Jacket Quotes

...if the United States never intended to help, it shouldn't have built up the expectation. The false promise of help was cruel and inexcusable and it would only get worse over time. If a man is drowning and a boat drives past in the distance, the man accepts his death and goes down quietly. If a man is drowning and a boat pulls up beside him, dangles a life jacket, tells the world he wants to help, but then doesn't throw the life jacket, the drowning man dies crying and his family might take a blood oath to take revenge on the boat's crew. This type of anger was already starting to build in Syria and al-Qaeda would capitalize on it. ~ Richard Engel

That turned-up collar. The jacket that zipped all the way down the front into a nice fitted shape. The white denim that made my untanned skin look like a color. ~ Tina Fey

Once, I had to clip a jacket back to take a picture, and after they were done I forgot to remove the clip until someone noticed. ~ Shay Mitchell

My chest clenched as I looked down at the oil-stained asphalt. Here but not. Existing but not living. I knew that feeling. Lived it for several years. Some days it felt like I was still wearing that feeling like a heavy jacket buttoned up too tightly. ~ Jennifer L. Armentrout

Every few days the sea delivers us gifts, and I am convinced that there is something of the divine nature in this process. Often I have prayed for a jacket, a bucket, or a handsaw, but instead I find one single flip-flop. Many times it has left my heart bitter, but then I find some useful purpose for my found treasure. Maybe the sea doesn't give me what I want, but what I need. ~ Jennifer Arnett

My favorite leather jacket I got for 40 bucks at the Fairfax Flea Market, like, eight years ago. Leather just gets better over time. There's something about a jacket that you have over years and years - just fits like a glove. ~ Jack Falahee

Longing was a feeling that was hard to live with. It didn't ask permission. It didn't pay attention to time or place. It was overwhelming and demanding, grasping and selfish. It clouded thoughts or made them too bright, too sharp. Longing demanded unconditional surrender. Lumikki tried to fight it and failed. She didn't want to long and yet she longed. She didn't want to remember, and yet her dreams and her body remembered, reminding her constantly.
The longing was physical. It was dizziness. It was a seizing in her belly. It was the need to wrap her arms around herself alone in bed when there was no one else to do it for her. She felt the longing in her fingertips that yearned to stroke, to touch, to caress. The longing made her fingers restless, fiddling with the zipper of her jacket, the strings in her hoodie, fidgeting with whatever little thing happened to her hand. The longing made her teeth bite into her lower lip, leaving it chipped and almost bleeding. She knew she was being stupid. She knew her longing was pointless. ~ Salla Simukka

And so I make my way across the room steadily, carefully. Hands shaking, I pull the string, lifting my blinds. They rise slowly, drawing more moonlight into the room with every inch
And there he is, crouched low on the roof. Same leather jacket. The hair is his, the cheekbones, the perfect nose . . . the eyes: dark and mysterious . . . full of secrets. . . . My heart flutters, body light. I reach out to touch him, thinking he might disappear, my fingers disrupted by the windowpane.
On the other side, Parker lifts his hand and mouths:
"Hi."
I mouth "Hi" back.
He holds up a single finger, signalling me to hold on. He picks up a spiral-bound notebook and flips open the cover, turning the first page to me. I recognize his neat, block print instantly: bold, black Sharpie. I know this is unexpected . . . , I read. He flips the page.
. . . and strange . . .
I lift an eyebrow.
. . . but please hear read me out.
He flips to the next page.
I know I told you I never lied . . .
. . . but that was (obviously) the biggest lie of all. The truth is: I'm a liar.
I lied.
I lied to myself . . .
. . . and to you.
Parker watches as I read. Our eyes meet, and he flips the page.
But only because I had to.
I wasn't supposed to fall in love with you, Jaden . . .
. . . but it happened anyway.
I clear my throat, and swallow hard, but it's squeezed shut again, tight.
And it gets worse.
Not only am I ~ Katie Klein

Only the untouched, the well-fed and contented, could possibly covet suffering like a designer jacket. ~ Lionel Shriver

The lapels of Sprat's many-buckled jacket were covered with buttons. Most of them belonged to bands, but a few were pretty funny. Like the one that read 'MY FAMILY'S A FREAKSHOW WITHOUT A TENT' and the one that boldly proclaimed 'I (HEART) BEING AWESOME'. Vlad pointed to the one that read 'I'M SO GOTH PEOPLE ASK ME TO AUTOGRAPH BOXES OF COUNT CHOCULA' and smirked. ~ Heather Brewer

He leaned back against the Jeep and smiled. "More orders for your CEO, Madam President?"
Her eyes were huge and solemn with concern. "I want you to be very careful tonight."
"I will," he promised.
"Joel, I love you. You know that, don't you?"
For an instant he was stunned at the admission. Then elation soared in him. For the moment, at least, it blotted out all the other things he had been
feeling since he'd walked into his apartment and seen the evidence of Victor Copeland's ungovernable rage. He reached for Letty.
"Damn, Letty," he muttered thickly, "you've picked a fine time to tell me." He pulled her into his arms, fumbling for the feel of her through the plump
layers of her Thornquist Gear down coat. "You know I love you, too, don't you?"
"Well, you hadn't actually said so," she reminded him. The comment was tart, but her eyes were brimming with delight. "However, I have been
extremely optimistic."
"Don't ever forget it." He kissed her mouth, the only part of her that was not swallowed up by her voluminous jacket. Her lips were warm in spite of
the cold air. Joel groaned and pulled her closer. ~ Jayne Ann Krentz

