Hand In Glove Quotes

The more we discover about God, the more we learn about ourselves and vice versa. Self-understanding and God awareness go hand in glove. We are not separated from the way God uniquely designed us; nor is our growing intimacy with God distinct from our ever-deepening self-discovery. Exploring both will lead us into the fullness of our life in the Spirit. ~ Stephen A. Macchia

The health establishment is a blood brotherhood known by the company it keeps, and these moguls need no oath or ritual as they work hand in glove with and for each other - if medicine benefits in the process, all to the good. ~ Edgar Berman

All socio-political phenomena in the U.K. come laden with the baggage of a class-based theory or two attached to them. In the case of gay Tories, there is one particularly silly variant of the category, which asserts that gayness is bred in public schools and thus fits with Conservatism like hand in glove. ~ Evan Davis

I love the way people dress at the races. I love people dressed to the nines during the day. That formal kind of daywear doesn't really exist anymore except at the races. Also I love the tuffs and the working classes being so hand in glove and relying on each other to make the thing happen. ~ Bella Freud

Oh Ireland my first and only love
Where Christ and Caesar are hand in glove! ~ James Joyce

Watch for coupling that's too tight. "Coupling" refers to how tight the connection is between two classes. In general, the looser the connection, the better. Several general guidelines flow from this concept: Minimize accessibility of classes and members. Avoid friend classes, because they're tightly coupled. Make data private rather than protected in a base class to make derived classes less tightly coupled to the base class. Avoid exposing member data in a class's public interface. Be wary of semantic violations of encapsulation. Observe the "Law of Demeter" (discussed in Design and Implementation Issues of this chapter). Coupling goes hand in glove with abstraction and encapsulation. Tight coupling occurs when an abstraction is leaky, or when encapsulation is broken. ~ Steve McConnell

Parallels between classical and pop are not new. The whole San Francisco movement of John Cage and Terry Riley went hand in glove with what the Velvet Underground were doing. ~ Charles Hazlewood

I at this writing am an old man, only three years short of my three score and ten. And they tell me that Wycliffe's bones have been dug up and burned and cast into the river that leads to the sea. The Church--she thinks--has had her revenge.
But, as I hear it, Wycliffe's writings had already touched one man in Bohemia, John Huss, whom the Church burned several years ago. And though both Wycliffe and Huss be dead, There are rumors of unrest in that small country, unrest caused by those who seek true religion.
In England, King Henry rules hand in glove with the Pope, but not forever, I think.
We are still here--the Lollards, I mean. Did you guess it? Yes, I have become a "poor priest." And I will tell you this: the writings of Wycliffe have been driven out of Oxford, but they can be found in every other nook in England. Indeed, many a time I have talked with an Oxford scholar on the road and have seen God open his heart to the truth.
This is what Saint Paul meant when he spoke of Christians as being pressed but never pinned. The Church rages, but the truth goes on. Many a stout English yeoman embraces it in these days and leads his family in true godly worship.
John Wycliffe was our morning star. When all was darkest and England lay asleep in the deadly arms of the papacy, God sent him to us. The Scripture has come to England. What will it hold back? Soon--though perhaps not in my lifetime-- the dawn will break, and there will be a new day in Engla ~ Andy Thomson

Often, superstition and injustice are imposed by the same ecclesiastical and secular authorities, working hand in glove. It is no surprise that political revolutions, scepticism about religion, and the rise of science might go together, ~ Carl Sagan

The Right thinks that the breakdown of the family is the source of crime and poverty, and this they very insightfully blame on the homosexuals, which would be amusing were it not so tragic. Families and 'family values' are crushed by grinding poverty, which also makes violent crime and drugs attractive alternatives to desperate young men and sends young women into prostitution. Family values are no less corrupted by the corrosive effects of individualism, consumerism, and the accumulation of wealth. Instead of shouting this from the mountain tops, the get-me-to-heaven-and-the-rest-be-damned Christianity the Christian Right preaches is itself a version of selfish spiritual capitalism aimed at netting major and eternal dividends, and it fits hand in glove with American materialism and greed. ~ John D. Caputo

