Getting Hit On Quotes

Oh God, unattractive and pompous. A winning combination. My inner control panel is screaming ABORT! ABORT! ~ Lauren Morrill

When you spend time as part of a female minority in bars full of drunk men, it was hard not to think that some of them would have hit on me for no other reason than that I was female, regardless of how I acted, what I said, or what I looked like. I therefore learned that getting hit on wasn't necessarily a compliment and, the later it happened in the evening, the less of a compliment it was. - Away from the Spotlight ~ Tamara Carlisle

Thanks again, sir." Jules shook his hand again.
"You're welcome again," the captain said, his smile warm. "I'll be back aboard the ship myself at around nineteen hundred. If it's okay with you, I'll, uh, stop in, see how you're doing."
Son of a bitch. Was Jules getting hit on? Max looked at Webster again. He looked like a Marine. Muscles, meticulous uniform, well-groomed hair. That didn't make him gay. And he'd smiled warmly at Max, too. The man was friendly, personable. And yet . . .
Jules was flustered.
"Thanks," he said. "That would be . . . That'd be nice. Would you excuse me, though, for a sec? I've got to speak to Max, before I, uh . . . But I'll head over to the ship right away."
Webster shook Max's hand. "It was an honor meeting you, sir." He smiled again at Jules.
Okay, he hadn't smiled at Max like that.
Max waited until the captain and the medic both were out of earshot. "Is he - "
"Don't ask, don't tell." Jules said. "But, oh my God."
"He seems nice," Max said.
"Yes," Jules said. "Yes, he does."
"So. The White House?"
"Yeah. About that . . ." Jules took a deep breath. "I need to let you know that you might be getting a call from President Bryant."
"Might be," Max repeated.
"Yes," Jules said. "In a very definite way." He spoke quickly, trying to run his words together: "I had a very interesting conversation with him in which I kind of let slip that you'd resigned again and he was unhappy about tha ~ Suzanne Brockmann

All Sam Peckinpah ever did in his movies was show that getting hit on the chin doesn't sound like [makes a small popping noise]. When one grown man hits another grown man in the face, it splatters like an overripe tomato. And it's not fun getting killed. It's bloody and gory and altogether unpleasant. That's all Sam Peckinpah ever did. ~ Harry Crews

She knew it the way people say they know they are about to be hit by lightning, yet remain powerless to run, unable to avoid their fate. She panicked, as anyone might have when disparate parts of her life were about to crash into each other, certain to leave a path of anguish and debris. It was true that devotion could be lost as quickly as it was found, which was why some people insisted that love letters be written in ink. How easy it was for even the sweetest words to evaporate, only to be rewritten as impulse and infatuation might dictate. How unfortunate that love could not be taught or trained, like a seal or a dog. Instead it was a wolf on the prowl, with a mind of its own, and it made its own way, undeterred by the damage done. Love like this could turn honest people into liars and cheats, as it now did ... ~ Alice Hoffman

A successful man will not lose his shine even if he lowers his head; only those who are willing to lower themselves, would never hit their head on the doorframe or walk on an impassable path. ~ Master Jun Hong Lu

When there is an issue, I approach it and hit it head on. I speak the truth. If I do something wrong, then I own it. ~ Teresa Giudice

My caddie 'Stovepipe' tried to talk me into hitting a 3-wood. But I took out the turf rider (4-wood) instead. The moment I hit it, I felt something in my bones. Walter Hagen was playing with me and Bobby Jones was on the green. 21 people were behind the green. The sun was going down. I wasn't sure it had gone in the hole until I saw all 21 people jumping up and down. ~ Gene Sarazen

It's a classic love story. I hit on him at a party, he asked me out, then we fought an epic magical battle between good and evil side by side, and now we need a vacation. ~ Cassandra Clare

The other problem in my life is Dimitri. He's the one who killed Natalie, and he's a total badass. He's also pretty good-looking. Okay - more than good-looking. He's hot - like, the kind of hot that makes you stop walking on the street and get hit by traffic. ~ Richelle Mead

Words are great, but even I can admit they have certain short-comings. No word can ever give justice to a smile from a man who never smiled or to an old woman who gives up her seat on the bus to a soldier who lost his leg. And I'm still convinced there's no word out there for the feeling you get the first time you ever hit home plate or bury your first dog or muster up enough courage to tell a girl you love her. ~ Laura Miller

