Guncle Shirt Quotes

I remember going foraging for breakfast in St. Louis once. I saw this one girl sitting in front of the venue, and she made this pink T-shirt with a big heart in the middle of it and a misty picture of our guitarist Mark [Potter]. She was so embarrassed when she saw me. And I was trying desperately not to laugh. ~ Guy Garvey

How are you going to react when we 're this close and you take off my shirt? Are you still going to want me when you see red and white lines? Are you going to flinch each time you accidentally touch my arms and feel the raised skin? How about when i touch you?"
"Or will you forbid that? Will you tell me how to dress or what i'm allowed to take off? ~ Katie McGarry

Salander was dressed for the day in a black T-shirt with a picture on it of E.T. with fangs, and the words I AM ALSO AN ALIEN. She had on a black skirt that was frayed at the hem, a worn-out black, mid-length leather jacket, rivet belt, heavy Doc Marten boots, and horizontally striped, green-and-red knee socks. She had put on make-up in a colour scheme that indicated she might be colourblind. In other words, she was exceptionally decked out. ~ Stieg Larsson

Go to dinner with me?" His voice whispers against my ear. I start to shake my head when his fingertip lightly traces the birdcage tattoo on my arm. My eyes shut at the sensation. His touch. "I dream about you almost every night." Join the club, buddy, I want to tell him. I dream about me every night, too ... well, until I met him. Now I dream too damn much about him. "Just one date and I will leave you alone if you never want to see me again. Deal?" I open my eyes to gaze into his. There are too many things happening at once. Everything within me says to tell him no. Nothing good can come of this. I know what I have to tell him. "Dinner, not a date," I say, looking him square in the eyes. Holy hell! What did you just do, Keller? Really? Seriously? He grins, not hiding his happiness at my words. I step away, allowing him time to button his shirt up. "Dinner then dessert, and, Keller, it will definitely be a date," he says, ~ Nicole Reed

I had not been at all fair to myself, or to anyone or anything near me, by keeping my cigarettes right there next to me or in my shirt pocket throughout the years. ~ Earl Chinnici

As long as I am winning, people shouldn't care whether my skirt is six inches long or six feet long. How I dress is a very personal thing. It is scary that every time I wear a T-shirt, it becomes a talking point for the next three days. ~ Sania Mirza

I love my bubble skirt. I wear it with a belt and my shirt tucked in. Just like a t-shirt from Nordstrom's or something. And I wear this navy blue blazer with the sleeves crushed up. And I just feel like I'm such a cool girl when I walk out. I feel like, 'Yeah I'm cool, like a model.' ~ Keke Palmer

As soon as we arrived home, I told Bliss I was going to take a shower. Sundays were a two-show day, so I certainly needed it. I let her go in first to brush her teeth. I waited for the water to turn on, then leapt into action. I found Hamlet's feathered cat toy (the only reason she would ever willingly get close to Bliss), and hid it underneath the bed. Then I went to the closet and found the suit coat pocket where I'd hidden the ring. I popped open the box to look at it one more time.

It wasn't much. I was only an actor, after all. But Bliss wasn't one to wear much jewelry any way. It was simple and sparkling, and I hoped she would love it as much as I loved her. A popping sensation filled my gut like those silly candy rocks that Bliss loved.

What if I was pushing her too fast?

No. No, I'd thought this out. It was the best way. I opened the top drawer of the nightstand, and slid the ring box toward the back. The water in the bathroom shut off, and I went back to the closet, shucking my shirt. I tossed it in the hamper at the same time Bliss walked in the room.

She came up behind me and placed a hand on my bare back. She pressed a small kiss on my shoulder and asked, "Get Hamlet for me before you shower?"

I smiled, and nodded.

