Get A Grip On Life Quotes

Someone shakes my shoulder. I jerk awake, my eyes wide and searching, and I see Tobias kneeling over me. He wears a Dauntless traitor jacket, and one side of his head is coated with blood. The blood streams from a wound on his ear--the top of his hear is gone. I wince.
"What happened?" I say.
"Get up. We have to run."
"It's too soon. It hasn't been two weeks."
"I don't have time to explain. Come on."
"Oh God. Tobias."
I sit up and wrap my arms around him, pressing my face into his neck. His arms tighten around me and squeeze. Warmth courses through me, and comfort. If he is here, that means I'm safe. My tears make his skin slippery.
He stands and pulls me to my feet, which makes my wounded shoulder throb.
"Reinforcements will be here soon. Come on."
I let him lead me out of the room. We make it down the first hallway without difficulty, but in the second hallway, we encounter two Dauntless guards, one a young man and one a middle-aged woman. Tobias fires twice in a matter of seconds, both hits, one in the head and one in the chest. The woman, who was hit in the chest, slumps against the wall but doesn't die.
We keep moving. One hallway, then another, all of them look the same. Tobias's grip on my hand never falters. I know that if he can throw a knife so that it hits just the tip of my ear, he can fire accurately at the Dauntless soldiers who ambush us. We step over fallen bodies--the people Tobias killed in the way in, probab ~ Veronica Roth

I paint and sculpt to get a grip on reality ... to protect myself. ~ Alberto Giacometti

If it makes you feel any better, he's been all sad doll lately too."
"What are you talking about, Chels?"
Chelsea stopped walking and stared at Violet.
"Jay. I'm talking about Jay, Vi. I thought you might want to know that you're not the only one who's hurting. He's been moping around school, making it hard to even look at him. He's messed up ... bad." Just like the other night in Violet's bedroom, something close to ... sympathy crossed Chelsea's face.
Violet wasn't sure how to respond.
Fortunately sympathetic Chelsea didn't stick around for long. She seemed to get a grip on herself, and like a switch had been flipped, the awkward moment was over and her friend was back, Chelsea-style: "I swear, every time I see him, I'm halfway afraid he's gonna start crying like a girl or ask to borrow a tampon or something. Seriously, Violet, it's disgusting. Really. Only you can make it stop. Please make it stop. ~ Kimberly Derting

If he doesn't come out soon and tell us what's going on, I am going in there."
A rush of relief flooded Harper at the sound of Drea in the hallway.
"As much as you think she loves you, shortcake, she loves him a bit more. Give them a minute."
Trent laughed. Harper opened her eyes and looked at him. "My money is on Drea," she whispered.
"Can you get your stupid frigging arms off me?"
Drea and Cujo burst through the door. Cujo's arms were wrapped tightly around Drea's middle, and the angle she was bending his fingers back to release his grip had to hurt.
"I tried to stop her but it's like getting a feral cat into a shoe box." Cujo let out a grunt and let Drea go. Harper looked from Cujo to Drea, desperate to bury the laugh she could feel brewing. ~ Scarlett Cole

Oh Blimey O'Reilly's pantyhose...what is the point of Shakespeare? I know he is a genius and so on, but he does rave on.
What light doth through yonder window break?
It's the bloody moon, for God's sake, Will, get a grip!! ~ Louise Rennison

I lick my fingers because I don't like when my hands get slick. Licking my fingers helps me keep a good grip on the ball. ~ Steve Nash

You can't learn something about all women. Sometimes I feel that the older I get, the less of a grip I've got on it. ~ Jamie Hince

Some international relations scholars would posit that interest in zombies is an indirect attempt to get a cognitive grip on what U.S. Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld famously referred to as the "unknown knowns" in international security. Perhaps, however, there also exists a genuine but publicly unacknowledged fear of the dead rising from the grave and feasting upon the entrails of the living. ~ Daniel Drezner

Hardly anyone ever leaves. This is because Des Moines is the most powerful hypnotic known to man. Outside town there is a big sign that says, WELCOME TO DES MOINES. THIS IS WHAT DEATH IS LIKE. There isn't really. I just made that up. But the place does get a grip on you. ~ Bill Bryson

I like normal stuff people fear - like spiders and heights. I'm frightened by the unknown, by things that are hard to figure out and get a grip on. ~ Haley Joel Osment

Reach down inside yourself, Peabody, and get a grip on reality, however slippery. ~ J.D. Robb

Death is both a certainty and an unknown, Chuck says. It's hard to get a grip on it. ~ Abigail Thomas

Steele yanked on the pistol, but the front sight got snagged on the Frenchman's belt. Jean-Luc's right arm hit him in the
wrist, a painful bone-on-bone collision that wrenched the Five-seven out of his grip. Steele could make out Burrows's bodyguard
posted up ahead, faithfully guarding his boss's booth.


