One Hand One Heart Quotes

I caught her red-handed with her hands down his pants."
"You did not," Fancy told Madda sternly, with as much dignity as she was able. "It was just one hand. ~ Dia Reeves

Lilies, I rule, heads, you do," he [the King] said, and threw the coin into the air.
"Lilies, you rule, heads, you throw again," said Attolia.
The coin dropped. Eugenides looked at it and then showed it to her. "No need," he said. The coin sat in his palm, obverse, showing the lilies of Attolia. He flipped it again and again and again. Each time it landed showing the lilies.
...
(Relius)
He wanted to dismiss the coin toss as slight of hand. Any circus performer could control the drop of a coin, but he'd been puzzled. The queen had been undismayed; she had seemed almost vindicated in her manner. It had been the King who was more disturbed with each toss of the coin. He'd looked almost sick, Relius thought, by the time he put the coin away.
...
Walking away along the arcade that lay perpendicular to the one where Relius lurked, the king pulled the coin from his pocket. He looked at the gold stater in sudden disgust and pitched it hard between the columns of the arcade into the shrubbery. ~ Megan Whalen Turner

Ten salespeople, all young, all dressed in generic cotton casual, looked up from their conversations, spotted the money in her hand, and simultaneously stopped breathing-their brains shutting down bodily functions and rerouting the needed energy to calculate the projected commissions contained in Jody's cash. One by one they resumed breathing and marched toward her, a look of dazed hunger in their eyes: a pack of zombies from the perky, youthful version of The Night of the Living Dead. "I wear a size four and I've got a date in fifteen minutes," Jody said. "Dress me." They descended on her like an evil khaki wave. ~ Christopher Moore

Hold on to me!" Tedros yelled, hacking briars with his training sword.Dazed, Agatha clung to his chest as he withstood thorn lashes with moans of pain. Soon he had the upper hand and pulled Agatha from the Woods towards the spiked gates, which glowed in recognition and pulled apart, cleaving a narrow path for the two Evers. As the gates speared shut behind them,Agatha looked up at limping Tedros, crisscrossed with bloody scratches, blue shirt shredded away.
"Had a feeling Sophie was getting in through the Woods," he panted, hauling her up into slashed arms before she could protest. "So Professor Dovey gave me permission to take some fairies and stakeout the outer gates. Should have known you'd be here trying to catch her yourself."
Agatha gaped at him dumbly.
"Stupid idea for a princess to take on witches alone," Tedros said, dripping sweat on her pink dress.
"Where is she?" Agatha croaked. "Is she safe?"
"Not a good idea for princesses to worry about witches either," Tedros said, hands gripping her waist. Her stomach exploded with butterflies.
"Put me down," she sputtered -
"More bad ideas from the princess."
"Put me down!"Tedros obeyed and Agatha pulled away.
"I'm not a princess!" she snapped, fixing her collar.
"If you say so," the prince said, eyes drifting downward.Agatha followed them to her gashed legs, waterfalls of brilliant blood. She saw blood blurring - Tedros smiled.
"One . . . two . . . three . . ."She f ~ Soman Chainani

Diana" was the first thing out of her mouth. "I'm dying," the too familiar voice on the other end moaned.

I snorted, locking the front door behind me as I held the phone up to my face with my shoulder. "You're pregnant. You're not dying."

"But it feels like I am," the person who rarely ever complained whined. We'd been best friends our entire lives, and I could only count on one hand the number of times I'd heard her grumble about something that wasn't her family. I'd had the title of being the whiner in our epic love affair that had survived more shit than I was willing to remember right then.

I held up a finger when Louie tipped his head toward the kitchen as if asking if I was going to get started on dinner or not. "Well, nobody told you to get pregnant with the Hulk's baby. What did you expect? He's probably going to come out the size of a toddler."

The laugh that burst out of her made me laugh too. This fierce feeling of missing her reminded me it had been months since we'd last seen each other. "Shut up."

"You can't avoid the truth forever." Her husband was huge. I didn't understand why she wouldn't expect her unborn baby to be a giant too.

"Ugh." A long sigh came through the receiver in resignation. "I don't know what I was thinking - "

"You weren't thinking."