I am happy; I am in his arms, my face crushed against his padded jacket, his arms around me as tight as a bear, so that I cannot breathe. When I look up into his beloved weary face, he kisses me so hard that I close my eyes and think myself a besotted girl again. I catch a breath, and he kisses me some more. ~ Philippa Gregory

Aaron reached into his jacket pocket and took out his Bible, a gift from his father, Captain Benjamin K. Matthews, on the the day he had ridden off to war. Aaron opened to the Psalms, intending to read, but his eyes were heavy and closed against his will. O death, where is thy sting? Pastor Blackwell had told him that death had no power over him, but he sure felt that sting now. O grave, where is thy victory? How much longer would it be? Just four miles from home. Would Mama ever know?
Shiloh, the place of peace. Good ground to die on. Holy ground. ~ Karl A. Bacon

Under his buckskin riding-coat he wore a black vest and the cravat and collar of a churchman. A young priest, at his devotions; and a priest in a thousand, one knew at a glance. His bowed head was not that of an ordinary man, - it was built for the seat of a fine intelligence. His brow was open, generous, reflective, his features handsome and somewhat severe. There was a singular elegance about the hands below the fringed cuffs of the buckskin jacket. Everything showed him to be a man of gentle birth - brave, sensitive, courteous. His manners, even when he was alone in the desert, were distinguished. He had a kind of courtesy toward himself, toward his beasts, toward the juniper tree before which he knelt, and the God whom he was addressing. ~ Willa Cather

She was beautiful and lithe, with soft skin the color of bread and eyes like green almonds, and she had straight black hair that reached to her shoulders, and an aura of antiquity that could just as well have been Indonesian as Andean. She was dressed with subtle taste: a lynx jacket, a raw silk blouse with very delicate flowers, natural linen trousers, and shoes with a narrow stripe the color of bougainvillea. 'This is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen,' I thought, when I saw her pass by with the stealthy stride of a lioness, while I waited in the check-in line at Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris for the plane to New York. ~ Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Curran's eyes went gold. His voice dropped into a rough growl. "If you're going to shoot, make sure to empty the clip, because after you're done, I'll shove that gun up your ass sideways."
Blue Jacket blinked.
"Can you even do that?" I asked.
"Let's find out." Curran stared at the thug. "Well? Shoot, so we can start this experiment. ~ Ilona Andrews

Love is like a game of chess. You're white. He's black. You wait for him to make a move, while staring into his handsome, melting-you-on-the-inside eyes, then realize what a dummy he is to not tell you straight out to go first. The beginning is the crush stage. You begin to realize how much you want to defeat him, or make him fall in love with you. By the time you get to the heat of the game, you both moved and are hopefully dating. If you haven't forfeit then because you don't want to be cheated on, you make another move- head on shoulder, hand holding, etc. Black makes another move-he gives you his jacket on a freezing night. By the endgame, he either realizes how stupid he was to play with you and forfeits, or he realizes how smart you are and lets you defeat him (and love you). By the time you win, you're married to him. A happily ever after game of chess. ~ Amrita Ramanathan

I bring a poofy gray down jacket with me wherever I go. It's meant for winter, but I use it most in the summer, when everyone cranks up the air-conditioning. ~ Leslie Mann

He set the helmet on the floor beside the door and slung his jacket over the back of one chair. He tilted his head sideways to look at her, one eyebrow raised. "I'm not going to ask why. I'm going to make assumptions. ~ Paula Altenburg

..she reached invisible hands to try him on. And found the warm jacket of his simplest self fit her perfectly. She pulled it close around her shoulders, drew her hair out from beneath its collar. "I like you," she whispered, lost in his eyes. You fit me, she thought. ~ Suanne Laqueur

'Well,' said Red Jacket [to someone complaining that he had not enough time], 'I suppose you have all there is.' ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

I still love books. Nothing a computer can do can compare to a book. You can't really put a book on the Internet. Three companies have offered to put books by me on the Net, and I said, 'If you can make something that has a nice jacket, nice paper with that nice smell, then we'll talk.' All the computer can give you is a manuscript. People don't want to read manuscripts. They want to read books. Books smell good. They look good. You can press it to your bosom. You can carry it in your pocket. ~ Ray Bradbury

All her focus was on the burning want Ronin was evoking in her as he pressed her back up against a pine. The rough bark sharply poked its way through her light jacket, digging into her skin, and the odd pain pushed her to increase the force of her kiss as she clawed at his back. His grip on her ass tightened, and Ronin groaned down her throat. ~ Sibylla Matilde

Nice girl. Wears too much makeup."
"Most chicks hate her."
"Most chicks wish they looked like her. And they wish they had her money and boyfriend."
I stop and regard her in disgust. "Burro Face?"
"Oh, please, Alex. Colin Adams is cute, he's the captain of the football team and Fairfield's hero. You're like Danny Zuko in Grease. You smoke, you're in a gang, and you've dated the hottest bad girls around. Brittany is like Sandy ... a Sandy who'll never show up to school in a black leather jacket with a ciggie hangin' from her mouth. Give up the fantasy. ~ Simone Elkeles