See how she leans her cheek upon her hand.
O, that I were a glove upon that hand
That I might touch that cheek! ~ William Shakespeare

Life is a juggling act with your own emotions. The trick is to always keep something in your hand and something in the air. ~ Chloe Thurlow

When one takes into account also His reiterated assertions about His Divinity - such as asking us to love Him above parents, to believe in Him even in the face of persecution, to be ready to sacrifice our bodies in order to save our souls in union with Him - to call Him just a good man ignores the facts. No man is good unless he is humble; and humility is a recognition of truth concerning oneself. A man who thinks he is greater than he actually is is not humble, but a vain and boastful fool. How can any man claim prerogatives over conscience, and over history, and over society and the world and still claim he is 'meek and humble of heart'? But if He is God as well as man, His language falls into place and everything that He says is intelligible. But if He is not what He claimed to be, then some of His most precious sayings are nothing but bombastic outburts of self-adulation that breathe rather the spirit of Lucifer than the spirit of a good man. What avails Him to proclam the law of self-renouncement, if He Himself renounces truth to call Himself God? Even His sacrifice on the Cross becomes a suspect and dated thing, when it goes hand in hand with delusions of grandeur and infernal conceit. He could not be called even a sincere teacher, for no sincere teacher would allow anyone to construe his claims to share the rank and the name of the Great God in heaven. ~ Fulton J. Sheen

We see in the 20th Century an unfortunate trench warfare, in which psychoanalysis, in a struggle against the internalized compulsion and superstition of a particular doctrine, has expressed itself atheistically. By contrast, theology is not merely under suspicion of talking soullessly about God. Both theology and psychology, in striving for human health, need one another like the right and the left hand. ~ Eugen Drewermann

Siva," I said and my heart broke for this beautiful man. "You once told me that love is hard, painful, and anything but pleasant." I laughed, "I feel that with you, Siva. I love you so much it hurts. I didn't have that with Dev. I loved him, of course, but now… When I look back on our relationship I realize that we were more like best friends. He didn't make my heart speed up like this," I said and placed Siva's hand over my heart. "He didn't make my toes curl with a look, he didn't make me love him and hate him at the same time, and he didn't leave me breathless. I love you. I'm in love with you. You're the one I want. You're the one I choose. You are not second best, Siva, do you hear me? You're not. Even if… even if Dev hadn't died I still think we would've found each other. You're my heart and my soul Siva. I fell for you Siva and I fell hard and I'm okay if I never get up. ~ Micalea Smeltzer

So, are you two shagging yet?' He stuck two fingers up at her. 'Did you have to rip a strip off Robertson and Weatherford in front of everyone? Poor sods are doing their best.' 'Come on, I saw her checking you out all through the briefing. Yesterday she thought you were a two-foot wide skidmark on the hand-towel of life, now she's throwing you meaningful glances like they're on buy-one-get-one-free.' Steel grinned. 'You shagged her, didn't you?' 'She's my sister. OK?' 'You shagged your sister? You're disgusting. Told Susan we shouldn't have got you that boxed set of Game of Thrones.' He stood. 'You know what? I'm glad your ribs hurt. Serves you right.' Snow-covered ~ Stuart MacBride

God was still smiling when he went into the guest room for his suitcase. He looked in the closet and under the perfectly made bed. He even pulled out the drawers of the one armoire on the far side of the room, but couldn't find it. He was about to go back downstairs and ask Day when he turned down the long hall and walked into Day's master bedroom. His suitcase was tucked neatly in the corner. He pulled it out but immediately knew it was empty. He looked in the first dresser but those were Day's clothes. The second identical dresser was on the other side and God did a double take at his few toiletries that were neatly aligned on top. God rubbed his hand on the smooth surface and felt his heart clench at how domestic this looked.

His and his dressers…really.