She ignored me. "We're never having another one. I can't sleep. I have to pee every two minutes. I'm the size of Mars - "
Mariana Zapata

Mockingbirds are the true artists of the bird kingdom. Which is to say, although they're born with a song of their own, an innate riff that happens to be one of the most versatile of all ornithological expressions, mocking birds aren't content to merely play the hand that is dealt them. Like all artists, they are out to rearrange reality. Innovative, willful, daring, not bound by the rules to which others may blindly adhere, the mockingbird collects snatches of birdsong from this tree and that field, appropriates them, places them in new and unexpected contexts, recreates the world from the world. For example, a mockingbird in South Carolina was heard to blend the songs of thirty-two different kinds of birds into a ten-minute performance, a virtuoso display that serve no practical purpose, falling, therefore, into the realm of pure art. ~ Tom Robbins

First, fold each lengthwise side of the garment toward the center (such as the left-hand, then right-hand, sides of a shirt) and tuck the sleeves in to make a long rectangular shape. It doesn't matter how you fold the sleeves. Next, pick up one short end of the rectangle and fold it toward the other short end. Then fold again, in the same manner, in halves or in thirds. The number of folds should be adjusted so that the folded clothing when standing on edge fits the height of the drawer. This is the basic principle that will ultimately allow your clothes to be stacked on edge, side by side, so that when you pull open your drawer you can see the edge of every item inside. If you find that the end result is the right shape but too loose and floppy to stand up, it's a sign that your way of folding doesn't match the type of clothing. Every piece of clothing has its own "sweet spot" where it feels just right - a ~ Marie Kondo

Here Marx simply assumes that proletarianization has already occurred and that a functioning labor market already exists. But he does, however, want to make "one thing" clear: Nature does not produce on the one hand owners of money or commodities, and on the other hand men possessing nothing but their own labour-power. This relation has no basis in natural history, nor does it have a social basis common to all periods of human history. It is clearly the result of a past historical development, the product of many economic revolutions, of the extinction of a whole series of older formations of social production. ~ David Harvey

Dawkins's advice shows that he didn't understand probability. . . . Dawkins said that a creature the lives millions of years would have a different feeling for the meaning of the chance of an event than we have. If the alien lives a hundred million years, he could have played very many hands of bridge Then, Dawkins said, it would not be unusual for him to see a 'perfect' bridge hand where each player was dealt thirteen cards of the same suit. 'They will expect to be dealt a perfect bridge hand from time to time, and will scarcely trouble to write home about it when it happens.'
He's wrong. One can easily calculate the chance of Dawkins's alien experiencing a perfect bridge hand at least once in his lifetime. The shance of getting such a hand in one deal is 4.47 x [10 to the minus 28th power]. If the alien plays 100 bridge hands every day of his life for 100 million years, he would play about 3.65 x [10 to the 12th power] hands. The chance of his seeing a perfect hand at least once in his life is then 1.63 x [10 to the minus 15th power], or about one chance in a quadrillion. That's less than Dawkins' chance of coming to New York for two weeks and winning the lottery twice in a row. Would he bother to write home about it? ~ Lee Spetner

Miss Rook!" His chocolate brown eyes brightened as he saw me, and he crossed the room at once to sweep me into a warm embrace. I felt his chest rise and fall. I could hear his heartbeat. He smelled like cedar.

"That will suffice," Jackaby grumbled loudly from behind me. "Yes, yes. You are young and your love is a hot biscuit and other abysmally romantic metaphors, I'm sure. You do recall that you saw each other yesterday?"

Charlie pulled away but paused to brush a hand gently across my neck. His smile was tired but gratified. I straightened and tried to will the flush out of my cheeks. "Normal people do occasionally express fondness for one another."

"Yes, fine. I'm familiar with the concept," he groused. "It's the bubbly auras and fluttering eyelashes that really test one's limits."

"My eyelashes do not flutter," I said.

"Who said I was talking about your eyelashes? Charlie has eyelashes."