Let's get you to your wedding, princess."
"I'll make sure Rowen tosses the bouquet your way, sweetie," Jesse said, adjusting his tie before buttoning his jacket.
"Bite me, Walker."
He grinned at me. "Love you too, Black. ~ Nicole Williams

Out there in the middle of the maelstrom the Eater awaits, heaving and gulping, its mouth like a giant clam's . . . its mind a frenzy of beige-colored rapid foam. A horrifying uproar, all things considered. Imagine floating through that nonsense in a life jacket. - EDWARD ABBEY ~ Kevin Fedarko

It was one of the great pleasures of the age, to be safe and warm and dry - showered, deodorized, professionally clothed in espadrilles and a linen jacket, latte steaming up the radio display, taking in the world's troubles three minutes at a time. That was luxury. ~ Jess Row

The question is which one of us is the frog and which is the toad,' Willem had said after they'd first seen the show, in JB's studio, and read the kindhearted books to each other late that night, laughing helplessly as they did.
He'd smiled; they had been lying in bed. 'Obviously, I'm the toad,' he said.
'No,' Willem said, 'I think you're the frog; your eyes are the same color as his skin.'
Willem sounded so serious that he grinned. 'That's your evidence?' he asked. 'And so what do you have in common with the toad?'
'I think I actually have a jacket like the one he has,' Willem said, and they began laughing again. ~ Hanya Yanagihara

It's what a man does when he likes a lass. Puts on a jacket. Puts a shine on his shoes. Asks her to dinner. ~ Kate Quinn

Everything is a matter of interpretation. And that is how you will rule," he said, before handing the sword's hilt to me. "Think on what you've seen today. But do not let me influence you. Your will is yours alone."
I stared at the sword in my hand, still gleaming despite the dark. "I can promise you I won't forget."
Amar paused, his voice soft. "Memory is a riddled thing. I would caution you from making promises you cannot keep."
I moved toward the door, but Amar stopped me with a shake of his head. "Gupta will arrive in a moment to escort you." He straightened the cuffs of his sherwani jacket. "I myself have a number of duties to attend to, so I must leave."
Before I could stop myself, I blurted out, "Why?"
He paused and took a step to me. Darkness, soft-edged and heavy, clung to the room. In the shadows, his smile held all the lazy grace of a cat.
"Would you miss me?"
"Curiosity inspired my question. Nothing more," I said, but even my voice was unconvinced.
"Even so, there's no greater temptation than to stay by your side."
The door swung open and a chorus of voices trickled into the room--silvery and indistinct, like whispers released through clenched teeth. Amar lingered for a moment, his lips tight as though he wanted to say something.
Then, he cupped his palms together and blew into them. When he opened his hands, a bloom of light shaped like an unopened flower bud lifted off his palm and floated into the room. Brightne ~ Roshani Chokshi

I faced Cole and Max. "Sorry, guys."
I lightly touched the hot poker to Max's back. he screamed and ran forward. Cole looked at him with an amused smile on his lips, then I did the same thing to Cole's back, angling it under the hem of his jacket. He lurched forward.
We ran this way for several long minutes, and eventually I didn't have to prod them as much. ~ Brodi Ashton

Lonny finishes his drink and stands. "So what's our plan?"

"You don't have to go," I tell him, shrugging out of Carmindor's jacket. "I'm sort of going AWOL, so it's not in your contract."

"Then as far as I'm concerned, I'm off the clock," he says, straightening his suit. "I can do whatever I want with my time, and I want to help you out. So what's the plan?"

"First," I say, "to the vending machines. With all this good luck, they gotta have an Orange Crush."

And holy gods of soda, Batman, by the glowing light of the great vending machines on the third floor, I spot a beautiful Orange Crush button, and when I push it an orange bottle rolls out. I crack the seal and drink to the sweet, sweet taste of victory.

"That's your plan?" Lonny says. "To drink a soda? ~ Ashley Poston

Old Tom Bombadil is a merry fellow,
Bright blue his jacket is, and his boots are yellow.
None has ever caught him yet, for Tom, he is the Master:
His songs are stronger songs, and his feet are faster. ~ J.R.R. Tolkien

And I, you, and he; and we, ye, and they, are all bats; and I'm a crow, especially when I stand a'top of this pine tree here. Caw! caw! caw! caw! caw! caw! Ain't I a crow? And where's the scare-crow? There he stands; two bones stuck into a pair of old trowsers, and two more poked into the sleeves of an old jacket. ~ Herman Melville

Now, since we've gone ahead and acknowledged that we're about to die, how about some end-of-the-world sex? If we're going out, we should go out with a bang and a really good orgasm."

Meg pointedly zipped up her jacket. "You're worried Beck and Ci will be upset if you send me in alone, but you think they'll be okay with a little infidelity?"

