Hairy Palms Quotes

Careful with those hairy palms, Eugene. ~ A. Cretan

I avoid writing about sex out of a certainty that no matter how grown up and matter-of-fact I might try to be, there is a snickering yet nun-terrorized 12-year-old-boy inside me who would at some point be certain to grab the reins in his hairy palms. ~ Lynn Coady

God can do anything. He has all power in the palm of His Hand. My Body, like all other bodies, is a temporary habitation; but, My Power is eternal, all-pervasive, ever-dominant. ~ Sathya Sai Baba

The dark warrior jumped high into the air, his knees almost striking his chest, then landed in a crouch and leapt back up spinning around, his sword slicing the air. And I wondered how it was possible for him to move like that in mail...

Beynor just stood there, rooted to the ground like an ash. "Heimdall's hairy ballsack," he said, "he's a giant flea! ~ Giles Kristian

My mother understood, implicitly, the power of it. See these hips, these teeth, these eyebrows, these stockings that bunch and sag at the ankles? They're worth capturing, holding on to forever. I'll never be this young again. Or this lonely. Or this hairy. Come one, come all, to my private show. ~ Lena Dunham

The dwarf's eyes widened - at least I think they widened, since they became much more visible in his hairy face - and he froze.
"Would you prefer to retrieve the missive yourself, M'lady Wisp?" he asked.
"I'd rather not," I said. No way was I touching some strange dude's vest, no matter how impressive his beard. ~ E.J. Stevens

Nay," she said stubbornly. "I have just been told that the only chance I have for freedom is in your hands and by all that is holy, you will deliver me my freedom or I shall see to it that you live out the rest of your life in merciless misery."
He gaped at her. On any other man such an expression would have looked foolish, but to credit Lord Stryder, even when taken by surprise, he still managed to carry off an air of supreme authority and handsomeness. "I beg your pardon? Have you gone completely mad?"
"Not I, but rather the king you love so well. It appears he would see us marry."
"My hairy arse."
She gave him a droll stare. "That is much more information about your person, Lord Stryder, than I care to know. ~ Kinley MacGregor

Solzhenitsyn recounted a party conference in Moscow that ended with a tribute to Stalin. Everyone stood and clapped wildly for three minutes, then four, then five ... and then no one dared to be the first to stop. After eleven minutes of increasingly stinging palms, a factory director on the platform finally sat down, followed by the rest of the grateful assembly. He was arrested that evening and sent to the gulag for ten years.278 ~ Steven Pinker

While Martha's skins fell off her tomatoes like a silk slip off a supermodel, our skins got caught in the deep folds and stuck stubbornly. It was like trying to peel leather pants off of a sweaty, hairy, fat guy. ~ Josh Kilmer-Purcell

When the pope sits on the chamber pot to shit, does he believe in his own infallibility? Does not every imposter occasionally recognize his own hairy, homely humanity? Perhaps not; worn long enough, sometimes the Mask of Authority becomes the man. Even looking in a mirror, he will see the sacred Mask and not his own ordinary human face. ~ Robert Anton Wilson

If you stand right at the edge of the night sky, some place where one o'clock leaves to meet two, the breeze will carry your words up to the stars. And they'll swallow your secrets until its time to hand them over to the truths in the sky- the ones that draw maps in the black.

They carve their answers into the backs of my hands, the grooves of the words running deep in my palms. ~ Marlen Komar

EPISODE 2 As we there are where are we are we there from tomtittot to teetootomtotalitarian. Tea tea too oo. With his broad and hairy face, to Ireland a disgrace. SIC. Whom will comes over. Who to caps ever. And howelse do we hook our hike to find that pint of porter place? Am shot, says the big-guard. ~ James Joyce

This way," he murmurs and abruptly is inside me once more, but he doesn't start his usual punishing rhythm straight away. He leans over, releases my hands, and pulls me upright so I am practically sitting on him. His hands move up to my breasts, and he palms them both, tugging gently on my nipples. I groan, tossing my head back against his shoulder. He nuzzles my neck, biting down, as he flexes his hips, deliciously slowly, filling me again and again.
"Do you know how much you mean to me?" he breathes against my ear.
"No," I gasp.
He smiles against my neck, and his fingers curl around my jaw and throat, holding me fast for a moment. "Yes, you do. I'm not going to let you go." I groan as he picks up speed. "You are mine, Anastasia." "Yes, yours," I pant. "I take care of what's mine," he hisses and bites my ear. ~ E.L. James