"I apologize, Mr. Jackaby, for any undue fluttering on my part," Charlie said diplomatically. ~ William Ritter

When he got out, I rolled my window down. "You look like you're going to throw up."
He grimaced, pressing a hand to his stomach. "I don't know if it's from this, or if I actually am sick. I think Avery got sick from the weekend. She was puking this morning when I left."
"Avery, huh? At your place?"
He rolled his eyes. "Don't even start."
"But you see, I have to. I have to start. Avery's my friend. I'm hanging out with your brother. You and I are classmates. I think we can develop our friendship to the stage where I give you shit. We should even start sitting next to each other in class."
"Don't press your luck."
I kept going, "It's a natural progression. Don't fight it, Marcus. It's like evolution. Don't fight evolution. You'll never win. Mother nature is a bitch. She's always going to win."
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"How I get to give you shit. It's an amazing experience in life, like giving birth. It's painful for one person, but breathtaking for another. I'm the baby here. I get to feel air for the first time on my skin. Let me breathe, Marcus. Let me put my baby lungs to work and scream."
"I swear you're making me even sicker."
"If you gotta puke, don't suppress. It's a natural body process."
He eyed me a moment. "Did you rhyme that on purpose?"
"Maybe. Or I might be crazy?" I winked. "Or just a classy lady?"
"Stop. I'm really going to puke now." He groaned, pressing his arm against his forehead ~ Tijan

See!" she snapped at him. "You men are all brutish. You force your strength and will on us as if we matter for naught and then you wonder why we don'tlike " - she spat the word at him - "you. Really? Is it any wonder? Why would any woman want to subject herself to the male ego? Why?"

She looked down at his body as a sudden heat came into her gaze that made him instantly nervous. "Sure, you're a handsome beastie with kissable lips when they're not bleeding. You're fair in form with big, bulging - " He actually cringed in fear of the word "cock" coming out of her mouth again, but luckily she averted her thoughts as her gaze met his.

For the first time the despair left her voice. "Your eyes are so beautiful." She ran one finger over his brow, making him instantly hard for her. "Did you know that?" Then the gloomy tone returned as she dropped her hand from his face. "Of course you do. You're a worthless man. Just like all the others."

"Yeah," Blaise teased. "You're worthless, Varian. And what on him bulges again, Merewyn?"

Varian glared at the mandrake, who merely continued to laugh at him.

"Everything. His arms, his legs, his - "

"Enough, Merewyn," Varian said from between clenched teeth.

"Well, you do bulge. I've seen it."

"We've all seen it," Merrick said, his voice filled with humor, "And it's sickening."

Varian glared at the triplets, especially the ferret, who was lau ~ Kinley MacGregor

One of the methods used by statists to destroy capitalism consists in establishing controls that tie a given industry hand and foot, making it unable to solve its problems, then declaring that freedom has failed and stronger controls are necessary.=Ayn Rand ~ Ayn Rand

Sad to see a man's faith fail,the vampire Kurt Barlow had said, and then he'd plucked Don Callahan's dark and useless cross from his hand. Why had he been able to do that? Because - behold the paradox, consider the riddle - Father Callahanhad failed to throw the cross away himself. Because he had failed to accept that the cross was nothing but one symbol of a far greater power, one that ran like a river beneath the universe, perhaps beneath a thousand universes - I need no symbol ~ Stephen King

This clash is an absurdity because on one hand there is much scientific proof in favor of evolution, which appears as a reality that we must see and which enriches our understanding of life and being as such. ~ Pope Benedict XVI

Mother?" I rested one hand on the doorpost, with its carved pattern of palm branches. "Mother, will you teach me how to hunt?"
She gave me a strange look. "Gladly. But why?"
"Because if I do choose to go back to the training ground and Father finds out and wants me to stop, I want to bring him a whole cauldron of stewed rabbit so he'll change his mind."
When Mother stopped laughing, she took me outside, off into the olive grove, and gave me my first archery lesson. I didn't hit anything, but as Mother told me (with a perfectly straight face), I did manage to scare the olives off a couple of trees. ~ Esther M. Friesner

I am content with nothing, restless and ambitious ... and I despise myself for the vanity, which formed half the stimulus to my exertions. Oh would that I were one of those plodding wise fools who having once set their hand to the plough go on nothing doubting. ~ Thomas Huxley

Forget it." She turned to the closed door of the bathroom. "Forget I said anything. I take it back." Just as she pulled the door open, he was behind her, slamming it shut.
With one hand planted in front of her face, Max said next to her ear, "You can't take it back now."
"Yes, I can."
"No." He leaned his big body into her and shoved her against the door. "I heard you." His hot breath brushed her temple. "You love me Lola. I won't let you take it back. You can't ever take it back. ~ Rachel Gibson