God yanked off his T-shirt and threw it in the hamper along with Day's items. He washed up quickly and went back to his dresser to put on a clean shirt. His mouth dropped when he pulled out the dresser drawer. His shirts were neatly folded and placed in an organized arrangement. God went through all five drawers. His underwear, socks, shirts, sweats, all arranged neatly and in its own place.
He dropped down on the bed and thought for a minute. At first he was joking, but Day really was domesticating him. Was God ready for that? Sure he loved Day, he'd take a bullet for him, but was he ready to play house? He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and middle finger at the slight tension for ~ A.E. Via

[I]n Africa I was a member of a family - of a sort of family that the people of your culture haven't known for thousands of years. If gorillas were capable of such an expression, they would tell you that their family is like a hand, of which they are the fingers. They are fully aware of being a family but are very little aware of being individuals. Here in the zoo there were other gorillas - but there was no family. Five severed fingers do not make a hand. ~ Daniel Quinn

So he gives this whole presentation about the history of earth and life on it, and then at the end, he asks if there are any questions. An old woman in the back raises her hand, and says, 'That's all fine and good, Mr. Scientist, but the truth is, the earth is a flat plane resting on the back of a giant turtle.' The scientist decides to have a bit of fun with the woman and responds, 'Well, but if that's so, what is the giant turtle standing upon?' And the woman says, 'It is standing upon the shell of another giant turtle. And now the scientist is frustrated, and he says, 'Well, then what is that turtle standing upon?' And the old woman says 'Sir, you don't understand. It's turtles all the way down. ~ John Green

Paul reached out his hand and introduced himself. And without waiting to be introduced she whipped out her hand and said, "Hi! I'm Jamie Boyd!" And right away she was talking a mile a minute. She was so chipper I couldn't help but smile. I was like that little dog in Looney Toons who is always following the big bulldog around shouting, "What are we going to do today, Spike?" She was adorable. She started firing off questions, one of which really caught my attention.
"So you were in the Army? What was your MOS?" she asked.
Now, MOS is a military term most civilians have never heard. It stands for Military Occupational Specialty. It's basically military code for "job." So instead of just asking me what my job was in the Army, she knew enough to specifically ask me what my MOS was. I was impressed.
"Eleven Bravo. Were you in?" I replied.
"Nope! But I've thought about it. I still think one day I will join the Army. ~ Noah Galloway

Father, help these young people to see. Help them to show the world that our greatness is not in things we do for ourselves, but in things we do for others. In power that channels itself into kindness, in a hand outstretched in love. Be with these determined students. Help them to believe, when the naysayers come, that you make all things possible. "'And, ~ Lisa Wingate

We don't know what it's like not to be in love with you. We loved you the moment you looked at us, held our hand, danced dirty, kissed us. We were lost in you way before we even met, before the thought crossed your mind that you were bored and we were vaguely good-looking, interesting, exotic, fuckable. While you were weighing options, we were just hoping it wouldn't hurt too much - the fucking, or the falling in love, or the rejection. We didn't get to choose. - Kai Cheng Thom to -----, 2013 (age 22) ~ Jeanette Lynes

Blue got herself back together and then turned on the radio.
Adam hadn't even realized the ancient tape deck worked, but after a hissing few seconds, a tape inside jangled a tune. Noah began to sing along at once.
'Squash one, squash two-'
Adam pawed for the radio at the same time as Blue. The tape ejected with enough force that Noah stretched a hand to catch it.
'That song. What are you doing with that in your player?' Demanded Blue. 'Do you listen to that recreationally? How did that song escape from the Internet?'
Noah cackled and showed them the cassette. It boasted a handmade label marked with Ronan's handwriting: PARRISH'S HONDAYOTA ALONE TIME. The other side was A SHITBOX SINGALONG.
'Play it! Play it!' Noah said gaily, waving the tape.
'Noah. Noah! Take that away from him,' Adam said. ~ Maggie Stiefvater

She shakes my hand in a friendly grip. "Lovely to meet you, sweets. Tell me, are you a virgin?"

Nicholas groans. "Ezzy."

"What? I'm just making conversation." She elbows him. "If you want a shot at this sorry sack, the V-card has to be in pristine condition. Is it, Olivia?"

I stand up tall. "Does anal count? If it does, I qualify."

Esmerelda's red lips open wide in a contagious laugh.

