Lounger Sofa Quotes

But dying is no easy trick. And suicide can't be put on a list of Things To Do in between cleaning the grill pan and leveling the sofa leg with a brick. It is the decision not to do, to un-do; a kiss blown at oblivion. No matter what anyone says, suicide takes guts. It is for heroes and martyrs, truly vainglorious men. ~ Zadie Smith

It was time to leave. He was insufferable, had toilet problems, looked demented to begin with, and now he was the accomplice to a cat killer. Yet did I leave? No, I sat there. And I thought, What has happened to me? Why am I not rising up off the sofa? Why am I not leaving? ~ Augusten Burroughs

I make no secret of the fact that I would rather lie on a sofa than sweep beneath it. ~ Shirley Conran

Like most geniuses, the Countess was a very limited person. Sigmund Freud was so ignorant of the art that Surrealist painters had to explain then- use of Freudian symbols over and over again, and he still didn't get it. Einstein never could remember to take the biscuits out of oven. Those same forces that drive a genius to create things or ideas that entertain or enlighten us often gobble so much of his personality that he has none left for the social graces (Should you invite Van Gogh to your home he might stand on your sofa in his muddy boots and pee where he pleased), and the very act of creation requires such focused concentration that vast areas of knowledge may be completely overlooked. Well, so what? There is no evidence that generalized skills are in any way superior to specialized brilliance, and certainly that sputter less little candle. Same of the mediocre mind known as "common sense" has never produced anything worth celebrating. ~ Tom Robbins

This bugs me the worst. That's when the husband thinks that the wife knows where everything is, huh? Like they think the uterus is a tracking device. He comes in: "Hey, Roseanne! Roseanne! Do we have any Cheetos left?" Like he can't go over and lift up the sofa cushion himself. ~ Roseanne Barr

If my wife made childhood obesity her mission and I signed a law making 1/8 cup of tomato paste a vegetable, I'd be sleeping on the sofa. ~ Alton Brown

What does that look like to you?" he said. "A forgery." He shrugged, snorted quietly. "That's right, Heller. We have teams of forgers at work creating phony documents just for you." His sarcasm was subtle. "Now do you see? Starting to recognize your brother's modus operandi? Steal a bunch of money, then, when you realize that you've messed with the wrong guys, do the cowardly thing and run? Wonder where he got that from." "Screw you." I no longer felt bad about making up that story about his cigars. "Oh, believe me, it's the truth. Maybe to Victor Heller's sons that's nothing more than loose change you find under your sofa cushions. But not to me. And certainly not to Allen Granger. ~ Joseph Finder

We may think the following a prime example of a response to a stimulus: I clap my hands, and the cat shies away, hiding under the sofa. The following is just as good an example: I throw the cat into the fire, and she burns to ashes.' The first is a life-process: it is something that plays a certain role in a cat's life. The second is not: it is a purely physical process which the cat undergoes. ~ Sebastian Rödl

So I decided to do it [hike the Appalachian Trail]. More rashly, I announced my intention - told friends and neighbors, confidently informed my publisher, made it common knowledge among those who knew me. Then I bought some books ... It required only a little light reading in adventure books and almost no imagination to envision circumstances in which I would find myself caught in a tightening circle of hunger-emboldened wolves, staggering and shredding clothes under an onslaught of pincered fire ants, or dumbly transfixed by the sight of enlivened undergrowth advancing towards me, like a torpedo through water, before being bowled backwards by a sofa-sized boar with cold beady eyes, a piercing squeal, and slaverous, chopping appetite for pink, plump, city-softened flesh. ~ Bill Bryson

Max: Okay. One day a little boy is sitting on the floor of his living room, playing with some toy trucks. Voom!He shoots one across the carpet, but it goes too far, to the other side of the sofa. And then miraculously, it shoots right back. Surprised, the little boy peers around the sofa to find a girl around his age with a very attractive bowl cut, building a giant Lego castle. She asks him if he wants to play, before popping one of the Legos in her mouth, informing him that if he's hungry, they are made out of chocolate. And the boy had never felt happy in his whole life. They build the most incredible chocolate castle, with dragons and soldiers and moat made of milk. And then they fell asleep side by side. The boy wakes up in his living room, and even though there is no castle or no little girl, he still feels just as happy. And he knows he will see her again.

Alice: Was that me?