Bliss was so determined to make Hamlet like her that she played with the cat for at least half an hour before bed every night. Hamlet would stick around for as long as Bliss waved t ~ Cora Carmack

I slip her shirt over her head and she tries to cover herself, but I move her arms out of the way and kiss up her neck while I talk about all the things that are no longer just mine.
'Will, stop.' She laughs and attempts to pull my hands away from her bra. 'You can't take off my bra, we're in our driveway. What if they come outside?'
'It's dark,' I whisper. 'And it's not your bra. It's our bra and I want it off.' I slip it off her, pulling her against me as I rub my hands down the length of her back, then around to the button on the front of her jeans. 'And I want to take off our pants. ~ Colleen Hoover

I can't help it. I'm thinking about sex. Sex with Will Haley. Sex in general. The thing is, I can't make my brain turn the idea into something sexy. Isn't that ridiculous? It's sex. It's inherently sexy. But not to me. Because in hazily lit movies, when the girl pulls her shirt up over her head, she stops being me. The hazily lit girl is never me. She has a flat golden stomach and cute little boobs, and you can see the boy falling for her. You can read it on his face. Under my shirt, there's no flat stomach, and there are no cute little boobs, and there's no hazy lighting. It's just a lot of me. Way too much of me. ~ Becky Albertalli

He opened his mouth to ask what she was about, but the question never made it past his lips. She was naked from the top of her head to the tips of her toes . . . and absolutely beautiful. His bride was a fine figure of a woman, all soft and round. Just the way he liked his women, and his mouth watered at the sight. But it was a very brief view he got before she tugged a long shirt on and let it drop to curtain all that loveliness. "What the bloody hell is that?" As the first real words he'd said since marrying the woman, Ross supposed they left much to be desired. But he was just so shocked at the sight of the ugly shirt covering all that beauty, he couldn't help himself. ~ Lynsay Sands

I wait for a long time without anything changing. The room is still dark, the floor still cold and hard, my heart still beating faster than normal. I look down to check my watch and discover that it's on the wrong hand - I usually wear mine on my left, not my right, and my watchband isn't gray, it's black. Then I notice bristly hairs on my fingers that weren't there before. The calluses on my knuckles are gone. I look down, and I am wearing gray slacks and a gray shirt; I am thicker around the middle and thinner through the shoulders. I lift my eyes to a mirror that now stands in front of me. The face staring back at mine is Marcus's. ~ Veronica Roth

He growled, moaned, winced, and cursed. Yet despite all these sounds of seeming displeasure, he made no effort to discourage her. He made his body hers to explore, just as she'd been longing to do ever since he'd come upon her that first night, draped in a towel and dripping wet.
With one finger, she drew a teasing line down the center of his chest, all the way down to his navel.
He bucked his hips. His erection grazed her sex, and she gasped at the sudden contact. Their bodies were separated by the fine lawn of his shirt and the wool of his trousers, but she could feel him- his length, his heat, his hardness.
His desire.
She'd felt triumphant in tackling him to the bed, but that was nothing compared to the surge of power rushing through her now. The thick, hot column of arousal wedged between her thighs- it was for her. All for her. Excitement rocketed through her body and came to settle in her sex, melting onto a soft, throbbing ache.
Desperate to soothe that ache, she rocked against him. The friction sent a pulse of bliss through her body. Judging by his tortured groan, he felt it, too.
His head fell back against the mattress. "God. Yes. Again. ~ Tessa Dare

Terry," Jennelle waved a hand in front of her monitor, disrupting Terry's view, "he has a tattoo on his back! I know this because his shirt is untucked and starting to ride up. This means skin, hun. ~ Kate Whitaker

In New York, we get down. In L.A., everybody's pretty much standing around like they're at a keg stand. You got to get the party started, so I just take my shirt off. ~ Tracy Morgan

I'm going to kiss you if that's okay," he said.
"It won't be our first kiss," she said.
"No," he said. "I let one slip at the restaurant. I thought about apologizing to you for that, but I didn't feel sorry." And with that, he kissed her. One very soft, very sweet kiss. The kiss was fleeting but it left a big ache for more in its wake. Adrienne gasped, taking in the cool sea air, and then Thatcher kissed her again. Even softer, even shorter. The third time, he stayed. They were kissing. His mouth opened and Adrienne tasted his tongue, sweet and tangy like the lime in his drink. She felt like she was going to burst apart into eighty-two pieces of desire. Like the best lovers, Thatcher moved slowly- for right now, on the blanket, it was only about the kissing. Not since high school had kissing been this intense. It went on and on. They stopped to look at each other. Adrienne ran her fingertips over his pale eyebrows, she cupped his neck inside the collar of his shirt. He touched her ears and kissed the corners of her eyes, and Adrienne thought about how she had come right out with the truth about her mother at dinner and how unusual that was. And just as she began to worry that there was something different this time, something better, of a finer quality than the other relationships she had found herself in, she and Thatcher started kissing again, and the starting again was even sweeter.
Yes, Adrienne thought. Something was different this time.
How much time ~ Elin Hilderbrand

