Hitchhikers Thumb Quotes

I used to read in books how our fathers persecuted mankind. But I never appreciated it. I did not really appreciate the infamies that have been committed in the name of religion, until I saw the iron arguments that Christians used. I saw the Thumbscrew - two little pieces of iron, armed on the inner surfaces with protuberances, to prevent their slipping; through each end a screw uniting the two pieces. And when some man denied the efficacy of baptism, or may be said, 'I do not believe that a fish ever swallowed a man to keep him from drowning,' then they put his thumb between these pieces of iron and in the name of love and universal forgiveness, began to screw these pieces together. When this was done most men said, 'I will recant.' Probably I should have done the same. Probably I would have said: 'Stop; I will admit anything that you wish; I will admit that there is one god or a million, one hell or a billion; suit yourselves; but stop.'

But there was now and then a man who would not swerve the breadth of a hair. There was now and then some sublime heart, willing to die for an intellectual conviction. Had it not been for such men, we would be savages to-night. Had it not been for a few brave, heroic souls in every age, we would have been cannibals, with pictures of wild beasts tattooed upon our flesh, dancing around some dried snake fetich.

Let us thank every good and noble man who stood so grandly, so proudly, in spite of opposition, of hatred and dea ~ Robert G. Ingersoll

Perhaps he had to be close in order to keep a reason for the things he did. To make the things he did be themselves Life. And not merely a delightful excercise of technical skill which man had been able to achieve because he, of all animals, had a fine thumb. Which is nonsense, for whatever you live is Life. ~ Robert Penn Warren

Rocking back on his haunches, he ran the pad of his thumb down her sex and swirled it through her moisture. "You're so wet for me."
"Tis a good thing?" she asked with a tremor in her voice.
His deep chuckle rolled though her chest. "Aye, a very good thing. ~ Amy Jarecki

She looked the way a rose petal looks when you crush it between finger and thumb. ~ Rupert Thomson

Clear night, thumb-top of a moon, a back-lit sky.
Moon-fingers lay down their same routine
On the side deck and the threshold, the white keys and the black keys.
Bird hush and bird song. A cassia flower falls.
I want to be bruised by God.
I want to be strung up in a strong light and singled out.
I want to be stretched, like music wrung from a dropped seed.
I want to be entered and picked clean.
And the wind says "What?" to me.
And the castor beans, with their little earrings of death, say "What?" to me.
And the stars start out on their cold slide through the dark.
And the gears notch and the engines wheel. ~ Charles Wright

When I saw any of those kinds of beauty I knew I was alive, and not just in the sense that when I hit my thumb with a hammer I knew I was alive, but rather in the sense that I was partaking of something
something was passing through me that it was in my nature to be a part of. ~ Neal Stephenson

Instead Wymack snapped his fingers at Neil and jerked his thumb toward the court door. "Tell your pet psycho to knock it off before he cripples someone." "I don't think he'll listen to me," Neil said. "You and I both know he will. Now get. ~ Nora Sakavic

I used to think that pain was my body's way of telling me something was wrong. Now I think that while that is sometimes true, more often pain is some little bit of my body bitching about being asked to do something it doesn't want to, but once it figures out that I'm serious, it shuts up and delivers. My new rule of thumb is that if something hurts, unless it's debilitating, I give it five kilometers to go away. It usually does. ~ Paul Klipp

But do you really think it's wise under the circumstances? I mean, here we are on the run and everything, we must have the police of half the Galaxy after us by now, and we stop to pick up hitchhikers. ~ Douglas Adams

His thumb grazed her lips, slightly swollen from his hard kisses, as a smile softened his expression. "I didn't think you could be more beautiful," he said, "but then you went and screamed my name." Blush ~ J.M. Darhower

I've not had to ask permission from Geraldine to take the job. I'm one of the few men in this life who are not under the thumb. I'm stronger than that. Did she want me out of the house? Listen, she's wanted me out of the house for the past 27 years and has often asked me not to come back again. But I always show up, and really, she can't do without me, because I'm brilliant. ~ Martin O'Neill

Let go."
"Make me let you go."
She looked at Arin. Whatever he saw in her eyes loosened his hands. "Kestrel," he said more quietly, "I have been whipped before. Lashes and death are different things."
"I won't die."
"Let Irex set my punishment."
"You're not listening to me." She would have said more, but realized that his hands still rested on her shoulders. A thumb was pressing gently against her collarbone.
Kestrel caught her breath. Arin startled, as if out of sleep, and pulled away.
He had no right, Kestrel thought. He had no right to confuse her. Not now, when she needed a clear mind.
Everything had seemed so simple last night in the close dark of the carriage.
"You are not allowed," Kestrel said, "to touch me."
Arin's smile was bitter. "I suppose that means we are no longer friends."
She said nothing.
"Good," he said, "then you can have no reason for fighting Irex."
"You don't understand."
"I don't understand your godforsaken Valorian honor? I don't understand that your father would probably rather see you gutted than live with a daughter who turned away from a duel?"
"You have very little faith in me, to think that Irex would win."
He raked a hand through his short hair. "Where is my honor in all this, Kestrel?"
They locked eyes, and she recognized his expression. It was the same one she had seen across the Bite and Sting table. The same one she had seen in the pit, when the auctioneer ~ Marie Rutkoski

