will always come. ~ Lauren Oliver

Do not admire the warriors; do not admire the fighters; condemn the fist! Get rid of this low culture of wildness! Admire the nonviolent; applaud the peaceful; despise the brute force! ~ Mehmet Murat Ildan

The most dangerous action a woman can take when faced with a criminal is to resist with her fists: That tends to annoy violent criminals, and the woman will very likely be seriously injured. But a woman who takes the advice of Handgun Control Inc. and passively submits is 2.5 times more likely to be injured than a woman who resists with a gun. So if you don't want to lie back and enjoy it, get a gun. Otherwise you may never become a mom. ~ Ann Coulter

Why do I keep doing this? Making her out to be more than what she was, grander, omniscient even, lovely and unreal. She could be such a bitch. She could sense what you hated about yourself, and is you pissed her off she'd throw it back in your face, she'd make sure you knew she thought it, too. Sometimes I feel like she is my invention. Like the more I say, the further from the truth of her I get. I'm trying to hold palmfuls of sand, but I squeeze harder, tighten my fists, and the quicker it all escapes. ~ Julie Buntin

Children use the fist until they are of age to use the brain. ~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning

There is a time for reciting poems and a time for fists. ~ Roberto Bolano

Bella. "Nathan Malone is dead." He caught her shoulders, shook her.
"No!" she screamed back. And she couldn't hit him. She wanted to, and she couldn't.
"look at me," he yelled. "Look at me, Bella. What happened killed the man you loved. All that is left is this. The man you see now.The name name I carry now. Anything else is no possible."
"No!" She pulled away from him, stumbled to her feet, and shook with the rage pounding through her. "The name may be dead, but you are not dead. "You weren't just a SEAL," she cried. "You weren't just a friend, or a son, or a grandson, or a brother. You weren't just a warrior." She clenched her fists, pressed to her stomach as the agony swell up through every cell of her body. "You are my husband. My lover.
It doesn't matter if your name is Nathan, Noah, or hey fucking you, you are my my lover. My soul. My heart. ~ Lora Leigh

Listen to me. Love is a Yeti. It is bigger than you and frightening and terrible. It makes loud and vicious noises. It is hungry all the time. It has horns and teeth and the force of its fists is more than anyone can bear. It speeds up time and slows it down. And it has its own aims and missions that those who are lucky enough to see it cannot begin to guess. You might see a Yeti once in your life or never. You might live in a village of them. But in the end, not matter how fast you think you can go, the Yeti is always faster than you, and you can only choose how you say hello to it, and whether you shake its hand. ~ Catherynne M Valente

6One hand full of rest is better than two fists full of labor and striving after wind. ~ Anonymous

Like is an emotion. Emotions" - he raised a hand, made a fist, clenched it tightly - "are like holding water. You open your hand, there's nothing there. Better to be a weapon than a woman. ~ Karen Marie Moning

He seems untouchable. Maybe his fists are as brutal as his beauty. Just looking at him feels like I'm inhaling a lungful of fire. Because ~ Pam Godwin

Think of yourselves as a hand. Each of you is a finger, and without the others you're useless. Alone, a finger can't grasp, or control, or form a fist. You are nothing on your own, and everything together. ~ Karen Traviss

You are beyond frustrating," she grumbled. "Why can't you do what I ask you to do without issuing a million questions first?"
"I could say the same of you."
"I don't
Argh." She raised a fist at him. "So maybe I do ask a lot of questions. So what. Anyone in my position would do the same. Besides, I'm a girl and that's my job. You're a boy. You're supposed to pound your chest with your fists and grunt, then do everything in your power to please me."
"Hardly. The man you just described is more likely to knock you over the head with a club and drag you away by the hair."
-Annabelle and Zacharel ~ Gena Showalter