Jean-Luc shouted a warning while trying to dodge the server who seemed to appear out of nowhere. The bodyguard turned to his
left, reached into his jacket, and squared up to the threat. Steele's instincts told him that he was too far behind the eight-ball
to get the MP9 into action fast, so he improvised.


He launched a kick at Jean-Luc's ankle that would have made an NFL punter proud. His leg muscles pistoned his foot toward
its target like a hot rod on a quarter-mile track. The impact snapped the fleeing Frenchman's puny ankle, causing him to tumble
into the server.


Now. ~ Sean Parnell

Shuffling over, my heart races as I take hold of the white painted steel. I'm not exactly fond of heights. I clutch the gutter tightly but my hands sweat so much that I can't get a good grip. I wonder what would happen if I fell? Would I land on my feet? I think that's a great way to break your feet. You are not a cat. You know this, right? ~ Belle Aurora

Come on, Ree, get a grip, I told myself. Something was going on…this was more than simply a reaction to the August humidity. I was having some kind of nervous psycho sweat attack--think Albert Brooks in Broadcast News--and I was being held captive by my perspiration in the upstairs bathroom of Marlboro Man's grandmother's house in the middle of his cousin's wedding reception. I felt the waistband of my skirt stick to my skin. Oh, God…I was in trouble. Desperate, I stripped off my skirt and the stifling control-top panty hose I'd made the mistake of wearing; they peeled off my legs like a soggy banana skin. And there I stood, naked and clammy, my auburn bangs becoming more waterlogged by the minute. So this is it, I thought. This is hell. ~ Ree Drummond

I should have left yesterday before I found out how hot you run. But I didn't. And now I'm fucked." One hand dropped from the wall to grip the side of her hip, squeezing and releasing. "That exquisite body of yours needs a lot of care and attention. I didn't even get a chance to use my tongue on you. I hate not knowing how you taste."

Her head dropped back against the door. When his hand slipped under her dress to run up the outside of her thigh, a moan escaped her lips. Unconsciously, she thrust her breasts upward, in the direction of his mouth.

"Yes, I see them, baby. I'd taste you there, too." Slowly, his hand slid around toward the juncture between her thighs. "You came so quickly for me yesterday, like something out of a fantasy. Were you neglected here?" He ran a knuckle along the seam of her panties. "I know how to make it better. ~ Tessa Bailey

Did you already forget how to promise?" I worm my pinkie around his and squeeze.
He squeezes back and lowers our joined hands to the bed. My heartbeat is strong in my ears. Do I pull away first? Do I wait for him to? What if he doesn't? What if we fall asleep like this?
"I promise I don't write mushy, girly stuff," he says. "I just like to keep track of what's going on, you know? The places I go, the things I find. The people I meet."
I could be imagining it, but the hold on my hand seems to be tighter.
"I know one day I'll want to look back," he continues, "and I don't trust my memory alone to remember everything. What's important to me right now might not be later, but that doesn't mean I want to forget it." He yawns and his eyes get watery, tired.
I fight the temptation to yawn myself. "I think you've just made an excellent case for diaries. Maybe I'll start keeping one."
He yawns again and his grip on my pinkie loosens, but we're still mostly hooked together. "It looked like you already were," he says in a fading whisper. His eyes drift closed.
I stare at his relaxed face, pale in the dim light. Nearly asleep, he looks vulnerable. Like I could tell him anything I wanted and he wouldn't remember it in the morning.
When I first met him, I thought he was attractive but not in an omg-he's-the-most-gorgeous-thing-I've-ever-seen way. But somehow, now that I know him, how his light brown eyes can sear right through me, how the corner of ~ Kristin Rae

Science is an attempt, largely successful, to understand the world, to get a grip on things, to get hold of ourselves, to steer a safe course. Microbiology and meteorology now explain what only a few centuries ago was considered sufficient cause to burn women to death. ~ Carl Sagan