Will do, to begin with.' 'A barrowful of what?' thought Alice; but she had not long to doubt, for the next moment a shower of little pebbles came rattling in at the window, and some of them hit her in the face. 'I'll put a stop to this,' she said to herself, and shouted out, 'You'd better not do that again!' which produced another dead silence. Alice noticed with some surprise that the pebbles were all turning into little cakes as they lay on the floor, and a bright idea came into her head. 'If I eat one of these cakes,' she thought, 'it's ~ Lewis Carroll

Being divorced is like being hit by a Mack truck. If you live through it, you start looking very carefully to the right and to the left. ~ Jean Kerr

I learned that you shouldn't take your most esoteric concept and fit it into the largest space with the highest fixed costs. It puts too much pressure on the restaurant to hit grand slams every day when there just aren't enough people who want to watch that sport. ~ Danny Meyer

As she fell, Esther wasn't worried about being blown off course and plummeting into the rocks below. She wasn't worried about hitting the shallows and pin diving to the ocean floor and shattering her spine. She wasn't even worried about Cthulhu. (Okay, maybe a little.) What she worried about was Eugene's willingness to jump. The way he glanced down at the water far below and looked at it like it was home. The way he stepped lightly from the cliff's edge, and the way he fell through the air faster than she did, dragged down by earth's magnetic field. The way he flickered in the sunlight as he hit the water, the same way Tyler Durden flashed on-screen four times before you saw him solidly. Foreshadowing the twist to come. Eugene was afraid of demons, and monsters, and above all the dark, but he was not afraid of death. That scared her more than anything. ~ Krystal Sutherland

They would hit a man in the water, if they were hungry, even if the man had no smell of fish blood nor of fish slime on him.
"Ay," the old man said. "Galanos. Come on galanos. ~ Ernest Hemingway,

That's right,' said Morin smoothly. 'We had better just let Marfa Timofeyevna finish keeping us on the straight and narrow.' Somehow his tone as he said this managed to suggest both that censorship was silly, and that it was silly to mind it. Galich conceded Morin a small internal round of (Applause), his headache whispering in his temples. He was highly accomplished himself at finding pleasure-giving, urbane descriptions of what couldn't be helped, but Morin, moreover, had hit the precise note of the moment, liberally-minded yet unchallenging, ironic yet inoffensive. The ~ Francis Spufford

He patted her hand. "But I will settle for an amiable wife." It was as close to making a declaration of his intentions as he'd come.
So of course Mr. Pinter chose that inopportune moment to enter the breakfast room. "And whose amiable wife are you settling for, sir?" he said in a snide tone.
His gaze dropped to the viscount's hand resting on hers, then darkened. She resisted the urge to snatch her hand free.
The viscount bristled, tightening his hand almost possessively on hers. "Do I know you, sir?"
"Not yet. The name is Jackson Pinter." He came to stand directly across the table and bent forward over it to offer his hand to Lord Basto, forcing the viscount to release her hand to take it. "Some would call me Mrs. Plumtree's 'lackey,'" he added with a side glance at Celia. "Though I work for Lord Stoneville."
She colored, remembering the conversation they'd had a few months ago, when she'd called him that. He was clearly spoiling for a fight. No doubt he was still smarting over her pulling a pistol on him last night. "Mr. Pinter does investigations of all kinds," she explained. "For money."
Mr. Pinter's slate-gray eyes bore into her. "Some of us cannot live on our family's fortune, my lady."
"While some of us are very fond of biting the hand that feeds them." If he could throw her past words at her, then she could throw back what he'd said to her months ago.
She was surprised when a reluctant smile tugged at his lips. "A hit direct, mad ~ Sabrina Jeffries

I got a funny feeling like something was real wrong ...
Looked at her shoes and her feets was real long!
Then it hit me, Oh please God no,
Don't let this ho turn out to be a John Doe ...
He pulled a fast one on me, yo! ~ Fatlip

The universe is not short on wake-up calls. We're just quick to hit the snooze button. ~ Brene Brown