You wanna be friends?"
Click click. Was that so impossible? Was he so mad, suddenly disliked her so much again, that he didn't want to be in the same building? "Yes."
"Friends like before or after we had sex on the floor?"
Her thumb stopped. "Before."
"Not interested."
"Why?"
"Because I don't want to be your friend."
"Oh." She swallowed her disappointment. It might be for the best, but she suddenly didn't want what was for the best. She didn't want to hate Sam and have Sam hate her. What choice did she have? "Okay."
"I want to be your lover. I can't pretend I don't want more. I want to be with you, Autumn. I want to get you naked and throw your legs over my shoulders"
She dropped the pen.
"I want to leave a mark on the inside of your thigh. ~ Rachel Gibson

Life," said Marvin dolefully, "loathe it or ignore it, you can't like it. ~ Douglas Adams

Never trust a man who carries a handkerchief, I always say. One of many prejudicial rules of thumb. ~ Haruki Murakami

That's a dead flower she'd holding. How's it gonna look cute?" Flash glanced back again and shook his head. "Man, it's beyond dead. I've got Legos with more life than that plant."
"That's why everyone calls Emily Black Thumb, because she somehow kills every plant she gets. ~ Vonnie Davis

Trillian did a little research in the ship's copy of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. It had some advice to offer on drunkenness.
"Go to it," it said, "and good luck. ~ Douglas Adams

Sugar, you've got so much heat locked inside, you make Mount St. Helens look weak." He dragged his thumb across her lower lip, and her tongue darted out for a taste on instinct. His lips twitched as though she'd just proven his point. "I wanna be there when it goes off. ~ Rhenna Morgan

I've heard men complain of doing woman's work, and women complain of doing man's work," she added, fastening her bony thumb and forefinger on Gurgi's ear and marching him to a stool beside Taran, "but I've never heard the work complain of who did it, so long as it got done! ~ Lloyd Alexander

Digging

Between my finger and my thumb
The squat pen rests; snug as a gun.

Under my window, a clean rasping sound
When the spade sinks into gravelly ground:
My father, digging. I look down

Till his straining rump among the flowerbeds
Bends low, comes up twenty years away
Stooping in rhythm through potato drills
Where he was digging.

The coarse boot nestled on the lug, the shaft
Against the inside knee was levered firmly.
He rooted out tall tops, buried the bright edge deep
To scatter new potatoes that we picked,
Loving their cool hardness in our hands.

By God, the old man could handle a spade.
Just like his old man.

My grandfather cut more turf in a day
Than any other man on Toner's bog.
Once I carried him milk in a bottle
Corked sloppily with paper. He straightened up
To drink it, then fell to right away
Nicking and slicing neatly, heaving sods
Over his shoulder, going down and down
For the good turf. Digging.

The cold smell of potato mould, the squelch and slap
Of soggy peat, the curt cuts of an edge
Through living roots awaken in my head.
But I've no spade to follow men like them.

Between my finger and my thumb
The squat pen rests.
I'll dig with it. ~ Seamus Heaney

My rule of thumb is that if I am interested or intrigued by something, others will be as well. ~ Wolf Blitzer

When they reached the peak, he faced her, gathered her to him, and gazed into her amazing blue eyes. "You look beautiful," he said huskily, surprising himself with his tone. He swept his fingers along the top of her shoulder and cupped his hand on her neck, caressing her velvety earlobe with the pad of his thumb. "You put this awesome sunset to shame. ~ Tracy March

No, you're not getting exhausted yet, Garraty." [Stebbins] jerked a thumb at Olson's silhouette. "That's exhausted. He's almost through now."

Garraty watched Olson, fascinated, almost expecting him to drop at Stebbins's word. "What are you driving at?"

"Ask your cracker friend, Art Baker. A mule doesn't like to plow. But he likes carrots. So you hang a carrot in front of his eyes. A mule without a carrot gets exhausted. A mule with a carrot spends a long time being tired. You get it?"

"No."

Stebbins smiled again. "You will. Watch Olson. He lost his appetite for the carrot. He doesn't quite know it yet, but he has. Watch Olson, Garraty. You can learn from Olson."