I took the steps down Angel's Flight to Hill Street: a hundred and forty steps, with tight fists, frightened of no man, but scared of the Third Street Tunnel, scared to walk through it – claustrophobia. Scared of high places too, and of blood, and of earthquakes; otherwise, quite fearless, excepting death, except the fear I'll scream in a crowd, except the fear of appendicitis, except the fear of heart trouble, even that, sitting in his room holding the clock and pressing his jugular vein, counting out his heartbeats, listening to the weird purr and whirr of his stomach. Otherwise, quite fearless. ~ John Fante

The next election will be a flyweight versus a heavyweight. However much the right hon. Gentleman (David Cameron) may dance around the ring beforehand, at some point, he will come within the reach of a big clunking fist. ~ Gordon Brown

Weird. I rang it three times." – Nekoda
"There might be something with out condo." 'Other than the fact that it lived under a perpetual dismal cloud and was infested with roaches the size of his fist. It was probably over a hellmouth, too, that didn't allot for any kind of reception other than two cans joined by a length string.' – Nick ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

People with clenched fists can not shake hands. ~ Indira Gandhi

Oh my God, this was an interrogation.
Grady picked up his bottle as he smiled at me. "We just met, but I think we're…going to be pretty good friends."
"Good friends?" Brock chuckled, and my hands tightened into fists. "Sounds about right. Anyway," he said in a way that dripped dismissiveness, "I don't want to keep you all from your dinner. Just wanted to stop by and say hi. I'll hit you up later," Brock said to Cam before focusing on me in that intense way of his that made you feel like there was no one else in the entire world but you.
He tapped the tip of my nose.
I blinked.
Brock grinned. "I'll see you again soon. ~ J. Lynn

if i add that my uncle took mathematical strides of exactly three feet, and that, while walking, he firmly clenches his fists-the sign of an impetuous temperament-then you will know him well enough not to wish to spend too much time in his company ~ William Butcher

Because I'm good at it," he said, sounding agitated now. "I am bloody great at it. And I was never good at anything. Because it's the one place where I know that my success is mine, and my failure, too. In the ring, I might be facing an Irish dock laborer or an English tanner or an American freedman. When the bell rings, none of it matters worth a damn. It's only me. My strength, my heart, my wits, my fists. Nothing I was given, nothing I took. I fight because it tells me who I am. ~ Tessa Dare

You ball up your fist each time you hear about an unfound injustice in the world. That makes me your brother. ~ Darnell Lamont Walker

I've come off horses and fought in medieval battles using axes, hammers and swords as well as fists. Getting your teeth knocked out is an occupational hazard. ~ James Cosmo

Only Hungry Joe had something better to do each time he finished his missions. He had screaming nightmares and won fist fights with Huple's cat. ~ Joseph Heller

I'm walking off the dance floor when I see him. Peter, in a suit, standing to the side, beside the dogwood tree. He looks so handsome I can hardly stand it. I cross the backyard, and he watches me the whole time. My heart is pounding so hard. Is he here for me? Or did he just come because he promised my dad?
When I'm standing in front of him, I say, "You came."
Peter looks away. "Of course I came."
Softly I say, "I wish I could take back the things I said the other night. I don't even remember all of them."
Looking down, he says, "But you meant them, right? So it's a good thing you said them then, because somebody had to and you were right."
"Which part?" I whisper.
"About UNC. About me not transferring there." He lifts his head, his eyes wounded. "But you should have told me my mom talked to you."
I take a shaky breath. "You should have told me you were thinking about transferring! You should've told me how you were feeling, period. You shut down after graduation; you wouldn't let me in. You kept saying everything was going to be fine."
"Because I was fucking scared, okay!" he bursts out. He looks around to see if anyone heard, but the music is loud, and everyone is dancing; no one is looking at us, and it's like we are alone here in this backyard.
"What were you so scared about?" I whisper.
His hands tighten into fists at his sides. When he finally speaks, his voice comes out raw, like he hasn't used it in a while. "I was sc ~ Jenny Han

Let your actions always speak for you, but be forever on guard against the terrible traps of false pride and conceit that can halt your progress. The next time you are tempted to boast, just place your fist in a full pail of water, and when you remove it, the hole remaining will give you a correct measure of your importance. ~ Og Mandino