Dogwalker is a book of fiction, with characters based on the types of people who truly exist in the world. I've seen them and know them - some of them I know really well. Although the stories are sometimes gritty and unsettling, my hope is that in the end they hit a positive note. ~ Arthur Bradford

Holy gallnipper, how long till we hit the magic trail? It's gloomier than my own funeral I here."
Camille adjusted the bag's rope and looked at Ira. "Don't even joke about that."
Since the moment they'd entered the forest, she'd felt like something was listening. Like they'd woken some sleeping creature, and now it followed them with silent cunning. The deafening chants had not returned to pierce her eardrums, but danger still felt close.
A few paces ahead of her, Oscar peeled away another cobweb, the octagonal spinning so massive Camille didn't even want to imagine the size of the spider that had created it.
"Mate, you got a stomach made of iron," Ira said.
A flash of orange and black swept in front of Camille's eyes and she felt an odd tug on her dress. She looked down and froze. A spider with a body the size of her first flexed its hairy legs on her skirt. It started to scuttle up. Her scream echoed through the forest as she swiped the spider off. It hit the marshy ground and scampered under a log. Oscar grabbed her arm and pulled her toward him.
"Did it bite you?"
She shook her head, arms and legs stiff with fear.
"I've never seen one so bloody big," Ira said, running past the log as though the spider would leap out at him. Oscar started walking again, his hand on the small of her back. She exhaled with more than one kind of relief. He was at least still concerned for her.
As they started to pick up their pace, another black cr ~ Angie Frazier

What are we talking about?" Alex says. "This is fucking nonsense."

The couple ahead of us turns slightly.

"What are you looking at?" Alex says to them.

I don't bother to reprimand her, because really, what are they looking at? I slow my pace and Alex punches Scottie in the arm.

"Ow!" Scottie screams.

"Alex! Why are we still on this pattern?"

"Hit her back, Dad," Scottie yells.

Alex grabs Scottie's neck.

"You're hurting me," Scottie says.

"That's kind of the point," Alex says.

I grab both children by the arm and pull them down to the sand. Sid covers his mouth with his hand and bends over, laughing silently.

"'What do you love about Mom?'" Alex says, mimicking her sister. "Shut up, already. And stop babying her."

I sit down between them and don't say a word. Sid sits next to Alex. "Easy, tiger," he says. I look at the waves crashing down on the sand. A few women walk by and give me this knowing look, as though a father with his kids is such a precious sight. It takes so little to be revered as a father. I can tell the girls are waiting for me to say something, but what can I say that hasn't been said? I've shouted, I've reasoned, I've even spanked. Nothing works.

"What do you love about Mom, Scottie?" I ask, glaring at Alex.

She takes a moment to think. "Lots of stuff. She's not old and ugly, like most moms."

"What ~ Kaui Hart Hemmings

In meditation I access it; in yoga I feel it; on drugs it hit me like a hammer - at sixteen, staring into a bathroom mirror on LSD, contrary to instruction ("Don't look in the mirror, Russ, it'll fuck your head up." Mental note: "Look in mirror."). I saw that my face wasn't my face at all but a face that I lived behind and was welded to by a billion nerves. I looked into my eyes and saw that there was something looking back at me that was not me, not what I'd taken to be me. The unrefined ocean beyond the shallow pool was cascading through the mirror back at me. Nature looking at nature. Not me, little ol' Russ, tossed about on turbulent seas; these distinctions were engineered. ~ Russell Brand

I would subject myself a black man's harassment a thousand times over rather than watch his face hit the pavement with a police officer's weight on his back. That's not justice. That is a betrayal. ~ Morgan Jerkins

20-some years ago, I'd have a big old radio with a tape deck, and I'd hit record and try to get something down on the tape, but nowadays, I can use my handy little smart-phone; I sing into the app for voice memo. ~ Mary Chapin Carpenter

Yes. I was just telling Elyse here ... frankly, kids, I'm not sure it's even legal to have a female first mate. We'd have to consult the rule book, but as far as I know, regatta's a man's race."
Christian's jaw ticked, just like it had with his father the night of the party. "Damn. Must have hit my head on the way out of that time machine. 1850, are we? I might need some new clothes. Elyse, you sew right? Don't all girls sew? ~ Sarah Ockler