She held out her hands, palms up, the white fingers lightly spread, and with a barely audible click, ten double-edged, four-centimeter scalpel blades slid from their housings beneath the burgundy nails.
She smiled. The blades slowly withdrew. ~ William Gibson

Jon Spiro had not hired Pex and Chips for their debating sills. In the job interview, they had only been set one task. A hundred applicants were handed a walnut and asked to smash it however they could. Only two succeeded. Pex had shouted at the walnut for a few minutes, then flattened it between his giant palms. Chips had opted for a more controversial method. He placed the walnut on the table, grabbed is interviewer by the ponytail, and used the man's forehead to smash the nut. Both men were hired on the spot. They quickly established themselves as Arno Blunt's most reliable leiutenants for in-house work. They were not allowed outside Chicago, as this could involve map reading, something Pex and Chips were not very good at. ~ Eoin Colfer

The wind gusted through the palms and the fronds rubbed together like crumpled tissue paper. It carried the scent of manure and gasoline and the orchard behind the fence. It blew under the thin material of my dress, and I shivered when it slipped over my skin. I envied its reckless abandon, the way it touched without fear. ~ Heather Demetrios

Michael, in a motel in Twentynine Palms, a gun in his hands. Not at Meredith's, painting in an explosion of new creation. Not over on Sunset, digging through the record bins, or at Launderland separating the darks and lights. Not at the Chinese market, looking at the fish with their still-bright eyes. Not at the Vista watching an old movie. Not sketching down at Echo Park. He was in a motel room in Twentynine Palms, putting a bullet in his brain. ~ Janet Fitch

Danny had never been so aware for anyone else in his life. Everything shrank from a universe to a pinpoint, every turn of the earth dependent on his next breath, each touch lingering until those eyes found his.
Colton pressed a hand to Danny's chest and laid his mouth gently against his. Danny wasn't prepared for it - the reminder that Colton was not like him, that his palms were smooth and free of flaws, that his wrist showed no veins, that his mouth tasted of copper and of sweet clean air.
He was a boy of air and dust and sunlight. Everything that had gone into the making of the world. ~ Tara Sim

Everywhere he went he saw this same phenomenon - parents unmindful of their children, their attention fixed on little glass windows in the palms of their hands, mesmerized like drug addicts, longing for some artificial connection while their own flesh and blood careened wildly through a chaotic and violent world behind their backs. The writer was even worse. He invented false worlds and peopled them with ghosts while his motherless son scanned the horizon for a human connection. It was shameful. What did a man need to lose to be shaken from his immersion in a dream? What terminal force could liberate him from the pursuit of phantoms and engage him in the living world around him? ~ Douglas Wynne

The Faerie Courts are duking it out up there, and it's probably going to be very hairy. The Summer Lady is our baddie, and the Winter Knight is her bitch. She has a magic hankie. She's going to use it to change a statue into a girl and kill her on a big Flintstones table at midnight. ~ Jim Butcher

Put me down. This isn't funny." My feet make little ineffectual spirals. This isn't the first time a big kid's thrown his weight around with me. Marcus DuShay in third grade once slung me onto the hood of the principal's car and ran off laughing. The plight of the little humans. There is no dignity for us in this oversize world.

"Visit me up here for a sec."

"What on earth for?" I try to slide down but he spans his hands on my waist and presses me against the wall. I squeeze his shoulders until I come to the informed conclusion that his body is extravagant muscle under these Clark Kent shirts.

"Holy shit." His collarbone is like a crowbar under my palms. I say the only idiotic thing I can think of. "Muscles. Bones."