I have defeated this earthworm with my words. Imagine what I would have done with my fire breathing fists. ~ Charlie Sheen

So, are you going to tell me what I did to piss you off that year? Because I'm coming up totally blank."
I turn on him. "Seriously? You're coming up blank?"
"Why don't you help me out here?"
I just stare at him uncomprehendingly.
"C'mon, Jemma," he taunts. "Use your words."
I rise, my hands curled into fists by my sides. "Oh, I'll use my words all right, douchebucket. Remember the eighth-grade dance? Is that ringing any bells for you?"
He scratches his head, looking thoughtful for a moment. And then…"You mean the graduation dance? If I remember correctly, you didn't even show up."
"Is that what you think? That I didn't show up?" I almost want to laugh at the absurdity of it--Ryder trying to act like the injured party, as if I'd stood him up.
"You got a better explanation?" he asks.
"I shouldn't have to explain it to you. Jerk," I add under my breath. And then, "I'm going for a walk."
He rises, towering over me now. "So you're just going to storm off? Really, Jem?"
"Yes," I say, nodding furiously. "That's exactly what I'm going to do. How clever of you to figure it out."
I can feel Ryder's eyes boring a hole in my back as I flounce down the stairs and hurry down the drive with as much dignity as I can muster. ~ Kristi Cook

Not being the sort to throw a book, she pounded her fist on her cushion. ~ Ellen Kushner

My hands folded into fists. "As king, that is my order."
"Forgive me, but the king's order is the most reckless thing he's ever said, which we both know is quite an accomplishment. If you want to stop me from dragging you back to Drylliad, then you'll have to kill me here."
"I can't do that," I said. "Who'll make sure Tobias gets back safely? He can hardly cross a road without endangering himself."
"I can too," Tobias said. ~ Jennifer A. Nielsen

I've learned that in order to achieve what I wanted, it made more sense to negotiate than to defend the autonomy of my work by pounding my fist on the table. ~ Thom Mayne

Look, Ella..." He stared down at his hands, opening and closing his fists. I waited.
I think we might have a little bit of a misunderstanding here...
You're a nice girl and all,but...
I really like you,but I don't really like you...
The unmistakable notes of "Don't Stop Believin'," electronic version, suddenly filled my room, followed by the audible and visual treat of my phone vibrating its way across my desk toward Alex's hip. I flung myself on it. In a clear-headed moment, I would have just turned it off. As it was, I did manage a "Sorry!" to Alex before flipping it open/
"Are you dead?" Frankie demanded from the other end.
"No." I edged away from Alex, who was very politely pretending to be interested in the biscotti.
"Are you even sick?"
"No," I admitted.
"Of course not. Okay, I'm coming over."
"No!" I cringed as Alex jumped a little. I took a breath. "God, no. Don't. It's wedding central here. Sienna will have you trying up birdseed in little purple pouches."
There was a long pause. "You okay, Marino?"
"Yeah," I managed.
"Truth time.Where were you today?"
Could I do it? Could I actually use the word cramps with Alex Bainbridge standing three feet away? I could only imagine how the actual truth would sound. Here, in bed, hiding because I thought I'd made the queen of all fools out of myself e-mailing Alex Bainbridge over the break, and I can't even tell you about it because I promised...But it's okay- ~ Melissa Jensen

He lives in a room above a courtyard behind a tavern and he comes down at night like some fairybook beast to fight with the sailors. He is not big but he has big wrists, big hands. His shoulders are set close. The child's face is curiously untouched behind the scars, the eyes oddly innocent. They fight with fists, with feet, with bottles or knives. All races, all breeds. Men whose speech sounds like the grunting of apes. Men from lands so far and queer that standing over them where they lie bleeding in the mud he feels mankind itself vindicated. ~ Cormac McCarthy