If, in making a portrait, you hope to grasp the interior silence of a willing victim, it's very difficult, but you must somehow position the camera between his shirt and his skin. Whereas with pencil drawing, it is up to the artist to have an interior silence. ~ Henri Cartier-Bresson

BABY BOY, FASHION IS NOT FOR ADVERTISING YOUR FAVE SEX ACTS ON YOUR SHIRT. UNH-UNH, NO IT'S NOT ! ~ Lauren Weisberger

I think this is the first time I have seen you speechless," Lir says with laughing eyes. "Had I only known, I would have removed my shirt sooner. ~ Theresa Kay

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

He seemed normal again, or as normal as Myrnin ever got, anyway. He'd begged, borrowed, or outright stolen a long, black velvet coat, and under it he was still wearing the poofy white Pierrot pants from his costume, dark boots, and no shirt. Long, black, glossy hair and decadently shining eyes.
Oliver took in the outfit, and raised a brow. "You look like you escaped from a Victorian brothel," he said. "One that . . . specialized."
In answer, Myrnin skinned up the sleeves of the coat. The wound in his back might have healed--or might be healing, anyway--but the burns on his wrists and hands were still livid red, with an unhealthy silver tint to them. "Not the sort of brothel I'd normally frequent, by choice," he said, "though of course you might be more adventurous, Oliver. ~ Rachel Caine

I get it – you want to see me without my shirt on. You know what? Let me give you a sneak peek. It's awesome, by the way. You might want to close one eye to reduce the effect. ~ Erin Watt

You don't change the world by hiding in the woods, wearing a hair shirt, or buying indulgences in the form of 'Save the Earth' bumper stickers. You do it by articulating a vision for the future and pursuing it with all the ingenuity humanity can muster. ~ Alex Steffen

Baby, where we're going, you won't need a shirt. ~ Vernon D. Burns

Harlow exhaled. "And you're not wearing the On the Prowl for my Next Baby Daddy shirt?" That got a laugh out of me. "God, I love that shirt. Talk about a surefire way to keep the boys and their come-ons at bay ... " I had to glance down to remember which tee I'd slid into to ensure the guys kept their distance. Ah, classic. No Daddy Issues or Low Self-Esteem Here. "Do ~ Nicole Williams

I'm sure you're just dying to tell me all the campus gossip about me. Right?"
"I do have a life. Maybe I've been too busy to listen to rumors," he huffed, pretending to have hurt feelings.
I looked at him.
He sighed. "Okay, you win. I'm bored out of my skull. Second Magician is busy playing detective, and Gelsi is neck-deep in some project and I never see her anymore." Dax paused dramatically. "My life is so boring that I have to live vicariously through your adventures."
"And since the rumors are so accurate - "
"Your adventures have turned into legends." He swept his arms wide, laughing. "So where are you off to now? Going to slay a dragon? Can Itag along as your lowly squire? I'll polish your staff of power every night with my shirt. I promise."
"I'm glad my problems are keeping you entertained, ~ Maria V. Snyder

The dove descending breaks the air With flame of incandescent terror Of which the tongues declare The one discharge from sin and error. The only hope, or else despair Lies in the choice of pyre or pyre- To be redeemed from fire by fire. Who then devised the torment? Love. Love is the unfamiliar Name Behind the hands that wove The intolerable shirt of flame Which human power cannot remove. We only live, only suspire Consumed by either fire or fire. ~ T. S. Eliot

To expand the definition of freedom you have to keep on setting something free… ~ Talismanist Giebra

The covers slipped between them. Amelia shivered as the cool air wafted over her naked back and shoulders. "Come back to bed," she whispered. "I need you to warm me."
Cam stripped away his shirt, and laughed quietly as he felt her hands plucking at the buttons of his trousers. "What happened to my prudish gadji?"
"I'm afraid" - she reached into his open falls and stroked his aroused flesh - " that continued association with you has made me shameless."
"Good, I was hoping for that. ~ Lisa Kleypas