"I like this one, Nicky. ~ Emma Chase

No need to be embarassed. After seeing you in my cousin's nightgown, you've got nothing to hide. But why were you crying in the shower?" he murmured into her hair. She could feel his lips moving against her scalp, and feel the press of his hips through the covers, but his arms were an unyielding cage. She tried to turn over to face him, to welcome him under the covers with her, but he wouldn't let her.

"I was crying because I'm frustrated! Why are you doing this?" she whispered into her pillow.

"We can't, Helen," was all he said. He kissed her neck and said he was sorry over and over, but try as she might, he wouldn't let her face him. She began to feel like she was being used.

"Please be patient," he begged as he stopped her hand from reaching back to touch him. She tried to sit up, to push him out of her bed, anything but suffer lying next to someone who would play with her so terribly. They wrestled a bit, but he was much better at it than she was and felt even heavier than he looked. He easily blocked every attempt she made to wrap her arms or legs or lips around him.

"Do you want me at all, or do you just think it's fun to tease me like this?" she asked, feeling rejected and humiliated. "Won't you even kiss me?" She finally struggled onto her back where she could at least see his face.

"If I kiss you, I won't stop," he said in a desperate whisper as he propped himself up on his elbows to look her in the eye.

Josephine Angelini

I like to go to the frat house and drink with my white friends, because anytime you go drinking at the frat house, white boys bring you a drink and hand it to you like it's a top CIA secret. They'll hand me my drink, and I'll go, 'Man, what the hell is in this?' 'Dude, don't worry. Don't ask, just drink it. I'll see you in 20 minutes.' Next thing you know, I'm buck naked, standing on a coffee table, with a cowboy hat. ~ Aries Spears

I knew that my dad was a good man, a kind man, and though he'd led a wounded life, he'd done the best he could in raising me. Never once had he raised his hand in anger, ~ Nicholas Sparks

It is in general true that in order to create works of art one has to have leisure. On the other hand I think that one needs to experience resistance in a practical sense, and even that which is poignant to bring out what makes easy reading for others. Too much deprivation of course, means death. ~ Marianne Moore

My lady," he said gallantly, "I'm willing to stop whenever you are. Perhaps you'd be better off sticking to more womanly pursuits, like embroidery or music or-"
She bashed him in the ribs. ~ Cynthia Hand

The actual truth about Gad is it's one of the original 13 tribes of Israel, so you can actually trace my lineage back to, like, those guys who had, like, a hand in the Bible and have since become very famous from that. So I come from very famous lineage. Granted, they didn't have cameras back then, so none of them had TV shows. ~ Josh Gad

When he bent down and swept her up in his arms and carried her to the divan, she did not protest. She
fumbled with the buttons of his waistcoat, eager to touch his flesh and feel his heart beat against her hand.
He moved over her and looked down at her with eyes dark with passion. "I have missed you," he said.
"God, how I have missed you."
"Show me," she said, and sighed with happiness when he put his hand on her ankle and began to slide it
up her leg. ~ Julia London

I stepped closer still. He closed his eyes again and covered my hand with his own. 'You smell of violets. You always smell of violets,' he said. 'You've no idea how many times I have walked these moors and smelled them and thought you were near. On and on I walked, following the scent of you, and you were never there. When I saw you in the hall tonight, I thought I had finally gone mad. ~ Deanna Raybourn

Raise your hand if you've spent nights crying yourself to sleep, raise your hand if you've felt as if you'd rather hide in bed all day than face the people that make you feel small or powerless! Raise your hand if you've felt as if you'd rather lie to people than tell them the truth about who you really are, because at least you wouldn't be the victim of hateful behavior or prejudice! And raise your hand if lying feels almost as bad. ~ Dianna Agron

He didn't reprimand Damen. He didn't seem particularly displeased with barbaric behavior, as long as it was directed outward. Like a man who enjoys owning an animal who will rake others with its claws but eat peacefully from his own hand, he was giving his pet a great deal of license.
As a result, courtiers kept one eye on Damen, giving him a wide berth. Laurent used that to his advantage, using the propensity of courtiers to fall back in reaction to Damen's presence as a means of extricating himself smoothly from conversation.
The third time this happened Damen said, 'Shall I make a face at the ones you don't like, or is it enough to just look like a barbarian? ~ C.S. Pacat