The only source of peace is FROM WITHIN. When one is confronted with the lie about justice, it seems to stimulate a sense of great frustration. Frustration is just being disappointed because something didn't fulfill the image you laid on them in your head. And so people shake their fists, and they say, 'we shall overcome,' and 'let there be justice and equality!,' and 'it's all THEIR fault OUT THERE and if THEY will only change then everything will be cool!' It's never gonna work that way, that view will only compound the sense of frustration! Because anything, man, which gets people outside of themselves for identity is just reinforcing the whole cycle. (Gridley) ~ Lewis Yablonsky

It should make you shake and sweat,
nightmare you, strand you in the desert
of irrevocable desolation, the consequences
seared into the vein, no matter what adrenaline
feeds the muscle its courage, no matter
what god shines down on you, no matter
what crackling pain and anger
you carry in your fists, my friend,
it should break your heart to kill. ~ Brian Turner

I was so attracted to him I could have peed myself right there on the spot, but I hadn't done anything like that in a while. I was older now, and harnessed my feelings in moments like these by opening and closing my fists very rapidly. ~ The Harvard Lampoon

Worries flow from her lips like the random words that flow from her fingertips. I reach out and try to catch them, clenching them in my fists, wanting nothing more than to catch them all. ~ Colleen Hoover

I felt the crumpled paper that had taken the place of my lungs expand as if released from a fist. ~ Aimee Bender

I can see inside planes!' he yells. 'Come and look!'
It's difficult climbing in a mini dress ... I haul myself up even though my arms ache. I want to see inside planes too. I want to watch the wind and catch birds in my fist. ~ Jenny Downham

I don't think that there's that much difference between a photograph of a fist up someone's ass and a photograph of carnations in a bowl. ~ Robert Mapplethorpe

Some men, certainly, have used the beauty myth abusively against women, the way some men use their fists; but there is a strong consciousness among both sexes that the real agents enforcing the myth today are not men as individual lovers or husbands, but institutions, that depend on male dominance. ~ Naomi Wolf

Shura, I'm yours. You may not like it today, you may not want it tonight, you may wish for it all to be different now, but it remains, and I remain, as always, only yours. Nothing can change that. Not your wrath, your fists, your body or your death. ~ Paullina Simons

I like autumn. The drama of it; the golden lion roaring through the back door of the year, shaking its mane of leaves. A dangerous time; of violent rages and deceptive calm, of fireworks in the pockets and conkers in the fist. ~ Joanne Harris

She wanted to yell at him, to beat his chest with her fists and accuse him of being addled and stubborn and blind. ~ Melanie Dickerson

Andy gasped and jumped up, pumping his fists and yelling, "Yahoo!" Alden and the King stared at the spectacle and started laughing. ~ L.R.W. Lee

The chimpanzees taught me a lot about nonverbal communication. The big difference between them and us is that they don't have spoken language. Everything else is almost the same: Kissing, embracing, swaggering, shaking the fist. ~ Jane Goodall

And where's my ring?

She laughs, drops her fists in her lap. 'Your Ring? Where's my ring? And why aren't you down on one knee?'

Because I'm driving and because you're the one who asked me. Everybody knows the asker supplies the jewelry.

'Everybody knows? You made that up- how would everybody know? The guy always buys the ring.'

Moneys tight. How about Junior Mints and a Coke instead?

'Deal,' she says. ~ Jessica Martinez

If you cooperate, I promise not to hit you-much. If you don't cooperate ... Well, I'll use my fists instead of an open hand got it? ~ Amanda Bonilla

Do I want to keep him? Ah, can you ever keep anything? Don't we all have To open our fists eventually, to stretch tired fingers, to allow our palms a taste of new things...? ~ Lime Craven

But if you must be clever, then be clever. Be brave. Sleep with fists closed and shoot straight. ~ Catherynne M Valente

We are born into this world with clenched fists, we leave it with fingers apart- preaching the lesson that you take nothing with you. ~ Ethel Percy Andrus

These women accept their beatings with a simplicity worthy of all praise, and far from considering themselves insulted, admire the strength and energy of the man who can administer such eloquent rebukes. In Russia, not only may a man beat his wife, but it is laid down in the catechism and taught all boys at the time of confirmation as necessary at least once a week, whether she has done anything or not, for the sake of her general health and happiness."