When Neil Armstrong first set foot on the moon, he and all the space scientists were puzzled by an unidentifiable white object. I knew immediately what it was. That was a home run ball hit off me in 1933 by Jimmie Foxx. ~ Lefty Gomez

Something that's bothered me for a while now is the current profligacy in YA culture of Team Boy 1 vs Team Boy 2 fangirling. [...] Despite the fact that I have no objection to shipping, this particular species of team-choosing troubled me, though I had difficulty understanding why. Then I saw it applied to Suzanne Collins's The Hunger Games trilogy – Team Peeta vs Team Gale – and all of a sudden it hit me that anyone who thought romance and love-triangles were the main event in that series had utterly missed the point. Sure, those elements are present in the story, but they aren't anywhere near being the bones of it, because The Hunger Games, more than anything else, is about war, survival, politics, propaganda and power. Seeing such a strong, raw narrative reduced to a single vapid argument – which boy is cuter? – made me physically angry.

So, look. People read different books for different reasons. The thing I love about a story are not necessarily the things you love, and vice versa. But riddle me this: are the readers of these series really so excited, so thrilled by the prospect of choosing! between! two! different! boys! that they have to boil entire narratives down to a binary equation based on male physical perfection and, if we're very lucky, chivalrous behaviour? While feminism most certainly champions the right of women to chose their own partners, it also supports them to choose things besides men, or to postpone the question of partnership in favour of ~ Foz Meadows

The doctors had hit an artery, which is not standard procedure. They worked quickly to deal with it-to this day I have no idea what actually happened, but whatever they did worked, because our beautiful Angel was born soon after.
Chris was the first person to hold her. They word beaming was invented to describe the proud expression on his face.
I went into the recovery room and slept for a while. When I woke up, Chris was holding Angel. He looked so natural with her-a big six-footer holding a six-pound bundle in the crook of his arm, already bonded to her.
"Do you want to hold her?" he asked.
I was exhausted, and I knew she was safe with him, so I told him no.
He forced himself to smile. He explained later that he thought my response meant I was rejecting the baby-having worked on a ranch, I guess he had seen animals do that, with dire results for their new offspring. But of course I wasn't; they just looked perfect together, and I was barely conscious.
I asked for her a few minutes later, when I felt stronger. He passed her on gently, and I held her for the first time. There is no way really to describe how that feels.
In many ways, the birth was a miracle, not a disaster. Because of Angel's dilemma, her father was able to be there at her birth-something that wouldn't have happened had that ultrasound been routine, since I would have waited another four or five weeks for her. A potential tragedy had been turned into something beautiful. It ~ Taya Kyle

Two reefs tower in front of the anarchist. The first, the state, must be overcome, especially in a hurricane, when the waves soar. He ineluctably runs aground on the second one, society, the very image that flickered before him. There is a brief intermezzo between the fall of the legitimate powers and the new legality. Two weeks after Kropotkin's funeral cortege, in which his corpse had followed the Black Banners, the sailors of Kronstadt were liquidated. This is not to say that nothing had happened in between - Merlino, one of the disillusioned, hit the nail on the head: 'Anarchism is an experiment. ~ Ernst Junger

I know that. I just don't feel it sometimes. Over there I felt like I
hadn't a care in the world. Things felt so good and it was almost as
if every muscle in my body relaxed the moment I landed there. I
haven't laughed so much in years. I felt like a 23-year-old, Steph. I
haven't felt like that much lately. I know this probably sounds weird
but I felt like the me that I could have been.
I liked that I didn't have to look out for somebody else while I
walked down the street. I didn't have the fifty near heart attacks per
day that I usually get when Katie goes missing or puts something in
her mouth that she shouldn't. I didn't have to dive onto the road
and hold her back just in time from being hit by a car. I liked that I
didn't have to give out, correct people on their pronunciation or
make threats. I liked laughing at a joke without my sleeve being
tugged at and being asked to explain. I liked having adult conversations
without being interrupted to cheer and applaud a silly dance
or the learning of a new word. I liked that I was just me, Rosie, not
mummy, thinking just about me, talking about things I liked, going
places I liked to go without having to worry about nappy changes,
bottle feeding or sleepy-head tantrums. Isn't that awful? ~ Cecelia Ahern

