Messup Face Quotes

It's not always going to be this easy, baby. No matter how much we say the past is in the past, there are going to be times when resentment claws its way through our flames. And it's going to take both of us, together, working as a team to fight that back." I tucked a stray hair behind her ear and allowed my gaze to roam her beautiful face. Fuck, this woman owned me. She always had. Always would. "I'm committing to do that with you Mira. I'm committing to fight harder than I've ever fought for anything in my life. Because we're fucking worth it. ~ Aly Martinez

Not as others had wanted to learn, for power or excitement, or for the prosecution of some enmity or private greed; but because he had seen, darkly with a child's eyes, how the gods move with the winds and speak with the sea and sleep in the gentle herbs; and how God himself is in the sum of all that is on the face of the lovely earth. ~ Mary Stewart

There was very little about her face and figure that was in any way
remarkable, but it was the sort of face which, when animated by
conversation or laughter, is completely transformed. She had a lovely
disposition, a quick mind and a fondness for the comical. She was
always very ready to smile and, since a smile is the most becoming
ornament that any lady can wear, she had been known upon occasion to
outshine women who were acknowledged beauties in three countries. ~ Susanna Clarke

You needn't manhandle me," she hissed, though she didn't fight him.
"Trust me, Miss Butterfield, you'll know when I'm manhandling you." He stopped before a chair. "Sit," he commanded, pushing her into it. "And try to restrain your urge to attack people for half a moment, will you?"
"I was not-"
"As for you," he growled at her companion, "give me the satchel that caused all this furor."
"Yes, sir…I mean, my lord."
Oliver took the satchel from the young man, whose face was drained of all color. Clearly, he lacked his companion's fierceness. ~ Sabrina Jeffries

Let's face it, if what you do is good, then you have God's blessing anyway. And if what you do is bad, then a priest's blessing isn't going to make the slightest bit of difference ~ Karl Wiggins

Stop," Jesse said.
I stared up at him, almost panting with fear.
"Stop, beloved," he said more gently, and took up my clenched fist with both hands. "I've upset you, and I shouldn't have. I don't want you to dread yourself. I don't want you to dread what is to come. Like I said, you're exceptional, so there may be nothing to worry about at all. But whatever happens, whatever you face, I'll face it with you. Do you hear?"
"How can you say it? It nearly happened on the roof today. You can't know-"
"I will be with you. We're together now, and the universe knows I won't let you make your sacrifice alone. Dragon protects star. Star adores dragon. An age-old axiom. Simple as that."
I looked down at our hands, both of his curled over mine. I unclenched my fist. Blood from the thorn smeared my skin.
"The universe," I muttered. "The same universe that has produced the Kaiser and bedbugs and Chloe Pemington. How reassuring."
With the same absolute concentration he might have shown for turning flowers into gold, Jesse Holms smoothed out my fingers between his, wiping away the blood. He turned my hand over and lifted it to his lips. His next words fell soft as velvet into the heart of my palm.
"Those nights, in the sweetest dark, we shared our dreams. That's you answer. I was stitched into yours, and you were stitched into mind, and that was real, I promise you." I felt his lips curve into a smile. The unbelievably sensual, ticklish scuff of his w ~ Shana Abe

Indifference

This hate has blossomed like a living love,
grieving, watching its own exhaustion.
It seeks a face, it seeks flesh, as though it were love.

The worldly flesh and the voices that spoke
are dead, all has shuddered away,
all life hangs on a voice.
Days pass in bitter ecstasy to the sad
caress of the voice that returns
and drains the blood from our faces. Not without sweetness
that voice returns to the mind exhausted
and trembling: once it trembled for me.

But the flesh does not tremble. Only love
could set it alight, this hate seeks it out.
All the possessions, all the flesh and all the voices
in the world cannot equal the burning caress
of that body and those eyes. In the bitter ecstasy
that kills itself, this hate still finds
each day a glance, a broken word,
and grasps them, hungrily, like love. ~ Cesare Pavese

An expression crept over Asher's face that was not unlike that of a lonely child being told that Santa had not in fact been strangled to death in an alley in New Orleans ~ Warren Ellis

A few days after I'd had my shoelace meltdown, after many tears, I found myself drained of emotion, a hollowed-out shell. My mother saw the blank expression on my face and she saw an opportunity to drag me out of the fog. She took it. She came up to my bed, leaned in close--but not so close that the other people in the room couldn't hear her, and said, "You just had to outdo your dad and lose your arm and your leg." She smiled, waiting for my reply, but all I could do was laugh. ~ Noah Galloway

These were the new girls of New York- complete with rapid heartbeats from too much nicotine and coffee. They were nervous and fluttery but completely alluring- the new face of urban femininity. ~ Elizabeth Winder

A man like Sterling wouldn't understand, even though he heals sick people. He'll never love you right. He doesn't love you right, or else you'd be home right now cooking and cleaning and waiting for him. He doesn't know how to taste your pain much less fix it. I was gonna tell him more but he closed the door in my face. I guess that's how a gentleman would do it but a real man wouldn't have whipped his wife . . ." Small Pleasures: Mya's Story (chapter, The Devil Whips His Wife) ~ Darnishia Bolden