Can I tell you something without it going to your head?" Shelby murmured as she ran her fingers down his chest, over his ribs.
"Probably not." His voice had thickened from the pleasure of being touched. "I'm reasily flattered."
"In my workroom..." Shelby pressed her lips to his chest and felt his heartbeat thud faster against them. "When I messed up your shirt and you took it off to rinse it? I turned around and saw you-I wanted to get my hands on you like this." She ran her palms up,then down again to where his waist narrowed. "Just like this,I nearly did."
Alan felt his blood start to pound-in his head, his heart,his loins. "I wouldn't have put up much of a fight."
"If I'd decided to have you, Senator," she murmured on a sultry laugh, "you wouldn't have had a chance."
"Is that so?"
Shelby ran her tongue down his rib cage. "Mmm," she said when she heard the small, quick intake of breath. "Just so.A MacGregor will always buckle under to a Campbell."
Alan started to form a retort, then her fingers skimmed his thigh. As a politician, he knew the value of a debate-but sometimes they didn't require words.She could have the floor first. ~ Nora Roberts

I say vague things because that's as close as I can get to stopping myself from saying anything, my mind addled by the feeling of her body through her shirt. ~ Veronica Roth

That thing ruined my favorite T-shirt," complains Mario.
"Whatever." It's Marianne's voice. "You were just looking for a reason to get your shirt off." I try to look around for her, but my neck refuses. ~ Bill Blais

You know the parlor trick.
wrap your arms around your own body
and from the back it looks like
someone is embracing you
her hands grasping your shirt
her fingernails teasing your neck
from the front it is another story
you never looked so alone
your crossed elbows and screwy grin
you could be waiting for a tailor
to fit you with a straight jacket
one that would hold you really tight. ~ Billy Collins

Percy looked at his friends. I'm getting tired of this guy's shirt. ~ Rick Riordan

When I swung open the door, there he was: Marlboro Man, wearing Wranglers and a crisp white shirt and boots. And a sweet, heart-melting smile.
What are you doing here? I thought. You're supposed to be in the shower. You're supposed to be with the sex kitten.
"Hey," he said, wasting no time in stepping through the door and winding his arms around my waist. My arms couldn't help but drape over his strong shoulders; my lips couldn't help but find his. He felt soft, warm, safe…and our first kiss turned into a third, and a sixth, and a seventh. It was the same kiss as the night before, when the phone call alerting him to the fire had come. My eyes remained tightly closed as I savored every second, trying to reconcile the present with the horror movie I'd imagined just moments earlier. I had no idea what was going on. At that point, I didn't even care.
"Ummmmm!!! I'm t-t-t-ttellin'!" Mike teased from the top of the stairs, just before running down and embracing Marlboro Man in a bear hug.
"Hi, Mike," Marlboro Man said, politely patting him on the back.
"Mike?" I said, smiling and blinking my eyes. "Will you excuse us for a couple of minutes?"
Mike obliged, giggling and oooo-ing as he walked toward the kitchen.
Marlboro Man picked me up and brought my eyes to the level of his. Smiling, he said, "I've been trying to call you this afternoon."
"You have?" I said. I hadn't even heard the phone ring. "I, um…I sort of took a nine-hour nap."
Ma ~ Ree Drummond

Kizzy wanted it all so bad her soul leaned half out of her body hungering after it, and that was what drove the goblins wild, her soul hanging out there like an untucked shirt. ~ Laini Taylor

Easing farther inside, he found a woman within who resembled Mariketa. Beside her stood a man who crossed thick arms over his chest, raising his brows at Bowe.
At that moment, Bowe realized that he was meeting Mari's parents - and that, in addition to his bare feet and unshaven, rough appearance, his shirt was on backward. And inside out.
"This is the male she's been seeing?" the man muttered. "He can't even dress himself."
Bowe just stifled the urge to point out that though he might not be able to dress himself, he sure as hell could perceive when a bairn was on his shoulders. Instead he bit his tongue. This warlock, though arrogant, was Bowe's future father-in-law.
"A werewolf, Jill? Really."
"Hush." The woman slapped the back of her hand against his stomach, then said, "I'm Jillian. And this is my husband, Warren. We are Mari's parents. And we know you're Bowen MacRieve of the Lykae clan."
He gave her a nod.
To Bowe, Warren demanded, "Aren't you a bit old for my daughter?"
When Bowe scowled, Jillian blithely continued, "We've been waiting for you. ~ Kresley Cole