"It's for a good cause," Dante explained innocently. "Besides, if they don't understand and we happen to survive and they happen to survive, then the ass-kicking I get will be totally worth it. And if you do anal, that would make my death so much more meaningful. ~ Sophie Oak

I excused myself from the conversation, walked away, and stuck my hands in my jacket pockets. I had no drink. I didn't fidget. I kept my head down and headed for the door. It wasn't that far. I just had to get by some people who wouldn't suspect a thing, because I didn't know any of them. I didn't have to grab my coat because it was still on my shoulders. If Shawn saw me, I would say I was just going for air or a smoke or something. I had been trying to quit, and he knew this, so maybe going out for air was a better excuse. Sure, it was probably eleven below, but it was crowded and he'd buy it because I'd made him believe that I'm shy. I could be out in the midnight winter chill and home within an hour. It would have been safe, and I would have been warm, and no Chinook would have hit me. ~ Sawyer Paul

I might wear a dinner jacket once a year to our Oscar party - that's a big thing - but I don't go to parties. I'm social but I'm not a socialite person. ~ Graydon Carter

I throw a leather biker jacket over everything. It adds an instant downtown cool vibe and stops a look becoming too girlie. Bonus points if you wear it like a cape! ~ Ashley Madekwe

Tim bid us good-bye after helping us carry in my three-hundred-pound suitcase, and Marlboro Man and I looked around our quiet house, which was spick-and-span and smelled of fresh paint and leather cowboy boots, which lined the wall near the front door. The entry glowed with the light of the setting sun coming in the window, and I reached down to grab one of my bags so I could carry it to the bedroom. But before my hand made it to the handle, Marlboro Man grabbed me tightly around the waist and carried me over to the leather sofa, where we fell together in a tired heap of jet lag, emotional exhaustion, and--ironically, given the week we'd just endured--a sudden burst of lust.
"Welcome home," he said, nuzzling his face into my neck. Mmmm. This was a familiar feeling.
"Thank you," I said, closing my eyes and savoring every second. As his lips made their way across my neck, I could hear the sweet and reassuring sound of cows in the pasture east of our house. We were home.
"You feel so good," he said, moving his hands to the zipper of my casual black jacket.
"You do, too," I said, stroking the back of his closely cut hair as his arms wrapped more and more tightly around my waist. "But…uh…" I paused.
My black jacket was by now on the floor.
"I…uh…," I continued. "I think I need to take a shower." And I did. I couldn't do the precise calculation of what it had meant for my hygiene to cross back over the international date line, but as far as I was conce ~ Ree Drummond

If I'm uncomfortable on stage, everybody can see it. I'm not very good at hiding it. I like long, loose jacket dresses - anything that I can literally have room to move in - not that I'm a very big dancer, but because sometimes I'm sitting down at the keyboard, and then sometimes I'm standing. It just has to feel good. ~ Laura Mvula

I'm a Hollywood writer, so I put on my sports jacket and take off my brain. ~ Ben Hecht

It was a denim jacket. With this cover in place, Mouse hastily got his pants back in order. Instead of a teacher, as he'd expected, the new kid, Beckett Taylor, had bestowed dignity upon him. ~ Debra Anastasia

Thought I saw you on the beach this morning...Thought I saw you standing on the white strand, your back to the wind. The rain had stopped and there was a brisk clarity in the air. You watched me over your left shoulder, head tucked in coyly. Seabirds flying low in the sky, and the grey-green waves at your foot. A whole panorama thrown up behind you.

I was on the coast road coming back from the shops. I stopped walking once I caught sight of you. You were wearing a reefer jacket with the collar turned up against the weather. It might have been navy, but it looked black in the distance. As did your trousers. As did your shoes. All of you was black except your face and hair. You wore no hat...Never once saw you in Winter clothes, yet there you were as clear as day for a whole moment. Only your eyes were visible above the upturned collar. Your hair was in your eyes. You watched me through those pale strands. And I watched you. Intently.

The man from down the road drove by in his faded red car. He was going the other way, so he didn't offer a lift. He just waved. I waved back. And then I turned to you again, and we looked at each other a little longer. Very calm. Heart barely shifted. Too far away to see your features. No matter. There was salt on your face. Sea salt. It was in your hair. It was on your mouth. It was all over you, as though you gazed at me through ice. And it was all over me. It tingled on my skin.

After a time I moved off, and you ~ Claire Kilroy

She can't afford to commit more troops,' Holly whispered. 'The gate is her priority, and she needs to have as many Berserkers watching her back as possible. We are secondary at this point.'
'That will be her undoing,' Artemis gasped, already suffering under the weight of the flak jacket. 'Artemis Fowl will never be secondary.'
'I thought you were Artemis Fowl the Second?' said Holly. ~ Eoin Colfer

Tell me!" Cecily insisted later, shaking Colby by both arms.
"Cut it out, you'll dismember me," Colby said, chuckling.
She let go of the artificial arm and wrapped both hands around the good one. "I want to know. Listen, this is my covert operation. You're just a stand-in!"
"I promised I wouldn't tell."
"You promised in Lakota. Tell me in English what you promised in Lakota."
He gave in. He did tell her, but not Leta, what was said, but only about the men coming to the reservation soon.
"We'll need the license plate number," she said. "It can be traced.
"Oh, of course," he said facetiously. "They'll certainly come here with their own license plate on the car so that everyone knows who they are!"
"Damn!"
He chuckled at her irritation. He was about to tell her about his alternative method when a big sport utility vehicle came flying down the dirt road and pulled up right in front of Leta's small house.
Tate Winthrop got out, wearing jeans and a buckskin jacket and sunglasses. His thick hair fell around his shoulders and down his back like a straight black silk curtain. Cecily stared at it with curious fascination. In all the years she'd known him, she'd very rarely seen his hair down.
"All you need is the war paint," Colby said in a resigned tone. He turned the uninjured cheek toward the newcomer. "Go ahead. I like matching scars."
Tate took off the dark glasses and looked from Cecily to Colby without smiling. "Holden ~ Diana Palmer

She gasps at the sight that greets her.