Harry uttered an inarticulate yell of rage: In that instant, he cared not whether he lived or died. Pushing himself to his feet again, he staggered blindly toward Snape, the man he now hated as much as he hated Voldemort himself
"Sectum - !"
Snape flicked his wand and the curse was repelled yet again; but Harry was mere feet away now and he could see Snape's face clearly at last: He was no longer sneering or jeering; the blazing flames showed a face full of rage. Mustering all his powers of concentration, Harry thought, Levi
"No, Potter!" [ ... ] Snape's pale face, illuminated by the flaming cabin, was suffused with hatred just as it had been before he had cursed Dumbledore.
"You dare use my own spells against me, Potter? It was I who invented them - I, the Half-Blood Prince! And you'd turn my inventions on me, like your filthy father, would you? I don't think so ... no! ~ J.K. Rowling

When we suffer, God empowers us to face the worst and become our best. ~ Mark Buchanan

Ivashkov," she repeated, her face the picture of serenity. "My name is Sydney Ivashkov. ~ Richelle Mead

That's great, Cath said, trying not to let her face show how much she wanted to kiss and kill him. ~ Rainbow Rowell

I'm bad for your health, like puttin' a pistol up to your face and blastin' yourself. ~ Dr. Dre

His hand went into the skimmer's hull, an inch from her head. She didn't flinch. She turned her head slowly, trying to pretend her heart wasn't slamming against her chest.
'You missed,' she said calmly.
Nehza pulled his hand away from the hull. Blood trickled down his knuckles from four crimson fots.
She should have been afraid, but when she searched his face, she couldn't find a shred of anger. Just fear.
She had no respect for fear.
'I don't want to hurt you,' he said.
'Of, trust me.' Her lip curled. 'You couldn't. ~ R.F. Kuang

Before I could respond, he snapped his fingers, and I was suddenly standing outside the mansion, my booted feet in the sand, the smell of salt overwhelming my senses, and the rolling ocean at my back.

A growl of anger rose in my throat. "I hate it when you do that."

The smile on his face increased. "I know."

I absolutely loathed it, and the bastard did it every chance he got - usually about every five minutes whenever I was in his presence and mostly without any purpose. Sometimes he would just pop me from room to room for the hell of it. The last year or so of my life had been a real test of my short patience. ~ Jennifer L. Armentrout

He touches my face.
There is something different in his touch. It feels like he's saying good-bye, and I know a moment of panic.
But my dream sky darkens and sleep's moon fills the horizon.
"Don't leave me." I thrash in the sheets.
"I'm not, Mac."
I know I am dreaming then, because dreams are home to the absurd and what he says next is beyond absurd.
"You're leaving me, Rainbow Girl. ~ Karen Marie Moning

Reaching a general understanding that sustainability is the ultimate issue will finally bring us face-to-face with the political challenge of forging a sustainable society during the next few decades. It is a challenge we can meet if we have the leadership and the political will to do so. ~ Gaylord Nelson

Alec?" Mark asked. "You okay there, big guy?" The man stumbled forward, almost fell down. But he righted himself and stood up straight and tall again. Mark hadn't wanted to shine the light in his friend's face, but he felt like he had no choice. He raised the flashlight and pointed it directly at Alec. He was flushed and sweating, his eyes wide and darting back and forth as if he expected a monster to leap from the shadows at any moment. "Hey, what's wrong?" Mark asked. Alec took another laboring step forward. "I'm sick, Mark. I'm really, really sick. I need to die. I need to die and I don't wanna die for nothing. ~ James Dashner

Lustful Desire (although 'twere rather fit To some brute creature to attribute it) Shall be presented in the second place, Because it shrouds a vile deformed face Beneath love's vizard, and assumes that name, Hiding its own fault with the other's blame. ~ George Wither

If you want to kill me then go ahead, but remember the unspoken rule between us. You are mine, Liam. You belong to me. Your face, your body, your heart, your soul, you sold it to me and I sold mine to you. So if I die, you die. If you die, I die. As long as there is air in your lungs, there is air in mine. So don't pretend, Liam. You're not fooling anyone…not even yourself. So either let me go and kiss me, or kill us all and be done with it.""If you want to kill me then go ahead, but remember the unspoken rule between us. You are mine, Liam. You belong to me. Your face, your body, your heart, your soul, you sold it to me and I sold mine to you. So if I die, you die. If you die, I die. As long as there is air in your lungs, there is air in mine. So don't pretend, Liam. You're not fooling anyone…not even yourself. So either let me go and kiss me, or kill us all and be done with it. ~ J.J. McAvoy

I was so paranoid that my friends wouldn't like me. I went to a very small school where the consequences of bullying were very real. You couldn't just push some nameless face in the hallway because everybody knew each other's families, so there wasn't the obligatory psychotic jackass that tortured everybody. ~ Kristen Bell