I know I get crazy when it comes to you, but God knows I'm tryin', Pidge. I don't wanna screw this up."
"Then don't."
"This is hard for me, ya know. I feel like any second you're going to figure out what a piece of shit I am and leave me. When you were dancing last night, I saw a dozen different guys watching you. You go to the bar, and I see you thank that guy for your drink. Then that douchebag on the dance floor grabs you."
"You don't see me throwing punches every time a girl talks to you. I can't stay locked up in the apartment all the time. You're going to have to get a handle on your temper."
"I will. I've never wanted a girlfriend before, Pigeon. I'm not used to feeling this way about someone…about anyone. If you'll be patient with me, I swear I'll get it figured out."
"Let's get something straight; you're not a piece of shit, you're amazing. It doesn't matter who buys me drinks, or who asks me to dance, or who flirts with me. I'm going home with you. You've asked me to trust you, and you don't seem to trust me."
He frowned. "That's not true."
"If you think I'm going to leave you for the next guy that comes along, then you don't have much faith in me."
He tightened his grip. "I'm not good enough for you, Pidge. That doesn't mean I don't trust you, I'm just bracing for the inevitable."
"Don't say that. When we're alone, you're perfect. We're perfect. But then you let everyone else ruin it. I don't expect a one-eighty, but you ~ Jamie McGuire

When I make a representation of something, this, too, is an analogy to what exists; I make an effort to get a grip on the thing by depicting it. ~ Gerhard Richter

I have reached far beyond my competence and have probably secured for good a reputation for flamboyant gestures. But the times still crowd me and give me no rest, and I see no way to avoid ambitious synthetic attempts; either we get some kind of grip on the accumulation of thought or we continue to wallow helplessly, to starve amidst plenty. So I gamble with science and write. ~ Ernest Becker

Almost every work of art is an analogy. When I make a representation of something, this too is an analogy to what exists; I make an effort to get a grip on the thing by depicting it. I prefer to steer clear of anything aesthetic, so as not to set obstacles in my own way and not to have the problem of people saying: 'Ah, yes, that's how he sees the world, that's his interpretation.' ~ Gerhard Richter

Finding herself on the way to the village center again, she pulled over, intending to negotiate a three-point turn. The cottage was slightly out of the village, so she needed to get back onto the opposite side of the road and go back up the hill. Glancing over Hannah's instructions again, she swung the car to the right - straight into the path of a motorcyclist.
What happened next seemed to happen in slow motion. The rider tried to stop but couldn't do so in time, although he did manage to avoid hitting her car. As he turned his handlebars hard to the right, his tires lost grip on the wet road and he flew off, sliding some way before coming to a halt.
Layla sat motionless in her car, paralyzed temporarily by the shock. At last she managed to galvanize herself into action and fumbled for the door handle, her shaking hands making it hard to get a grip. When the door finally opened, another dilemma hit. What if she couldn't stand? Her legs felt like jelly, surely they wouldn't support her. Forcing herself upward, she was relieved to discover they held firm. Once she was sure they would continue to do so, she bolted over to where the biker lay, placed one hand on his soaking leather-clad shoulder and said, "Are you okay?"
"No, I'm not bloody okay!" he replied, a pair of bright blue eyes meeting hers as he lifted his visor. "I'm a bit bruised and battered as it goes."
Despite his belligerent words, relief flooded through her: he wasn't dead!
"Oh, I'm so gl ~ Shani Struthers

The temperature in the glade plummeted, and I realized she was right behind me. Her jaws, blackened with tar-hardened ice, ripped into my thigh, and then her silvery whorled horns bucked me into the swamp. I whirled around, scrambling to get a grip on the slippery weeds. Sun Bin roared. My challenge was met. She wanted to destroy the vampyre tombs, but she would make sure I was defeated first.

I braced myself as the Winter Dragon lowered her head and charged. ~ Heather Heffner

Get a grip on yourself. there's only one god here on earth, and that's you. If you don't like the world, make one you like better. ~ Yasmina Khadra

For six days I didn't get up except to make a cup of tea, or fry an egg, or lie in the skinny bath gazing at a cracked ceiling. The days punished me with their slowness, piling up the hours on me, spreading their joylessness about the room.
A doctor would have said I was suffering from depression. Everything I have read since suggests this was the case. But when you are in the grip of something like that it doesn't usefully announce itself. No. what happens is you sit in a dark, dark cave, and you wait. If you are lucky there is a pinprick of light, and if you are especially lucky that pinprick will grow larger and larger, until one day the cave appears to slip behind, and just like that you find yourself in daylight and free. This is how it happened for me. ~ Lloyd Jones