Garraty looked at Stebbins closely, not sure how seriously to take him. Stebbins laughed aloud. His laugh was rich and full-a startling sound that made other Walkers turn their heads. "Go on. Go talk to him, Garraty. And if he won't talk, just get up close and have a good look. It's never too late to learn. ~ Stephen King

Here's a rule of thumb for networking events: one new honest-to-goodness relationship is worth ten fistfuls of business cards. Rush home afterward and kick back on your sofa. Carve out restorative niches. ~ Susan Cain

While he himself puts them on, like a sock over a foot, onto the stub of himself, his extra, sensitive thumb, his tentacle, his delicate, stalked slug's eye, which extrudes, expands, winces, and shrivels back into himself when touched wrongly, grows big again, bulging a little at the tip, traveling forward as if along a leaf, into them, avid for vision. ~ Margaret Atwood

I've always had this rule of thumb: If you have fun making it, then someone will have fun watching it. ~ Antony Starr

His eyes turn dark and serious. "You couldn't be more wrong. I want you so fucking badly that I can't see straight. I haven't been able to since the moment I laid eyes on you. That's the fucking problem. You think I wanted her more than I do you? I didn't want her at all. I wanted you then and every day before and every day since. All I want is you. I was holding back just now - and trust me, it's been taking every ounce of strength I have to do so - because you deserve better than me feeling you up in an elevator." He runs his thumb over my lower lip, his eyes darkening further. ~ Samantha Towle

You know," a low voice drawls as a warm hand squeezes my shoulder. "There's time to feed the kitty before we get dressed for the big day." He's so near that parts of me tingle even in my outrage. "Blake," I say, my voice almost a whisper. "Yes," he breathes beside my ear. "I don't have a cat." He lets out a sexy rumble, his thumb trailing down my arm. And it's then that I realize feed the kitty means… "We aren't feeding the kitty or hiding the salami or anything else you can think of to call it. We're just not. There will be no repeats this weekend." He reaches beneath my wet hair and cups the back of my head, his long fingers trailing across my skull. Goosebumps break out all over my body. "Never say never, J-Babe. ~ Sarina Bowen

Somehow she willed enough strength back into her knees to satisfy him, and she moaned as he began to thrust more powerfully and deeply than ever before. Each inward drive was a sensuous jolt, lifting her heels from the floor. She breathed and sweated and pushed back at him, the feelings rising thickly to a crescendo. The repeated wet impacts of their flesh embarrassed and excited her, and there was nothing she could do about any of it; she had lost all hope of control. One of his hands slid to the triangle between her thighs, caressing her pulsing flesh, while the other went to her breast and clamped the nipple gently between his thumb and finger.
That was all she needed. She pressed her clenched fists against the door and cried out repeatedly, in ecstasy that sounded like anguish. Satisfaction rushed and ebbed, back and forth, in heavy waves that soon broke into shudders. She really couldn't stand then, her limbs quaking, and he picked her up and carried her into the bedroom.
Before her body had even settled completely on the bed, he was in her again, thrusting almost savagely, reaching beneath her hips to pull her up into each plunge. ~ Lisa Kleypas

Do you realize the FBI filing system from the '50s was much more secure? How could you have stolen that data? It was on notecards. Now someone with a thumb drive, or remotely, can take the equivalent of millions of those notecards. ~ Rick Smolan

A good rule of thumb is that any environment that consistently leaves you feeling bad about who you are is the wrong environment. ~ Laurie A. Helgoe

At twenty-one, Richard Wright was not the world-famous author he would eventually be. But poor and black, he decided he would read and no one could stop him. Did he storm the library and make a scene? No, not in the Jim Crow South he didn't. Instead, he forged a note that said, "Dear Madam: Will you please let this nigger boy have some books by HL Mencken?" (because no one would write that about themselves, right?), and checked them out with a stolen library card, pretending they were for someone else. With the stakes this high, you better be willing to bend the rules or do something desperate or crazy. To thumb your nose at the authorities and say: What? This is not a bridge. I don't know what you're talking about. Or, in some cases, giving the middle finger to the people trying to hold you down and blowing right through their evil, disgusting rules. Pragmatism is not so much realism as flexibility. ~ Ryan Holiday

I know what I want for a souvenir," he said.
"Yeah?"
He took her wrist and brushed a thumb over the delicate skin there. "Let's get matching tattoos, so we never, ever, forget this day."
Her lips parted in a gasp of delight. "That's a great idea!"
"Really? So you'll come with me?"
"Of course I will," she said. "Let's hurry before we change our minds. ~ Melissa Landers

Aspiring authors, get this through your head. Cover art serves one purpose, and one purpose only, to get potential customers interested long enough to pick up the book to read the back cover blurb. In the internet age that means the thumb nail image needs to be interesting enough to click on. That's what covers are for. ~ Larry Correia