The florists have gone to town. There are wild meadow flowers everywhere, in pinks and whites and blues, all lit by tiny fairy lights and soft pink lanterns.

Yes. This will do.

Ana is stunned. She whips around and gapes at me.

"You wanted hearts and flowers."

She stares at me in disbelief.

"You have my heart." And I wave at the room.

"And here are the flowers," she murmurs. "Christian, it's lovely." Her voice is hoarse and I know she's close to tears.

Plucking up my courage, I lead her farther into the room. In the center of the arbor, I sink onto one knee. Ana catches her breath, and her hands fly to her mouth. From my inside jacket pocket, I pull out the ring and hold it up for her.

"Anastasia Steele. I love you. I want to love, cherish, and protect you for the rest of my life. Be mine. Always. Share my life with me. Marry me."

She is the love of my life.

It will only ever be Ana.

Her tears start to fall in earnest but her smile eclipses the moon, the stars, the sun, and all the flowers in the boathouse. ~ E.L. James

Strait-jacket and chain-gang procedures had to be done away with if there was to a chance for growth of individuals in the intellectual springs of freedom without which there is no assurance of genuine and continued normal growth. ~ John Dewey

Jace laughed, that soft rich sound Clary loved so much. I'm warning you, that jacket is sexy. The Institute could go up in sexy, sexy flames. ~ Cassandra Clare

When Reiko left, I stretched out on the sofa and closed my eyes. I lay there steeping myself into silence when, out of nowhere, I thought of the time Kizuki and I took a motorcycle trip. That had been autumn too, I realized. Autumn how many years ago? Yes, four years ago. I recalled the small of Kizuki's leather jacket and the racket made by that red Yamaha 125cc bike. We went to a spot far down the coast, and came back the same evening, exhausted. Nothing special happened on that trip, but I remembered it well. the sharp autumn wind moaned in my ears, and looking up at the sky, my hands clutching Kizuki's jacket, I felt as if I might be swept into outer space. ~ Haruki Murakami

But what have Cortes and Pizarro or the others to do with me?

You carry them in your blood as I carry the blood of Montezume; expeditions of them are harbored by your heart and your mind carries their supply trains. You've changed your helmet for a frontier hat while I have changed my robes for overalls and a black leather jacket. The costumes may have changed but the blood is still the same, gringo. ~ Ishmael Reed

as might have been expected, in the dinner-jacket he had worn on the previous evening. His explanation was characteristic. 'Most extraordinary,' he said, in his slightly high-pitched voice. ~ Margery Allingham

Jamie let go of me. "Shut your mucky gob, man." He stepped close to our fearless leader in the dark, took hold of his jacket by the collar, and in a dead quiet voice that had gone dangerously Scots, threatened heatedly, "Talk like that again wi' these brave lassies listenin' an' Ah'll tear the filthy English tongue frae yer heid, so Ah will. ~ Elizabeth Wein

Livia located her fancy jacket and stepped out of the closet. Blake took the coat from her and held it out in an old-fashioned ritual only he could get away with. He moved Livia's hair out of the way and kissed her neck as he buttoned each of her buttons from behind her. He skimmed parts of her she wished he would linger on. She turned her head to claim his lips.
They kissed until he stepped back and shook his head, as if to clear it. "I can only take so much of that with your bed so close. ~ Debra Anastasia

Nan Kempner wore one of the first Saint Laurent trouser suits to one of those fancy Madison Avenue restaurants and was denied access. She famously took off her pants and walked in wearing only the jacket. And it was that kind of revolution that was echoed in fashion and in life. ~ Suzy Menkes

And the second [thing about the CBS EVENING NEWS that stands out in the mind of Michael J. Fox] was something Katie did later in the interview, as the drugs kicked in and the tremors segued into the jerkiness of dyskinesias. Somewhere in the contortions of making a point, my left arm detached the microphone clip from my jacket lapel. With no fuss and hardly a break in conversation or eye contact, she calmly leaned over and refastened it. Neither of us commented on it, but it was such an empathetic gesture, so far from anything patronizing or pitying, a simple kindness that allowed me the dignity to carry on making a point more important than the superficiality of my physical circumstance ...
... One thing was abundantly clear though, whether or not she was able to forget how much she liked me: with that single act of consideration, she made it abundantly clear how much she loved her father. ~ Michael J. Fox

He reached into his jacket pocket. Over the years, people had often commented on his ability to produce exactly the right item from his pockets at exactly the right time. Some had speculated that his pockets were extensions of the TARDIS, others had guessed he was just lucky. But then, they'd never read Yeltstrom's Karma and Flares: The Importance of Fashion Sense to the Modern Zen Master.
They didn't appreciate the things a sentient life-form could achieve, if he was totally at one with the lining of his jacket. ~ Lawrence Miles

I was thinking recently, If the body really is the new dress, as some are saying - with women buying boobs, butts, faces - then who needs a dressmaker? So I started designing spring like a plastic surgeon - everything stretchy and nude. But after three weeks, I was so bored with myself and the world, I began adding diamond butterflies and chiffon and colors. I realized that fashion is not about second skin. It's not the perfect white shirt or camel jacket. What women need is a dream. ~ Alber Elbaz