As with other terms that have derogatory histories, reclaiming "redneck," "trailer trash," "hillbilly," and so on is a sort of cultural self-defense, I guess. That is understandable enough. But I never would have put you in a shirt with any of those words on it. If such a trend existed when I was little, Mom wouldn't have put me in one, either. ~ Sarah Smarsh

Brushing through my hair was usually bad enough after a shower. Letting it dry without brushing it was a terrible mistake. It was full of painful tangles, and I hadn't made much progress when the door at the end of the veranda opened and Ren walked out. I squeaked in alarm and hid behind my hair. Perfect, Kells.
He was still barefoot, but had on khaki pants and a sky-blue button-down shirt that matched his eyes. The effect was magnetic, and here I was in flannel pajamas with giant tumbleweed hair.
He sat across from me and said, "Good evening, Kells. Did you sleep well?"
"Uh, yes. Did you?"
He grinned a dazzling white smile and nodded his head slightly. "Are you having trouble?" he asked and watched my detangling progress with an amused expression.
"Nope. I've got it all under control."
I wanted to divert his attention away from my hair, so I said, "How's your back and your, um, arm, I guess it would be?"
He smiled. "They're completely fine. Thank you for asking."
"Ren, why aren't you wearing white? That's all I've ever seen you wear. Is it because your white shirt was torn?"
He responded, "No, I just wanted to wear something different. Actually, when I change to a tiger and back, my white clothes reappear. If I changed to a tiger now and then switch back to a man again, my current clothes would be replaced with my old white ones."
"Would they still be torn and bloody?"
"No. When I reappear, they're clean and whole again. ~ Colleen Houck

The red light changed the color of her shirt, and her faded jeans, and her face. Her hair was disheveled, her expression intent, and, taken all together, she looked absolutely beautiful to Jim Chee. It would be a lot better, he thought, if friends didn't look like that. ~ Tony Hillerman

I live in jeans and own a lot of them. I'm much more comfortable in trousers and T-shirts, and I don't often wear dresses. ~ Hayley Mills

His t-shirt hugged the muscles of his arms so tight, I went dry in the mouth and wet in the panties. ~ Melanie Harlow

I've never been a shirt-off, pants-off kind of comedy guy. ~ Jason Sudeikis

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

When you go to a nice restaurant, you want to be relaxed and have a drink and everything, you want to look at people who look well. You don't want to look at some slob with an open shirt and a hairy chest. At least I don't. ~ Iris Apfel

Dear John Ambrose McClaren,

I know the exact day it all started. Fall, eighth grade. We got caught in the rain when we had to put all the softball bats away after gym. We started to run back to the building, and I couldn't run as fast as you, so you stopped and grabbed my bag too. It was even better than if you'd grabbed my hand. I still remember the way you looked--your T-shirt was stuck to your back, your hair wet like you just came out of the shower. When it started to pour, you whooped and hollered like a little kid. There was this moment--you looked back at me, and your grin was as wide as your face. You said, "Come on, LJ!"

It was right then. That's when I knew, all the way down to my soaking-wet Keds. I love you, John Ambrose McClaren. I really love you. I might have loved you for all of high school. I think you might have loved me back. If only you weren't moving away, John! It's so unfair when people move away. It's like their parents just decide something and no one else gets a say in it. Not that I even deserve a say--I'm not your girlfriend or anything. But you at least deserve a say.

I was really hoping that one day I would get to call you Johnny. Your mom came to get you after school once, and a bunch of us were hanging out on the front steps. And you didn't see her car, so she honked and called out, "Johnny!" I loved the sound of that. Johnny. One day, I bet your girlfriend will call you Johnny. She's really lucky. Maybe you alr ~ Jenny Han

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

It's always uncomfortable for me when I take off my shirt. No one else is taking their shift off. Why is everyone else in these movies bundled up in layers of clothing and I'm taking my clothes off all the time? ~ Taylor Lautner

We got out of the car for air and suddenly both of us were stoned with joy to realize that in the darkness all around us was fragrant green grass and the smell of fresh manure and warm waters. 'We're in the South! We've left the winter!' Faint daybreak illuminated green shoots by the side of the road. I took a deep breath; a locomotive howled across the darkness, mobile-bound. So were we. I took off my shirt and exulted ~ Jack Kerouac