As a matter of fact, your happiness depends far more on the number of instances of positive feelings, what psychologists call "positive effect", then on their intensity when they hit. In other words, good news is good news first. How good matters rather little. So to have a pleasant life you should spread those small effects across time as evenly as possible. Plenty of mildly good news is preferable to one single lump of great news. The same is property in reverse applies to our unhappiness. It is better to lump all your pain into a brief period, rather than have it spread out over a long time. ~ Nassim Nicholas Taleb

Just before she was about to hit send she deleted the kisses. In case the therapist thought she was leading him on. Then she thought of all the actual kissing they'd done last night. Ridiculous. She may just as well kiss him in a text message. She made it three kisses and went to hit send, but then she wondered if it would seem overly romantic, and changed it back to one kiss, but that seemed stingy, compared to his two, as if he was trying to make a point She made a 'tch' sounded, added back in the second kiss and hit send. ~ Liane Moriarty

I studied voiceover, and I studied acting and I got my first series and my first agent a week out of high school. And it took me about five years of hit-or-miss auditioning and booking on occasion before I could support myself totally as an actor. ~ Bob Bergen

School was out for the day, it was just barely starting to feel like spring, and everybody streamed through the hallways drunk on 3:15-p.m. freedom, leaving the rush of students headed for the main doors only long enough to pause at their lockers before rejoining it, like all of it was choreographed, every moment rehearsed, every sound and sight a special effect
the slam and rattle of the metal locker doors, the "call me laters" and "fuckin' chemistry tests" loud and throaty, the thick smell of just-lit cigarettes as soon as you hit the outside steps, the sound of mix tapes blaring from cars as they tore away from the student parking lot, windows down on both sides. I usually liked to soak in all of that for a minute or two, just linger at my locker before heading off to change for practice. But that day there was Coley. ~ Emily M. Danforth

I absorbed the fact that we're finally here, and it hit me that this is really happening."
"Hell yeah it is." Rhone winked and caressed his palm down Adam's waist to his hip. "Better not faint on me at the altar." Leaning down, he whispered oh-so-very-softly in Adam's
ear, "Or else I'll make you ten times redder with the method I use to bring you out of your swoon." He licked his tongue into Adam's ear and shot a reaction straight down to his cock. ~ Cameron Dane

On that golden summer day, the young woman had just finished her morning run. She had sprinted the last half mile, then stopped abruptly to catch her breath. She was bent at the waist, hands on her knees, eyes on the ground, her mind a world away, perhaps in Barcelona or Tuscany or Rome, exulting in the enchanting sights she would soon see, the splendid life she would have.

It was then that the train hit her.

Unaware, unthinking, oblivious to everything but the beguiling visions in her head, she had ended her run on the railroad tracks that wound through the center of her small Oregon town, one moment in the fullest expectancy of her glorious youth, adrenaline and endorphins coursing through her body, sugarplum visions dancing in her head, the next moment gone, the transition instantaneous, irrevocable, complete.

If I'd had to die young, hers is the death I would have chosen. ~ Lionel Fisher

I grew up playing on unprepared surfaces where your wicket depended on quickly adapting to the bounce. As a kid, I could never differentiate off-spin from leg-spin. All I looked to do was to try to hit the ball before it pitched. ~ Gautam Gambhir

Are you busy?" I ask.

"I'm working on a paper. Recall? The phone conversation we had fifteen minutes ago?"

I glance up at a clock in the hall, and then back at his smart-ass mouth.

"It was twenty minutes ago."

"I need coffee," he says, and why is he being such an adorable dick, still smiling at me like that? "Want to walk up to Dunkin' Donuts?"

"What about Millie?" I say.

"What about her?"

"Does she want any?"

"Should we call her and ask?"

"Isn't she upstairs?"

"How hard did you hit your head last night? ~ Mercy Brown

I would much rather fight pride than vanity, because pride has a stand-up way of fighting. You know where it is. It throws its black shadow on you, and you are not at a loss where to strike. But vanity is that delusive, that insectiferous, that multiplied feeling, and men that fight vanities are like men that fight midges and butterflies. It is easier to chase them than to hit them. ~ Henry Ward Beecher