It's the what if? The what then? And we know that if we go for it, if we risk it, we immediately stand to lose it. But weirdly, some part of us believes the feeling is two-way, because it must be; it's too special not to be. We believe that something's been shared, even if the evidence we have is ... what? A look that lasted a breath longer then we're used to? A second glance, when the glance could easily have been to check whether there are any cabs coming, or whether the jacket we're wearing that's caught their eyes would look good on their boyfriend, or why it is we seem to be staring at them.
I saw you. You don't use overhead handles on the train. Hoped it would jolt and you would fall to me. But no.
I smiled. These small moments, never said out loud, as formed and perfect as sweet little haikus, romance and longing carved out in the dust of a grubby city. ~ Danny Wallace

I squinted at the cue ball, then at the triangle of balls farther down the table.
"You're a tiny bit off," I said.
I felt him smile. "How much you want to bet?"
"Five dollars."
I felt him give a soft shake of his head.
"Your jacket."
"You want my jacket?"
"I want it off. ~ Becca Fitzpatrick

I encountered in the street a penniless young man who was in love. His hat was old and his jacket worn, with holes at the elbows; water soaked through his shoes, but starlight flooded through his soul. ~ Victor Hugo

Aphrodite took my snowboarding jacket," she muttered. "Mugged by my own mom." In the first row of the amphitheater, Jason found a blanket and wrapped it around her ~ Rick Riordan

She's here, Diana. Our little Tabby is here. Safe and sound."
Diana lifted her lashes and looked up at Colby. He was on his knees between her legs, holding his daughter in
Brandon's denim jacket. In the glare of the flashlight Brandon held, she could see the brilliant expression of triumph
and happiness in her husband's eyes.
"I love you, Diana."
"I love you, Colby." Diana relaxed. This time, she thought, Colby wasn't just practicing.
This time he meant it. ~ Jayne Ann Krentz

Quantin crept closer to the knoll. A pungent smell passed through his nostrils up into his brain. Attracted by the poppies' scarlet smears, he was about to take another step when he felt a hand on his elbow. A man in a poppy-red jacket, his pupils dilated, smiled warningly.
"No strangers allowed. Go away."
"I don't understand ... "
"Understanding is strictly forbidden. Even dreams have the right to dream. Isn't that so? Now go away. ~ Sigizmund Krzhizhanovsky

You can never want too much. That's how they silence us," I said. "They told us we were lucky to be in the penal colony instead of the aether. Lucky to be murdered with NiteKind, not the noose. Lucky to be alive, even if we weren't free. They told us to stop wanting more than what they gave us, because what they gave us was more than we deserved." I picked up my jacket. "You're not a prisoner any more, Arcturus." Warden looked at me in silence. I left him in that ruined hall with the music echoing above him. ~ Samantha Shannon

I'm one of those goobers who comes out of the polling place actually wearing the 'I VOTED' sticker on my jacket. ~ Mary Roach

Many years ago I sent an old, beloved jacket to a cleaner, the Sycamore Cleaners. It was a leather jacket covered in Guinness and blood and marmalade, one of those jobs ... and it came back with a little note pinned to it, and on the note it said, 'It distresses us to return work which is not perfect.' So that will do for me. That can go on my tombstone. ~ Peter O'Toole

The game I play is a very interesting one. It's imagination, in a tight straightjacket. ~ Richard Feynman

Well, you know, I don't really want to trade next year. I certainly enjoyed having the jacket put on me rather than putting it on. ~ Phil Mickelson

Through her jacket, I could feel her heartbeat. It made me happy to know she was alive, was real, was there. ~ Alex Flinn

All right,' Nico relented. 'Maybe a little …' He managed to take off his aviator jacket and wad it into a pillow before he keeled over and began to snore. ~ Rick Riordan

The woman was putting her purse in the drawer and settling down behind the desk, and I realized I had never seen her before in my life. Her face was as wrinkled as one of those forgotten apples you sometimes find in the pocket of last year's winter jacket.
Yes? she said, peering over her spectacles. They teach them to do that at the Royal Academy of Library Science. ~ Alan Bradley

That's about when it happens. Coming down the escalator from one Nord floor to the next we see Little Teena has commandeered the grand piano. He's busy busting out Bach to all the bewildered shoppers. Little Teena just doesn't look for Nordstromy sitting there, with his red hair slick up in a pompadour, his girth squeezing out between his black leather jacket and the lip of his jeans, gumball machine rings decorating every single one of his fingers. But it's hen he goes from Bach to Great Balls of Fire that we attract the attention of the Nordfuck's militia. ~ Lidia Yuknavitch

I've looked over what I wrote yesterday and I see it wasn't as clear as it should be. It's perfectly clear for any of us, I mean. But who knows? Maybe you unknown people who'll get my notes when the INTEGRAL brings them - maybe you've read the great book of civilization only up to the page our ancestors reached about 900 years ago. Maybe you don't even know the basics - like the Table of Hours, Personal Hours, Maternal Norm, Green Wall, Benefactor. It feels funny to me, and at the same time it's very hard to talk about all this. It's just as if a writer of the twentieth century, for instance, had to explain in his novel what he meant by "jacket" or "apartment" or "wife." Still, if his novel was translated for savages, there's no way he could write "jacket" without putting in a note.
...
But what of that? After man's tail fell off, it was probably some little while before he learned to shoo away the flies without a tail. I don't doubt that during that first time he probably missed his tail. But now - can you even imagine yourself with a tail? Or: Can you imagine yourself walking down the street naked - without your "jacket"? (Maybe you still run around in "jackets.") Well, it's the same here: I can't imagine a city that isn't girdled about with a Green Wall. I can't imagine a life that isn't clad in the numerical robes of the Table. ~ Yevgeny Zamyatin