First off, demon, let's get one thing straight. I. Am. Not. Weak. What you saw last night was another fucking subclause of Lucifer's that makes me of the same strength physically and magically as when I died, but only when on the mortal plane in the presence of the souls I damned. Any other time, I am not to be messed with."
"If you're so bad ass, how come I never heard of you?"
"I prefer to stay out of the spotlight, unlike some sorceress's I know," she said with a smile as she came to stop in front of him. "But I do have a nickname."
"Hot on a stick?"
"No."
"Spanks with magic?"
"Most definitely not."
"I know, you must be the famous BJ Swallows."
"I am going to hurt you."
"I was right?"
"No. And your made up names are just pissing me off."
"Made up? I'll have you know those monikers are just a few of the more famous witch ones I know. Of course, I don't know if their magical abilities extend beyond the pole they dance on, but still, they're very well known in my circles."
"Why am I not surprised?"
"Are you going to tell what your name is then? 'Cause I'm gonna wager it isn't Magical Pie."
He really needed to learn how to keep certain thoughts to himself, an easy thing to promise with the iron grip she had on his balls. Not exactly how he pictured their first time touching. She twisted. He winced.
"Let this be a reminder not to fuck with me. And just so you know, while my nickname is the ~ Eve Langlais

And in all of Babylonia there was wailing and gnashing of teeth, 'til the prophets bade the multitudes get a grip on themselves and shape up. ~ Woody Allen

ON THE A TRAIN

There were no seats to be had on the A train last night, but I had a good grip on the pole at the end of one of the seats and I was reading the beauty column of the Journal-American, which the man next to me was holding up in front of him. All of a sudden I felt a tap on my arm, and I looked down and there was a man beginning to stand up from the seat where he was sitting. "Would you like to sit down?" he said. Well, I said the first thing that came into my head, I was so surprised and pleased to be offered a seat in the subway. "Oh, thank you very much," I said, "but I am getting out at the next station." He sat back and that was that, but I felt all set up and I thought what a nice man he must be and I wondered what his wife was like and I thought how lucky she was to have such a polite husband, and then all of a sudden I realized that I wasn't getting out at the next station at all but the one after that, and I felt perfectly terrible. I decided to get out at the next station anyway, but then I thought, If I get out at the next station and wait around for the next train I'll miss my bus and they only go every hour and that will be silly. So I decided to brazen it out as best I could, and when the train was slowing up at the next station I stared at the man until I caught his eye and then I said, "I just remembered this isn't my station after all." Then I thought he would think I was asking him to stand up and give me his seat, so I said, "But I st ~ Maeve Brennan

I hate
that moment when Aaron and I split – each time it happens, and it
happens a lot. He storms off, or I walk out on him and I have a
split second where I feel I've lost my grip, I'm falling off the edge
of the world, I'm yelling, "Help!" and no one hears me. I'm alone.
But later, when you get a distance and you start to think it through,
it feels like it might not be so bad. ~ Eden Maguire

He let go of the rope one hand at a time and latched onto Lisa's hands. Her fingernails dug into his wrists, but her grip was strong after a summer of lifting girls into the air. It was a tug of war battle between his friends and Shawn's ghost. The wind died down as Shawn gathered all of his energy to pull on Mike. Even though he was terrified of what was happening, Mike knew that Shawn wasn't trying to hurt him. After all these years, he was still trying to find a way out. Shawn wanted to go home too, and he saw the hope of being rescued falling away.
"Shawn! Please! Let me go!" Mike called over the dying wind, "I'll get you help! We'll get you out! Just please! Let me go!"

- Saving Hascal's Horrors ~ Laura Smith

Now, grip the bull tight with your thighs." She dutifully tensed her thighs. "Not tense. Grip. Real hard with your whole thigh." His voice dropped, his lips pressing in closer to her ear as he murmured, "I know you know how to do that."
A surge of heat shot from her core. Didn't he know she was having a hard enough time sitting on the damn thing as it was without sexual innuendo messing with her equilibrium? She shot him a don't-make-me-get-off-this-thing look but gripped.
Hard.
"Atta girl," he whispered.
Joss gritted her teeth. "Don't push your luck, cowboy. ~ Amy Andrews

Once she got a grip on it, it was a death grip, and I would sooner go into her purse looking for Tic Tacs than try to get it away from her. ~ Shay Savage