Modern man's narrow-mindedness is best shown in his belief that there is no riddle before him. His wisdom is the sum of his knowledge and his ignorance, of which he is not aware, he accepts it as knowledge. Even in the face of the greatest mystery, he behaves self-consciously and conceitedly. He does not even see the problem. It is in this that the true measure of his ignorance and prejudice is manifested. ~ Alija Izetbegovic

As he spoke, the edges of the clay man began shimmering, like air does in intense heat, and the lumpen form gradually became more manlike. "Something's happening!" I cried. I was paralyzed by shock and hope. "Please let it work. Come back, Vincent. You have to come back, I whispered, pleading.
Red clay became olive-toned skin, and the bald head became waves of raven black hair. The face that Jules had carefully sculpted became a real nose and mouth and eyes, closed as if in sleep. But it lay there, still unmoving, until, focusing on the air just above, Bran yelled, "Come, bardia spirit, inhabit this body!" He made one final sweeping gesture, as if pulling the aura downward, and touching his fingers to the body's side.
The eyes flew open and Vincent took a great gulping gasp, as if trying to swallow all of the oxygen in the room.
"Vincent," I said, my heart in my throat.
His eyes flew to mine. He reached toward me, and I took his hand and pressed it to my cheek. His skin was burning hot, like with a fever. I kissed his fingers, and his skin smelled like fire and rain-soaked earth. Like the boy I thought I would never touch again. ~ Amy Plum

Surrounded by a very, very pissed-off face. Not merely angry. Livid. "Excuse me?" I squeak, finding my voice. "Why can't you all just leave me the fuck alone?" The handsome - really handsome - stranger in front of me is shaking in rage, and ~ Kristen Proby

I saw him look at the clock and at the door. He was thinking of leaving. He turned his face gently away from a kiss she was about to give him. There was a suggestion of uneasiness, almost disgust, in his expression. ~ Henri Barbusse

The strange, unbeautiful face beautiful in its ugliness; the perfect, beautiful face ugly in its perfection. ~ Eric Maisel

Books bombarded his shoulders, his arms, his upturned face. A book lit, almost obediently, like a white pigeon, in his hands, wings fluttering. ~ Ray Bradbury

Fascinated by the glitter of gain, man gazes at the Medusa-like face of greed and stands petrified. ~ Manly P. Hall

These questions are punctuated by other questions, as diverse as "Will I ever do time?" and "Did this girl have a trusting heart?" The smell of meat and blood clouds up the condo until I don't notice it anymore. And later my macabre joy sours and I'm weeping for myself, unable to find solace in any of this, crying out, sobbing "I just want to be loved," cursing the earth and everything I have been taught: principles, distinctions, choices, morals, compromises, knowledge, unity, prayer - all of it was wrong, without any final purpose. All it came down to was: die or adapt. I imagine my own vacant face, the disembodied voice coming from its mouth: These are terrible times. Maggots already writhe across the human sausage, the drool pouring from my lips dribbles over them, and still I can't tell if I'm cooking any of this correctly, because I'm crying too hard and I have never really cooked anything before. ~ Bret Easton Ellis

Reckon women don't think like men." "Why on earth don't they learn how?" I rubbed my face. "Ain't meant to, honey." I smiled and kissed his brow. "It occurs to us to ask the same thing. Keeps the world turning, I suspect. ~ Nancy E. Turner

What Ireland shares with many societies around the world is a dangerous reality: once a group of people is isolated as being in some way inferior, the general population becomes less concerned with how they are treated, even in the face of evidence of cruelty and abuse. In Ireland's case, the thousands of victims of industrial schools bear witness to a society unwilling to question its own comfortable certainties out of a fear that those beliefs might turn out to have been built on sand. ~ Mary Raftery

Such is our need to shower blame on some distant entity when it is we who lack the courage to face up to what is there before us. ~ Jose Saramago

I wouldn't be face-washing anyone in real life. I'd be skating to the bench real fast to get away. ~ Patrick Kane

She had seen that look before, on the faces of white women, strangers on the street, who would see her hand clasped in Curt's and instantly cloud their faces with that look. The look of people confronting a great tribal loss. It was not merely because Curt was white, it was the kind of white he was, the untamed golden hair and handsome face, the athlete's body, the sunny charm and the smell, around him, of money. ~ Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

A stone, a leaf, an unfound door; a stone, a leaf, a door. And of all the forgotten faces.
Naked and alone we came into exile. In her dark womb we did not know our mother's face; from the prison of her flesh have we come into the unspeakable and incommunicable prison of this earth.
Which of us has known his brother? Which of us has looked into his father's heart? Which of us has not remained forever prison-pent? Which of us is not forever a stranger and alone?
O waste of lost, in the hot mazes, lost, among bright stars on this weary, unbright cinder, lost! Remembering speechlessly we seek the great forgotten language, the lost lane-end into heaven, a stone, a leaf, an unfound door. Where? When?
O lost, and by the wind grieved, ghost, come back again. ~ Thomas Wolfe