Maddy's going to pop soon," Cooper said, finishing his beer and getting ready to head out. "Tucker is attached to her. It's pretty fucking adorable. The guy about wets his pants every time she makes any noise that might be labor pain."
"You'll be an uncle soon."
"I'm already an uncle," Cooper mumbled, sliding on his jacket. "I just can't hold the kid yet."
"You and Farah still planning on trying?"
"No planning. We're just trying now. She's off the pill. Whenever it happens, it'll be cool. Farah worries she'll suck at being a mom. Can you believe that shit?" Cooper asked as his dark eyes warmed at the thought of his wife. "The way she takes care of Sawyer and me and everyone else and she thinks she'll be a bad mom. These girls with their shit families get all fucked up in the head and no logic is going to fix it. They just need to face their fears and see how amazing they are when their idiot parents aren't around to fuck things up."
"Should I fix things for Lark?"
"I don't know. If it was me, I'd go smack her stupid brother and father around. I don't know if that'd be a good idea though. Those fucks aren't low life drifters like Farah's parents. That Larry asshole is a respectable member of the community. If you want to smack him around, you'll need to do it in a more subtle way. Of course, if he ever fucks with you, we can just remind Mister Upstanding how his kind doesn't run Ellsberg. It's us dirty biker types who keep his house from bur ~ Bijou Hunter

The screen blanked, then produced a book cover. The jacket image - in black-and-white - showed barking dogs surrounding a scarecrow. In the background, shoulders slumped in a posture of weariness or defeat (or both), was a hunter with a gun. The eponymous Cortland, probably. ~ Stephen King

Though Alec had never seen the occupants of the first floor loft, they seemed to be engaged in a tempestuous romance. Once there had been a bunch of someone's belongings strewn all over the landing with a note attached to a jacket lapel addressed to "A lying liar who lies." Right now there was a bouquet of flowers taped to the door with a card tucked among the blooms that read I'M SORRY. That was the thing about New York: you always knew more about your neighbors' business than you wanted to. ~ Cassandra Clare

The wise traveler [to Beirut] will pack shirts or blouses with ample breast pockets. Reaching inside a jacket for your passport looks too much like going for the draw and puts armed men out of countinence ~ P. J. O'Rourke

A simple leather jacket ... has gotten me through cocktail parties in New York and cold nights in Afghanistan. ~ Ronan Farrow

None of them knowing that that was Rez hunched down in there, under a jacket, but maybe sensing it somehow. And something in Chia letting her know she'd never quite be like that again. Never as comfortably a face in that crowd. Because now she knew there were rooms they never saw, or even dreamed of, where crazy things, or even just boring things, happened, and that was where the stars came from. ~ William Gibson

So, let's make a deal: If you do not voice all the withering comments about the weight or uselessness of this jacket that are no doubt swirling in that big brain of yours, then I will not mention the super-laser episode again. Agreed?"
This jacket is really cutting into my shoulders, thought Artemis. And it's so heavy that I could not outrun a slug.
But he said, "Agreed. ~ Eoin Colfer

Whoever decided that Indiana Jones should wear a felt hat and a leather jacket in the jungles should have been shot. ~ Harrison Ford

He bent down burying his face in my neck. I reached back to grab onto the iron bars behind me to hold myself up. My jacket slipped off my shoulders. I was pretty sure I was on fire and at that moment I would have sworn that bursting into flame was a glorious way to go. ~ Myra McEntire

Whenever I pick up a jacket and it's heavy, I think, 'Oh, I don't want to wear that.' ~ Sarah Burton

You can find, occasionally, some absolutely fantastic things in hunting shops. I've got one jacket that I just happened across which is a kind of unwashed leather - completely anonymous but absolutely special. ~ Norman Foster

When he sleeps,
the snoring does not bother me:
the rhythmic growl, gravel shoved
across the sidewalk of his throat.
It is the grasping, desperate way
in which he takes in air - his gulping lungs
as if every dream is filled with water
and he is trying to inflate
the life jacket under his skin.
I babble in my sleep. He believes
I am trying to tell him how my heart works,
says he will translate the manual one day.
I want to ask him: am I the ocean?
Are you drowning in everything
I don't say when I'm awake?
- Heart Apnea ~ Sierra DeMulder

Annabel was trying to hide her sword under her suit jacket without much success. People were staring ...
And then they weren't. There were no people, as if the whole town had forgotten as one that these streets and this square had ever existed. The deserted street they were racing down seemed darker than the busy street they had left, as if light was lost with memory, as if they were running into oblivion, and Mae didn't care as long as they got there in time. ~ Sarah Rees Brennan

jeans jacket, catching him in a chokehold, pistol at ~ Donna Tartt

Even the simplest things had a glorious pointlessness to them. When buttons came in, about 1650, people couldn't get enough of them and arrayed them in decorative profusion on the backs and collars and sleeves of coats, where they didn't actually do anything. One relic of this is the short row of pointless buttons that are still placed on the underside of jacket sleeves near the cuff. These have been purely decorative and have never had a purpose, yet 350 years later on we continue to attach them as if they are the most earnest necessity. ~ Bill Bryson