My other hand?' Lopen said. 'The one that was cut off long ago, eaten by a fearsome beast? It is making a rude gesture toward you right now. I thought you would want to know, so you can prepare to be insulted. ~ Brandon Sanderson

The door suddenly opened. A leggy young brunette took two steps into the office and stopped short. Her brown eyes widened, she hastily excused herself and turned to leave. Pérez's jaw dropped as he looked up at her high heels and ankles. He crawled out from under the desk and turned questioningly to his partner. Thorne didn't hesitate. He took one swift stride from behind, clamped a hand tightly over her mouth, and pulled her back into the room, disregarding her wildly flailing legs and frantic attempts to claw his hands away. He shut the door with a backward thrust of his foot.
"What do we do now?" Pérez whined.
"Observe." Thorne spoke calmly, as would a professor demonstrating a familiar operation to a beginner. Using both hands, he briskly snapped her neck. She stopped struggling. ~ Clark Zlotchew

WHICH FAKE ROM-COM LADY CAREER SHOULD YOU PURSUE?

...Think Bond girl - you're incredibly smart in the one specific area that just so happens to help the protagonist in this one very specific instant of the plot. "Give me that," you'll say, snatching the hieroglyph from the hero's hand. "I have two PhDs in cryptozoological translation." You'll shove the hero aside from the beeping machine. "I'm NASA's top-ranking expert in nuclear disarmament techniques." Does it make sense? No, but who cares? You are very, very pretty. And smart, definitely smart because even though you look like a supermodel and wear very sexy clothing and a full face of makeup, you are also wearing glasses. Sure, twenty-four looks a little young to have three PhDs but they're pretty sure making you smart in whatever will move the plot forward means this movie is feminist. You will either end up running away with the hero, or you will die. Apologies. ~ Dana Schwartz

Men make the mistake of thinking that because women can't see the sense in violence, they must be passive creatures. It's just not true. In one important way, at least, men are the passive sex. Given a choice, they will always opt for the status quo. They hate change of any kind, and they fight against it constantly. On the other hand, what women want is stability, which when you stop to think about it is a very different animal. ~ Eric Van Lustbader

But when one believes in the reality of things, making them visible by artificial means is not quite the same as feeling that they are close at hand. ~ Marcel Proust

I am obedient. I can never say no to those weaker than myself. And because I am six feet two and can lift a two-hundred-pound sack with one hand, in all my life I have yet to find anyone I can resist. ~ Milan Kundera

It does not matter whether one paints a picture, writes a poem, or carves a statue - simplicity is the mark of a master-hand ... ~ Elsie De Wolfe

If you ever need a helping hand, it is at the end of your arm. As you get older you must remember you have a second hand. The first one is to help yourself. The second hand is to help others. ~ Audrey Hepburn

Time is the cog that turns the wheel
Winter leaves scars that do not heal
Summer is a fire that burns inside
Knowledge is a terrible burden to hide
Strength and death go hand in hand
One answer lies within the sand
But seek the answer all alone
Lest the sand claim you as its own. ~ Julie Kagawa

Nihilism, a normal condition.

It may be a sign of strength; spiritual vigour may have increased to such an extent that the goals toward which man has marched hitherto (the "convictions," articles of faith) are no longer suited to it (for a faith generally expresses the exigencies of the conditions of existence, a submission to the authority of an order of things which conduces to the prosperity, the growth and power of a living creature ...); on the other hand, a sign of insufficient strength, to fix a goal, a "wherefore," and a faith for itself.

It reaches its maximum of relative strength, as a powerful destructive force, in the form of active Nihilism.