Carmyn drops her glass from her lips first and bites into the slice of lime she's holding in her other hand. Her lips wrap around the flesh of the fruit, and my dick flexes in earnest. I've watched women suck on me and not look nearly that seductive. ~ Angeline Kace

The Hole and the Thread A CERTAIN great Sufi was asked about the role and status of some of his predecessors. He said: 'To erect a small building you may first have to excavate a large hole. 'To make a large carpet you may have to start with a single thread. 'When you can see the building or the carpet, your question is answered. 'But when your question is about the hole in the ground and the thread in the hand, you can only be answered in this parable.' * * * ~ Idries Shah

Gently, I ran my hand across his chest, exploring it. My breath felt tight in my throat. He was so beautiful. His muscles were toned, defined, his skin warm and smooth. Stroking my palm up over the line of his collarbone, I felt the firmness of his shoulder, the strength of his bicep. I traced my fingers over the black AK, following the lines of the letters. Alex hardly moved as I touched him, his eyes never leaving me.
Finally I sighed and dropped my hand. I tried to smile. "I've sort of been wanting to do that ever since that first night in the motel room," I admitted. ~ L.A. Weatherly

In less than a year, the magic of being diagnosed had begun to wear off, and my bipolar disorder no longer felt like a story hook. It felt like a part of me I wasn't sure I wanted to sit with anymore. So the further away I got from the diagnosis and all that had led up to it, the more I downplayed the extremes or made them punchlines I could use before anybody else could. I came to resent the head tilts and looks of surprise that go hand in hand with sharing what I'd come to see as a particularly unglamorous part of my life. If this was what interesting was, I didn't want it anymore. I hadn't counted on the most interesting people not being able to opt out. I didn't want to be the woman who does everything despite her bipolar disorder. I wanted to be the woman who has many complexities, her bipolar disorder being just one of them. (You know, a person). ~ Anne T. Donahue

This whole electric universe is a complex maze of similar tensions. Every particle of matter in the universe is separated from its condition of oneness, just as the return ball is separated from the hand, and each is connected with the other one by an electric thread of light which measures the tension of that separateness. ~ Walter Russell

I forbid you to go."

"I am not yours to forbid. Comfort your pride with your conquest!"

"Felicia!"

The raw anguish of it stopped me. Tears were threatening to spill from my eyes so that I had to bend my head, fighting for self-control, and I did not hear him come up beside me. His hand touched my shoulder, then dropped again as I shivered.

"Does this look like pride?" His voice was shaking. "Or must I grovel?"

He was on his knees at my feet, and as I watched he lifted the hem of my gown to his lips and kissed it. I made some sort of sound in my throat, but I could not speak.

"You cannot go." He spoke in a whisper, without lifting his head. "I love you. I have always loved you--I bought you from your vile brother because I could not live without you."

As I stared down at his bowed, bright head, the earth shook under my feet. This could not be happening, I thought. ~ Teresa Denys

I think a lot of parents hand people over a blueprint and say, 'This is how you're supposed to do it.' And my parents, I think, kind of drew a picture and said, 'Here's the good stuff in life. How do you get there?' ~ Rich Mullins

The whole incident could not have taken as much as half a minute. Not to let one's feelings appear in one's face was a habit that had acquired the status of an instinct, and in any case they had been standing straight in front of a telescreen when the thing happened. Nevertheless it had been very difficult not to betray a momentary surprise, for in the two or three seconds while he was helping her up the girl had slipped something into his hand. ~ George Orwell

I swallowed back a wave of concern as her focus jumped from my face to the indigo jewel at my chest. The blue light in the heart of the jewel glowed only faintly. A yank on the braided chain made me lurch forward and I heard Vada cry out in pain. When I looked, the vampiress was cupping her hand as if it hurt. I then understood what had happened: she had attempted to grab the enchanted gemstone and it had shocked her in the process. I flashed an accusatory glare at Vallatrece.