Max: That was you. The first time we met. ~ Lucy Keating

I love you,' Rachael said. 'If I entered a room and found a sofa covered with your hide I'd score very high on the Voigt-Kampff test. ~ Philip K. Dick

He was drowned, he used to say, and lying on a cliff with gulls screaming over him. He would look over the edge of the sofa down into the sea. Or he was hearing music ... But "Lovely!" he used to cry and the tears would run down his cheeks, which was to her the most dreadful thing of all, to see a man like Septimus, who had fought, who was brave, crying. And he would lie listening until suddenly he would cry that he was falling down, down into the flames! ~ Virginia Woolf

Well, color me happy, a sofa for two. ~ Sydney Landon

Rhage glared over the top of the Caldwell Courier Journal. From his vantage point on V and Butch's leather sofa, he had more view than he wanted of a shirtless Lassiter playing with himself.
Foosball, that was.
The fallen angel was working V's table like a pro, flashing back and forth between the two sides - and hurling insults at himself.
"Question," Rhage muttered, as he rearranged his injured leg. "Are either of your personalities aware that you're schizo-freakin'-phrenic? ~ J.R. Ward

He whisked off her shoes and panties in one movement, wild like an enraged shark. His bulky totem beating a seductive rhythm. Mary's body felt like it was burning, even though the room was properly air-conditioned. They tried all the positions - on top, doggy, and normal.
Exhausted they collapsed onto the recently extended sofa-bed. Then a hell beast ate them. ~ Garth Marenghi

Always choose the adventure ... unless, it's chilly outside and there's a cup of warm coffee resting near a book and comfy sofa. ~ Barbara Brooke

And so, beginning with the small early frustrations and deprivations, the child is helped to govern himself. his ego develops by learning to regulate his own food intake and feces evacuation: he has to learn to adapt to a social schedule, to an external measure of time, in place of a biological schedule of internal urges. In all this he makes a bitter discovery: that he is no longer himself, just by seeking pleasure. There may be more excitement in the world but the fun keep getting interrupted. For some strange reason the mother doesn't share his glee over a bowel movement on the sofa. The child finds that he has to "earn" the mother's love by performing in a certain way. He comes to realize that he has to abandon the idea of "total excitement" and "uninterrupted fun," if he wants to keep a secure background of love from the mother. This is what Alfred Adler meant when he spoke of the child's need for affection as the "lever" of his education. The child learns to accept frustrations so long as the total relationship is not endangered. This is what the psychoanalytic word "ambivalence" so nicely covers: the child may hesitate between giving up what has previously been an assured satisfaction, and proceeding to a new type of conduct which will be rewarded by a new kind of acceptance. Does he want to keep the breast instead of switching to the bottle? He finds that if he makes this switch he gets a special cooing of praise and a little extra attention. Ambivalence describes the ~ Ernest Becker

My toes curled against the soft leather sofa pf my flip-flops and my throat felt scratchy as i forced the words out. "I'm ... I'm new."
There! I did it. I spoke.
Take that, everyone! Words were totally my bitch. ~ Jennifer L. Armentrout

She was stunned when he suddenly pushed off the sofa and knelt on one knee before her. "Libby, you have no cause to help me," he said in an earnest voice. "I have been nothing but trouble to you and your family, but does that mean we are destined to be enemies in all things? Because I think you are a woman of great quality. I watch you march into town armed with nothing but the strength of your compassion for a family in need. You are smart and courageous, and I find this very attractive. ~ Elizabeth Camden

I think literature totally fails when it has an agenda. - From an interview on the podcast Starship Sofa, December 2010. ~ Connie Willis

By the bye, as I must leave off being young, I find many douceurs in being a sort of chaperon , for I am put on the sofa near the fire and can drink as much wine as I like. ~ Jane Austen

Pity Matt didn't help him through a window instead of over a sofa," she grumbled. "He needs an attitude adjustment. ~ Diana Palmer

It's my husband. I think - I think he's a zombie."
I smiled. "Believe it or not, I get this one a lot. Can you describe his behavior? Why do you think he's a zombie?"
She huffed. "He doesn't do anything! He sits on the sofa all day watching TV and that's it. ~ Carrie Vaughn

Ah! what could we do but what we did! We sighed and fainted on the Sofa. ~ Jane Austen

So the question is, what can I do to motivate you, Polly?"