Its opposite would be weary Nihilism, which no longer attacks: its most renowned form being Buddhism: as passive Nihilism, a sign of weakness: spiritual strength may be fatigued, exhausted, so that the goals and values which have prevailed hitherto are no longer suited to it and are no longer believed in - so that the synthesis of values and goals (upon which every strong culture stands) [Pg 22]decomposes, and the different values contend with one another: Disintegration, then everything which is relieving, which heals, becalms, or stupefies, steps into the foreground under the cover of various disguises, either religious, moral, political or aesthetic, etc. ~ Friedrich Nietzsche

If I'm dead right now, I know it was at your hand. No one else in heaven or hell had power over me. Please don't cry, I was dead before I met you, I was born the day you loved me, and my love for you will keep me alive.. Forever. ~ Unknown

Some Things, Say the Wise Ones Some things, say the wise ones who know everything, are not living. I say, you live your life your way and leave me alone. I have talked with the faint clouds in the sky when they are afraid of being left behind; I have said, Hurry, hurry! and they have said: thank you, we are hurrying. About cows, and starfish, and roses, there is no argument. They die, after all. But water is a question, so many living things in it, but what is it, itself, living or not? Oh, gleaming generosity, how can they write you out? As I think this I am sitting on the sand beside the harbor. I am holding in my hand small pieces of granite, pyrite, schist. Each one, just now, so thoroughly asleep. ~ Mary Oliver

People with eating disorders tend to be very diametrical thinkers – everything is the end of the world, everything rides on this one thing, and everyone tells you you're very dramatic, very intense, and they see it as an affectation, but it´s actually just how you think. It really seems to you that the sky will fall if you are not personally holding it up. On the one hand, this is sheer arrogance; on the other hand, this is a very real fear. And it isn't that you ignore the potential repercussions of your actions. You don't think there are any. Because you are not even there. ~ Marya Hornbacher

It was 1976.
It was one of the darkest days of my life when that nurse, Mrs. Shimmer, pulled out a maxi pad that measured the width and depth of a mattress and showed us how to use it. It had a belt with it that looked like a slingshot that possessed the jaw-dropping potential to pop a man's head like a gourd. As she stretched the belt between the fingers of her two hands, Mrs. Shimmer told us becoming a woman was a magical and beautiful experience.

I remember thinking to myself, You're damn right it had better be magic, because that's what it's going to take to get me to wear something like that, Tinkerbell! It looked like a saddle. Weighed as much as one, too. Some girls even cried.
I didn't.
I raised my hand.
"Mrs. Shimmer," I asked the cautiously, "so what kind of security napkins do boys wear when their flower pollinates? Does it have a belt, too?"
The room got quiet except for a bubbling round of giggles.
"You haven't been paying attention, have you?" Mrs. Shimmer accused sharply. "Boys have stamens, and stamens do not require sanitary napkins. They require self control, but you'll learn that soon enough."
I was certainly hoping my naughty bits (what Mrs. Shimmer explained to us was like the pistil of a flower) didn't get out of control, because I had no idea what to do if they did. ~ Laurie Notaro

... one, two, three, four, six, Good Lord, eight? Eight packs? Furthermore, had I actually been feeling said person's eight pack? And, dear God, I was counting. I had touched each muscle. And great, my hand was still firmly placed against the guy's stomach.
I jerked my hand back and closed my eyes.
"Were you just counting my abs?" His voice sounded amused. It also sounded like a movie star voice, the type that makes you want to jump into the TV screen. ~ Rachel Van Dyken

The question we all face is what sort of culture we will live in for the rest of our lives and then hand on to the next generation - one that embraces these most basic of values, or one that collapses because of their absence. ~ Tammy Bruce

Love casts out fear; but conversely fear casts out love. And not only love. Fear also casts out intelligence, casts out goodness, casts out all thought of beauty and truth. What remains in the bum or studiedly jocular desperation of one who is aware of the obscene Presence in the corner of the room and knows that the door is locked, that there aren't any windows. And now the thing bears down on him. He feels a hand on his sleeve, smells a stinking breath, as the executioner's assistant leans almost amorously toward him. "Your turn next, brother. Kindly step this way." And in an instant his quiet terror is transmuted into a frenzy as violent as it is futile. There is no longer a man among his fellow men, no longer a rational being speaking articulately to other rational beings; there is only a lacerated animal, screaming and struggling in the trap. For in the end fear casts out even a man's humanity. And fear, my good friends, fear is the very basis and foundation of modern life. Fear of the much touted technology which, while it raises out standard of living, increases the probability of our violently dying. Fear of the science which takes away the one hand even more than what it so profusely gives with the other. Fear of the demonstrably fatal institutions for while, in our suicidal loyalty, we are ready to kill and die. Fear of the Great Men whom we have raised, and by popular acclaim, to a power which they use, inevitably, to murder and enslave us. Fear of the war we don't ~ Aldous Huxley