"Thanks. ~ Sally Thorne

Shahrzad closed her eyes in defeat and slid her palms to his chest. Then she reached behind him in an embrace of sandalwood and sun. Khalid wrapped both his arms around Shahrzad, and they stood together under the dome of the Grand Portico, with the indecipherable art of love poems giving silent testament. ~ Renee Ahdieh

I don't smoke but I keep a match box in my pocket, when my heart slips towards sin, I burn the matchstick and heat my palm with it, then say to myself, "Ali you can't even bear this heat, how would you bear the unbearable heat of hellfire?" ~ Muhammad Ali

Admitting you were afraid was one of the most difficult things to own up to as a human being. We were programmed to always say that we were fine or good - that showing fear is a sign of weakness. But it's not. It's one of the bravest things you can do to surrender that fear from yourself and place it into the open palms of someone else. ~ Micalea Smeltzer

Edin Viso's poetry and prose bear the obvious marks of dark drama-of a soul variously splayed apart and cinched back together...This is a book of psalms-at once craggy and rough as the Balkan landscape, and sublime as sunrise on the Aegean Sea. There are calluses on the palms, dried blood on the knuckles, and dirt under the fingernails of these pieces. And there is grace...Edin is a poet who knows the value of a blanket, a single orange, a moment shared...He is a man who is unafraid, and who does, in the pages before you, "take off his skin and dance in his bones.". ~ Stephen T. Berg

For me exotic means beaches, palm trees and sand and frolicking in the ocean ~ Priyanka Chopra

Nice to meet ya," Popeye said. He sort of held his hand out. "Do we shake?" "Of course," Ronald said, enveloping the small man's hand in his massive hairy one. "Decorum doesn't go away just because there are bodies on the ground." Ronald ~ Jake Bible

She wondered if she should have asked about the dozen porgs perched on the dashboard, watching the Wookiee work - or the porg that had been sitting companionably on his hairy shoulder.
She supposed the porgs would be dinner soon enough, and the Wookiee was using the Falcon as a larder. Treating tomorrow's meal as today's pet struck Rey as a bit odd, but then it was a big galaxy, and every species was entitled to its quirks. ~ Jason Fry

Some team! The Chief was doing so many jobs alone. I'd fix on the Chief's raw, rope-burned palms or all the gray hairs collected in his sink, and I'd suffer this terrible side pain that Kiwi said was probably an ulcer and Ossie diagnosed as lovesickness. Or rather a nausea produced by the "black fruit" of love - a terror that sprouted out of your love for someone like rotting oranges on a tree branch. Osceola knew all about this black fruit, she said, because she'd grown it for our mother, our father, Grandpa Sawtooth, even me and Kiwi. Loving a ghost was different, she explained - that kind of love was a bare branch. I pictured this branch curving inside my sister: something leafless and complete, elephantine, like a white tusk. No rot, she was saying, no fruit. You couldn't lose a ghost to death. ~ Karen Russell

Your people, your guards-- they're nothing more than killers, rapists and thieves. The only difference between them and criminals is the uniform they wear."
She pulls herself to her feet and palms the tears from her eyes.
"Fool yourself all you want, little prince, but don't feign innocence with me. I won't let your father get away with what he's done. I won't let your ignorance silence my pain. ~ Tomi Adeyemi

I swear, Daimons or not, if you don't behave, Z, I'm going to send you to Antarctica and leave you there to rot. (Acheron)
Ooo. I'm terrified. Those killer penguins and hairy seals are really scary. (Zarek) ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

It is said that Indians were sometimes named for the first thing they saw when they were born. Makes you wonder why there aren't more Indians named Hairy Pussy, doesn't it? ~ George Carlin

Ultimately, Roger learned only of the encounter with the urban bees. The boy remained thoroughly fascinated by what he heard nonetheless, his blue-eyed stare never once straying from Holmes; his visage passive and accepting, his eyes wide, Roger's pupils stated fixed on those venerable, reflective eyes, as though the boy were seeing distant lights shimmering along an opaque horizon, a glimpse of something flickering and alive existing beyond his reach. And, in turn, the gray eyes that focused sharply on him - piercing and kind at the same instant - endeavoured to bridge the lifetime that separated the two of them, attempting to do so as brandy was sipped, and the vial's glass grew warmer against soft palms, and that seasoned, well-lived voice somehow made Roger feel much older and more worldly than his years. ~ Mitch Cullin