She eyes me salaciously and I drop my gaze, unable to return the intensity.
Gently, she uses one finger to lift my chin and make my eyes meet her own. They are a vivid blue and alive with desire for me. The air around us is charged and the tension is palpable. My soaking pussy is a testament to how much I already want her…

"Well?" she asks, breaking my train of thought. I gaze at her face; just a few inches from mine.

"I – I've never done this before…"

"Done what Polly?" Rachel chides, removing her finger.
I miss the contact immediately and am rueful to have upset her. She raises one eyebrow at me.

"Thought about what motivates you?" she asks, sardonically.

"I've never been like this… with a woman, I mean…"

She rises from the sofa in one fluid movement and stands above me.

"Kneel Polly."

Surprised by the order, I blink at her before I respond.

"Excuse me?"

Rachel smiles at me.

"Get. On. Your. Knees," she says, articulating each word, and pointing to the floor in front of her.
"I am going to find a way to motivate you. ~ Felicity Brandon

Once you've got a big feminist and political justification for talking about how you went round to Benedict Cumberbatch's house and did period all over his sofa, then there's no reason not to tell that anecdote in the middle of a dinner party. ~ Caitlin Moran

I get to sit at home with the dogs on the sofa, record in a closet in the office, send them off and, if I'm lucky, make a million dollars, ~ Sia Furler

Are you a relative of her late husband?" the woman asked.
His eyes widened. "I beg your pardon?"
"It must be so hard for her, pregnant and just widowed," the middle-aged woman continued. "We've all done what we could to make her happy here. Mr. Johnson, the curator, is a widower himself. He's already sweet on her. But you're probably anxious to see Mrs. Peterson. Shall I ring her and let her know you're coming?"
Tate's eyes were blazing. "No," he said with forced politeness. "I want to surprise her!"
He stalked out, leaving the rented vehicle where it was as he trudged through the small layer of snow and glared contemptuously at the cars sliding around in the street as they passed. This little bit of snow was nothing compared to the six-foot snowdrifts on the reservation. Southerners, he considered, must not get much winter precipitation if this little bit of white dust paralyzed traffic!
As for Cecily's mythical dead husband, he considered, going up the walkway to the small brick structure where she lived, he was about to make a startling, resurrected appearance!
He knocked on the door and waited.
There was an irritated murmur beyond the closed door and the sound of a lock being unfastened. The door opened and a wan Cecily looked straight into his eyes.
He managed to get inside the screen door and catch her before she passed out.
She came to on the sofa with Tate sitting beside her, smoothing back her disheveled hair. The nausea c ~ Diana Palmer

EVERYONE THOUGHT QUINN was watching Meet the Press with Grandma, even Grandma. Lying on the sofa, covered with an afghan, Quinn had simply rolled off and stuffed pillows under the covers while Grandma stared at the screen. Then she had sidled upstairs, out her bedroom window, and down the oak tree growing right by the house. ~ Luanne Rice

Her head jerked around. "It's so unlikely to be alive, isn't it? The right temperature, and gravity, the right atoms combining at the precise moment, you'd think it would never happen." She stood looking at a painting with a hand to her cheek, then watched the cat making its way across the sofa toward the bird. "Life, it's so unlikely," she said, then turned to me again. "It's so much better than we think, isn't it? ~ Andrew Sean Greer

And so that means ... "
"We have to rob the Henley," Simon said.
Kat sank onto a truly uncomfortable sofa. "Again. ~ Ally Carter

Look here, Watson; you look regularly done. Lie down there on the sofa, and see if I can put you to sleep."
He took up his violin from the corner, and as I stretched myself out he began to play some low, dreamy, melodious air, - his own, no doubt, for he had a remarkable gift for improvisation. I have a vague remembrance of his gaunt limbs, his earnest face, and the rise and fall of his bow. ~ Arthur Conan Doyle

Scared by the noise, Millie looked down at her brothers. Then she held out both arms and Tom's stomach turned cold. She was going to jump to him, like she did from the back of the sofa. She was going to jump, confident that he'd catch her, like he always did. ~ Sharon Bolton

Have you seen a person recently so delicious-looking that, were you and this person to be scrambling for ice-cream change with your arms in the sofa and your faces laid on the cushions looking at each other as you felt for coins and the ice-cream truck dinged on by and your hands in there felt only the lint of the sofa scrofula and your faces were fairly close across a distance of that knobby nylon terrain, you might feel compelled to slide you face toward this delicious-looking person's and kiss him or her - have you seen anyone like this recently? ~ Padgett Powell