Look, I'm sorry, Jemma. It took me forever to get there, what with all the flooding and everything. And then I was trying to clean stuff up and…well, I guess the time just got away from me."
I try to pull away, but he tightens his grip. "I didn't mean to scare you," he says.
"Well, you did scare me." I manage to pull one hand loose, and I use it to whack him in the chest. "Idiot!"
"I'm fine, okay? I'm here."
"I wish you weren't!" I yell, fired up now. "I wish you were lying in a ditch somewhere!" I stumble backward, my heel catching on the porch's floorboards.
"You don't mean that," Ryder says, sounding hurt.
He's right; I don't. But I don't care if I hurt his feelings. I'm too angry to care. Angry and relieved and pissed off and…and, God, I'm so glad he's okay. I thump his chest one more time in frustration, and then somehow my lips are on his--hungry and demanding and punishing all at once.
I hear him gasp in surprise. His mouth is hot, feverish even, as he kisses me back. The ground seems to tilt beneath my feet. I stagger back toward the door, dragging him with me without breaking the kiss. Ryder's tongue slips between my lips, skimming over my teeth before plunging inside. And…
Oh. My. God. No one's ever kissed me like this. No one. His hands and his tongue and his scent and his body are pressed against mine…It's making me light-headed, dizzy. Electricity seems to skitter across my skin, raising gooseflesh in its wake. I cling to h ~ Kristi Cook

You listen to me, and listen good!" she shouted, shocking me. "I am not evil because I have a thousand years of demon smut on my soul!" she exclaimed, the tips of her hair trembling and her face flushed. "Every time you disturb reality, nature has to balance it out. The black on your soul isn't evil, it's a promise to make up for what you have done. It's a mark, not a death sentence. And you can get rid of it given time."
"Ceri, I'm sorry," I fumbled, but she wasn't listening.
"You're an ignorant, foolish, stupid witch," she berated, and I cringed, my grip tightening on the copper spell pot and feeling the anger from her like a whip. "Are you saying because I carry the stink of demon magic, that I'm a bad person?"

"No..." I wedged in.

"That God will show no pity?" she said, green eyes flashing. "That because I made one mistake in fear that led to a thousand more that I will burn in hell?"

"No. Ceri -" I took a step forward.

"My soul is black," she said, her fear showing in her suddenly pale cheeks. "I'll never be rid of it all before I die, but it won't be because I'm a bad person but because I was a frightened one. ~ Kim Harrison

You think I'm gonna feel better eatin' a carrot? Get a grip. There's two idiots out there trying to kill me, and you think I'm gonna waste my last breath on a vegetable? (Lula) ~ Janet Evanovich

He couldn't get a grip on his sudden fear: it slipped through the safety bars of his mind and threaded - wormed - into the shadowy pockets where nightmares grew. ~ Nick Cutter

Get a grip on your heart and pride, girl. Nobody has or ever will give a damn whether you're happy or not. ~ Sandy Blair

Do you get it now,Becks?" Jack wrapped a finger around a long strand of my hair, and we were quiet as it slipped through his grip.
"You haven't moved on?"
He chuckled. "I have a lifetime of memories made up of chestnut wars and poker games and midnight excursions and Christmas Dances...It's all you. It's only ever been you.I love you." The last part seemed to escape his lips unintentionally, and afterward he closed his eyes and put his head in his hands,as if he had a sudden headache. "I've gotta not say that out loud."
The sight of how messed up he was made me want to wrap my arms around him and fold him into me and cushion him from everything that lay ahead.
Instead,I reached for his hand. Brought it to my lips. Kissed it.
He raised his head and winced. "You shouldn't do that," he said, even though he didn't pull his hand away.
"Why?"
"Because...it'll make everything worse...If you don't feel-"
His voice cut off as I kissed his hand again, pausing with his fingers at my lips. He let out a shaky sigh and his hair flopped forward. Then he looked at my lips for a long moment. "What if...?"
I bit my lower lip. "What?"
"What if we could be like this again?" He leaned in closer with a smile, and as he did,he said, "Are you going to steal my soul?"
"Um...it's not technically your soul that..."
I couldn't finish my sentence. His lips brushed mine, and I felt the whoosh of transferring emotions,but it wasn't as strong as th ~ Brodi Ashton

When I first got here, every time you'd say breast feeding on the House floor there would be a snicker. This has been happening since creation. Can we finally get a grip on it? ~ Susan Molinari