You don't have to do that," I said, staring down at my hands.
He turned his head to me. "Do what?"
I rubbed the sweat from my palms off on my jeans. "Stick around. You can leave if you want. I'm not expecting you to stay and babysit me."
"Hey," he nudged me with his shoulder, drawing my gaze to his. "I'm staying. You won't get rid of me that easily."
Despite the tremors of relief coursing through me, I didn't relax. "The offer stands. Any time you want to go just ... go."
"Well, I don't want the offer, because I'm not going anywhere, not unless you're coming with me."
"Why?" It took a second to realize that the barely whispered word had come from me.
He reached for my hand. His long, warm fingers laced through mine, and that was all the answer I needed. ~ Airicka Phoenix

Mostly, they were ashamed of us. Our floppy straw hats and threadbare clothes. Our heavy accents. Every sing oh righ? Our cracked, callused palms. Our deeply lined faces black from years of picking peaches and staking grape plants in the sun. They longed for real fathers with briefcases who went to work in a suit and tie and only mowed the grass on Sundays. They wanted different and better mothers who did not look so worn out. Can't you put on a little lipstick? They dreaded rainy days in the country when we came to pick them up after school in our battered old farm trucks. They never invited over friends to our crowded homes in J-town. We live like beggars. They would not be seen with us at the temple on the Emperor's birthday. They would not celebrate the annual Freeing of the Insects with us at the end of summer in the park. They refused to join hands and dance with us in the streets on the Festival of the Autumnal Equinox. They laughed at us
whenever we insisted that they bow to us first thing in the morning and with each passing day they seemed to slip further and further from our grasp. ~ Julie Otsuka

Asking Wolf to couples' skate is like bungee jumping without a cord-it may be the bravest thing I've ever done in my life.
Or it could be the stupidest.
There's only one way to find out.
I look him dead in the eyes, summoning up both my courage and my sense of reckless abandon, but before I can even speak one syllable-
"Oh!" he says, looking over one shoulder and dropping his hands. "Kaitlyn's free now. I gotta get over there!"
He rushes off, blowing me an air kiss.
My mouth should get used to falling open when he's around, either from his good looks or from his total lack of comprehension of all things polite. Did that just happen?
My face in my palms, I lean on my elbows against the rail, invisible, and fall into an intoxicating state of self-pity. ~ Alecia Whitaker

Comics who grew up surviving their childhood by being able to be the first one to make the joke about their weight or their hairy arms - like me - whatever they're insecure about, whatever they're apologizing for, that becomes their strength. ~ Sarah Silverman

New rule: every fantasy author who doesn't treat horses like tireless hairy motorcycles automatically gets a Hugo. ~ Jim C. Hines

I don't know what actually goes down in heaven, if heaven has a grand staircase or a theater where you get to see your impact in a "Crash" kind of cinematic adventure, but I do know our stories work that way--the imprints of ourselves we press into the palms of others have the power to be passed and passed through the hands of many. That the smallest things we do, never thinking twice about them, might be the very things that keep a person alive, and breathing, and standing on that day. I've stopped doubting that kind of impact because believing in it - believing in miracles in the mud of the mundane - gives you so much more purpose than not believing in it at all. ~ Hannah Brencher

When you tell me to be good, it makes me want to be good,' I say, hearing the undisguised desire in my voice. I run my fingers through the hair at her temples, taking her face between my palms, and she doesn't move. 'It also makes me want to be very, very bad. ~ Tammara Webber

Christ, she missed him outrageously. Disgusted with herself, she ducked her head under the spray and let it pound on her brain.
When hands slipped around her waist, then slid up to cup her breasts, she barely jolted. But her heart leaped. She knew his touch, the feel of those long, slim fingers, the texture of those wide palms. She tipped her head back, inviting a mouth to the curve of her shoulder.
"Mmm. Summerset. You wild man."
Teeth nipped into flesh and made her chuckle. Thumbs brushed over her soapy nipples and made her moan.
"I'm not going to fire him." Roarke trailed a hand down the center of her body.
"It was worth a shot. You're back ... " His fingers dipped expertly inside her, slick and slippery, so that she arched, moaned, and came simultaneously. "Early," she finished on an explosive breath. "God."
"I'd say I was just on time. ~ J.D. Robb