"Do you mean to steal from me?"

"Apparently no. It seems the stone has chosen you."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm not surprised."

"Well, it's mine - that I do know. You can't take it from me. No one can."

"How many have tried?"

I refused an answer to the question. My silence was undaunting.

"Where did you get that pretty trinket anyway? Who gave it to you?"

"No one gave it to me; I found it."

Vallatrece scrunched up her face, communicating that she didn't believe me.

"And now that I have it," I continued, "I no longer require your services."

"You no longer require my services? Is that so?" Again, her cheeks dimpled with amusement at my words.

"Yes, it is so. ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

I don't know," I said, teasingly. "How do I know it's really you? I don't want to let a serial killer into the building. Tell me something only I would know, so I can be sure it's you."
I walked over to the buzzer, smiling as I poised my hand over the button to let him up as soon as he responded.
"The first time we kissed, we were in your bedroom at your mom's house and Better Than Ezra was playing on your iPod."
My smiled faded and my breath caught in my throat. It took all I had to push the button to let him into the building. I hung up the phone, as my heart started pounding in my chest. I felt bad hanging up, but he probably would have lost reception in the elevator anyway. Of all the things he could have said, he had to pick that one. ~ Monica Alexander

Mr. Schock smiled at Peter and raised his hand into the air. Peter instinctively struck it in a perfect high five. Mr. Schock's smile transformed into a puzzeled frown.
"Joshua, how did you...?"
"Peter used to do it," said Peter swiftly. ~ Linda Buckley-Archer

There are so many ways to make a living that don't involve hiding in bushes opposite houses of 18-year-old girls with a camera in your hand. ~ Jamie Dornan

Thank you," she said.
He looked bemused. "For what?"
"For everything. For being amazing in bed and endlessly patient, for sacrificing the Savage Club for me and bringing me all the way around the world simply because you were worried about me, even though it meant you were probably going to spend your holidays alone. For the way you always put your hand on the small of my back to guide me across the street and the way you let me be in charge of the television remote control and the way you have never, not once, judged me or mistrusted me or made me feel small or unwanted."
"Violet, sweetheart ... " He blinked and she realized that he was close to tears.
Her Martin. Mr. Uptight. Mr. Repressed. ~ Sarah Mayberry

In america, there are two tax systems: one for the informed and one for the uninformed. Both are legal ~ Learned Hand

Princess was quiet, in that profound way she had that made silence more than the absence of noise, made it a positive force, an aura wrapped tight around her. Oran had the crazy notion that if he reached out his hand, he could touch it, and the silence would feel like...warm smoke. ~ Ninie Hammon

God knoweth best what is needful for us, and all that He does is for our good. If we knew how much He loves us, we should always be ready to receive equally and with indifference from His Hand the sweet and the bitter: all would please that came from Him. The sorest afflictions never appear intolerable, except when we see them in the wrong light. ~ Brother Lawrence

In the fatal course of the most painful ailments, sometimes [ ... ], sometimes there occur sweet mornings of perfect repose- and that not owning to some blessed pill or potion [ ... ] or at least without our knowing that the loving hand of despair slipped us the drug. ~ Vladimir Nabokov

In the split second from the time the ball leaves the pitcher's hand until it reaches the plate you have to think about your stride, your hip action, your wrist action, determine how much, if any the ball is going to break and then decide whether to swing at it. ~ Duke Snider

Point the way,' he was talking in metaphorical terms. This pointing-hand gesture - with its index finger and thumb extended upward - is a well-known symbol of the Ancient Mysteries, and it appears ~ Dan Brown

Troy sighed with frustration. "Let me get this straight. We're stuck in the story of Romeo and Juliet and we can't get home without a magic charm from Shakespeare's quill, which doesn't exist in this world. However, we might be able to get home when the story ends, but if Romeo and Juliet don't meet, then we don't have a story. More important, we don't have an ending."
Friar Laurence tsk tsked. He placed his speckled hand on Troy's forehead. "Bless you, my son, but a fever has muddled your mind. ~ Suzanne Selfors