I thought I observed a tendency in the Man of Wrath rather to gloat over these castigations.

"Pray, my dear man," I said, pointing with my whip, "look at that baby moon so innocently peeping at us over the edge of the mist just behind that silver birch; and don't talk so much about women and things you don't understand. What is the use of your bothering about fists and whips and muscles and all the dreadful things invented for the confusion of obstreperous wives? You know you are a civilised husband, and a civilised husband is a creature who has ceased to be a man.

"And a civilised wife?" he asked, bringing his horse close up beside me and putting his arm round my waist, "has she ceased to be a woman?"

"I should think so indeed,--she is a goddess, and can never be worshipped and adored enough. ~ Elizabeth Von Arnim

If your temper is aroused and you tell 'em a thing or two, you will have a fine time unloading your feelings. But what about the other fellow? Will he share your pleasure? Will your belligerent tones, your hostile attitude, make it easy for him to agree with you? "If you come at me with your fists doubled," said Wood row Wilson, "I think I can promise you that mine will double as fast as yours; but if you come to me and say, 'Let us sit down and take counsel together, and, if we differ from one another, understand why it is that we differ from one another, just what the points at issue are,' we will presently find that we are not so far apart after all, that the points on which we differ are few and the points on which we agree are many, and that if we only have the patience and the candor and the desire to get together, we will get together. ~ Dale Carnegie

After a while Mary said, "Zsadist?"

"Yeah?"

"What are those markings?"

His frowned and flicked his eyes over to her, thinking, as if she didn't know? But then . . . well, she had been a human. Maybe she didn't. "They're slave bands. I was . . . a slave."

"Did it hurt when they were put on you?"

"Yes."

"Did the same person who cut your face give them to you?"

"No, my owner's hellren did that. My owner . . . she put the bands on me. He was the one who cut my face."

"How long were you a slave?"

"A hundred years."

"How did you get free?"

"Phury. Phury got me out. That's how he lost his leg."

"Were you hurt while you were a slave?"

Z swallowed hard. "Yes."

"Do you still think about it?"

"Yes." He looked down at his hands, which suddenly were in pain for some reason. Oh, right. He'd made two
fists and was squeezing them so tightly his fingers were about to snap off at the knuckles.

"Does slavery still happen?"

"No. Wrath outlawed it. As a mating gift to me and Bella."

"What kind of slave were you?"

Zsadist shut his eyes. Ah, yes, the question he didn't want to answer. For a while it was all he could do to force himself to stay in the chair. But then, in a falsely level voice, he said,
"I was a blood slave. I was used by a female for blood."

The quiet after ~ J.R. Ward

If we refuse to forgive, we have stepped into dangerous waters. First, refusing to forgive is to put ourselves in the place of God, as though vengeance were our prerogative, not his. Second, unforgiveness says God's wrath is insufficient. For the unbeliever, we are saying that an eternity in hell is not enough; they need our slap in the face or cold shoulder to "even the scales" of justice. For the believer, we are saying that Christ's humiliation and death are not enough. In other words, we shake our fists at God and say, "Your standards may have been satisfied, but my standard is higher!" Finally, refusing to forgive is the highest form of arrogance. Here we stand forgiven. And as we bask in the forgiveness of a perfectly holy and righteous God, we turn to our brother and say, "My sins are forgivable, but yours are not." In other words, we act as though the sins of others are too significant to forgive while simultaneously believing that ours are not significant enough to matter. ~ Voddie T. Baucham Jr.

Behind Communism, Fascism, behind all occupations and invasions lurks a more basic, pervasive evil, and that the image of that evil was a parade of people marching by with raised fists and shouting syllables in unison. p. 100 ~ Milan Kundera

Those who never rebelled against God or at some point in their lives shaken their fists in the face of heaven, have never encountered God at all. ~ Catherine Marshall

Strength does not always mean fists, my heart. Sometimes it means waking up to endure another day. ~ Ruby Dixon