When my best friend came to say goodbye the day before I went into exile - we embraced thinking we would never see each other again because I would never be allowed to return to Romania and she would never be able to leave the country - we couldn't bear to let go of each other. She walked out of the door three times and returned each time. Only after the third time did she leave me, walking straight down the street. I could see her pale jacket getting smaller and smaller and, in a strange way, brighter and brighter the more distant it became. I don't know if it was the winter sunshine of that February day, or the tears making my eyes glisten, or perhaps her jacket was made of some shiny fabric, but one thing I know for sure: as I watched her walk away her back glittered like a silver spoon. In this way, intuitively, I was able to put our parting into words. And that is also the best description of that moment. But what does a silver spoon have to do with a jacket? Nothing at all. Nor does it have anything to do with parting. Yet as a poetic image the spoon and the jacket need one another.

That is why I am mistrustful of language. I know from my own experience that to be accurate, language must always usurp something that doesn't belong to it. I keep asking myself what makes verbal images such thieves, why the most apt comparison appropriates qualities that don't belong to it. To get closer to reality we need to catch the imagination unawares. Only when one percepti ~ Herta Muller

Plopbottle closed his eyes. Suddenly he wasn't a low-grade technician any more, he was Johnny Marino in Disco Night Fever. Confident, sophisticated, chic, and above all, not a goblin. He pointed down to the floor and up to the ceiling, he twirled his jacket round his head and spun on his heels. He hustled, he shimmied, he mash potatoed, he did the boogaloo. ~ Indigo Lane

I wish you wouldn't have given the sundial bracelet to Terease"

"Why?" I question and press my head onto his chest, pushing my arms back into his open jacket and around his back.

"If I had it to lead me to my deepest desire, I know it would always be a direct path to you. ~ Michelle Warren

As a girl, she was a legal prey, especially if she was dressed in a worn black leather jacket and had pierced eyebrows, tattoos, and zero social status. ~ Stieg Larsson

Ronan rummaged in his jacket pocket and removed a package of peanut butter crackers. He unwrapped one as the raven became suddenly attentive.
"Cracker," he said to her.
"Krek," she replied.
"Cracker," he repeated.
"Krek,"
"Cracker,"
"Kreker,"
He gave her one. "The other's if you get Opal. ~ Maggie Stiefvater

When a madman appears thoroughly sane, indeed, it is high time to put him in a straight jacket. ~ Edgar Allan Poe

At the tender age of 19 Bessie Stringfield commenced traveling across the United States. She'd toss a penny onto a map of the States and wherever it landed was where she'd go, and this was at the height of racism at its ugliest, yet this never stopped her. Though often denied accommodation because of the colour of her skin, she would find a place to sleep with black families or, if this wasn't possible, she'd simply sleep on her motorbike at filling stations, using her rolled up jacket as a pillow ~ Karl Wiggins

I have been an art director, a book designer, a book-jacket designer and an interior designer. ~ Milton Glaser

Astarte said the jacket reminded her of an ancient demon called The Judge, who separated the righteous from the wicked - and then burned the righteous. ~ R.E. Vance

She was just too curious to stay in a self-imposed mental straight-jacket for very long. ~ David Brooks

scrub oak trees. Kieran was leaning against him, pinning him to the tree, and they were kissing.

Cristina hesitated a moment, blood rising into her face, but it was clear Mark wasn't being touched against his will. Mark's hands were tangled in Kieran's hair, and he was kissing him as fiercely as if he were starving. Their bodies were pressed together tightly; nevertheless, Kieran clutched at Mark's waist, his hands moving restlessly, desperately, as if he could pull Mark closer still. They slid up, pushing Mark's jacket off his shoulders, stroking the skin at the edge of his collar. He made a low keening sound, like a cry of grief, deep in his throat, and broke away.

He was staring at Mark, his gaze as hungry as it was hopeless. Never had a faerie looked so human to Cristina as Kieran did then. Mark looked back at him, eyes wide, shining in the moonlight. A shared look of love and longing and terrible sadness. It was too much. It had already been too much: Cristina knew she shouldn't have been watching them but she hadn't been able to stop, mingled shock and fascination rooting her to the spot.

And desire. There was desire, too. Whether for Mark, or for both of them, or just for the idea of wanting someone so much, she wasn't sure. She moved back, her heart pounding, about to pull the ~ Cassandra Clare

It is time,my darling."
"Oh,Frankie,no-"
"You chose dare," he reminded her.
"I did," she agreed sadly, stepping up. "You're right."
It hadn't been entirely fair of him, starting the game in the middle of Neiman Marcus. The King of Prussia Mall, a zillion acres of retail-and-food-in-a-box, is many people's idea of perfect therapy. Me? If given the choice, I might opt for swimming with sharks instead. But today was about Frankie.
"So," he told her, "I pick out three outfits,head to toe. You put them on."
"Fine." Sadie pulled her jacket closer around her.This one was a muddy pruple, and had a third sleeve stitched tot he back. "But if you pick anything like that"- she pointed to a tiny tartan dress that seemed to be missing its entire back- "I will cry."
"Have faith," he replied with a slightly twisted smile, and dragged her toward women's sportswear. "What our sport is," he said apropos of very little save the sign on the wall, "I have no idea."
Ten minutes later, Sadie was heading into the dressing room with an armful of autumn color and a look like she was on her way off a cliff. ~ Melissa Jensen