Pout Quotes

Her lips are full and red and tend to wetness and do not ask but rather demand, in a pout of liquid silk, to be kissed. I kiss them often, I admit it, it is what I do, I am a kisser, and a kiss with Lenore is, if I may indulge a bit for a moment here, not so much a kiss as it is a dislocation, a removal and rude transportation of essence from self to lip, so that it is not so much two human bodies coming together and doing the usual things with their lips as it is two sets of lips spawned together and joined in kind from the beginning of post-Scarsdale time, achieving full ontological status only in subsequent union and trailing behind and below them, as they join and become whole, two now utterly superfluous fleshly bodies, drooping outward and downward from the kiss like the tired stems of overblossomed flora, trailing shoes on the ground, husks. ~ David Foster Wallace

Dogs are quick to show their affection. They never pout, they never bear a grudge. They never run away from home when mistreated. They never complain about their food. They never gripe about the way the house is kept. They are chivalrous and courageous, ready to protect their mistress at the risk of their lives. They love children, and no matter how noisy and boisterous they are, the dog loves every minute of it. In fact, a dog is still competition for a husband. Perhaps if we husbands imitated a few of our dog's virtues, life with our family might be more amiable. ~ Billy Graham

Right. So I didn't tell her. Now, where do we start?"
His face falls into a pout. "I was counting on Bunce to tell us where to start."
"Let's start with what we know," I say. That's where Penelope always starts.
"Right." Baz actually seems nervous. He's tapping the chalk against his trouser leg, leaving white smudges. ~ Rainbow Rowell

My eyes meet his eyes.
"You were a jerk," I say.
His hands move to my cheeks. "I'm sorry."
I pull away, but I can only go an inch before I bump into lacrosse sticks, not that I really want to go any farther. "Nope. No way. You do not get to kiss me yet."
He pouts. ~ Carrie Jones

Peter smiled as Concheetah sashayed across the ballroom floor
Concheetah sashayed towards him, wriggling her hips, full lips in a pout, followed obediently by the tentative, Tapping Ted dressed in tight shorts and singlet. Tapping? Tapping because he always wore conspicuous, tap-dancing shoes in the club.
Was Ted going to rip up the stage as a mincing Irish dancer or maybe perform a Gene Kelly routine or the Swan Lake ballet in taps? It was terrible to imagine. Peter bit his lip at that thought, hoping he wouldn't burst into howls of laughter.
He had noted after coming to several shows, that Ted usually stood at the side of the stage ready with a drink of champagne and an encouraging word and a dry towel to mop Her Highness's face. And he always cried during the
show's finale, Abba's Dancing Queen. Poor Tapping Ted. ~ T.W. Lawless

Why do you keep pushing me all the time?" Ryan looked at him with a pout.
"Because a guy like you shouldn't be alone. ~ K.A. Merikan

All around her it was like that: a fast crack on the head if you let the hunger show so she decided then and there at the age of twelve in Baltimore never to be broken in the hands of any man. Whatever it took
knife blades or screaming teeth
Never. And yes, she would tap dance, and yes, she would skate, but she would do it with a frown, pugnacious lips and scary eyes, because Never. And anybody who wanted nice from this little colored girl would have to get it with pliers and chloroform, because Never. When her mother died and she went to Philadelphia and then away to school, she was so quick to learn, but no touchee, teacher, and no, I do not smile, because Never. It smoothed out a little as she grew older. The pugnacious lips became a seductive pout
eyes more heated than scary. But beneath the easy manners was a claw always ready to rein in the dogs, because Never. ~ Toni Morrison

Most women beg me to lick them, and I give it to you for free and you push me away," he said with a fake pout on his face.
"You're crazy." I giggled
"I'm the good kind of crazy, though. ~ Abbi Glines

Wisdom you speak, Obi Tina.'
'None of that - I'm the one who gets to speak backwards - no, we're both wrong - that's the little green guy, Yoda.'
'You're right. So I just get to pout and act badly when you try and teach me anything.'
'Try channelling Luke rather than Annakin - the outcome is better. ~ Joss Stirling

While others might feel manipulative, I feel powerless. Sometimes I just hurt so bad from the mean things that people do to me, real or perceived, or I'm so desperately feeling abandoned, that I withdraw and pout and go silent. At some point people get pissed off and fed up with that crap and they go away and then I'm left with nothing all over again. ~ Paul T. Mason

I literally felt gutted, as if someone had hollowed me out, removed my core. Patients in the final stage of dementia revert to an almost neonatal state, their brains so atrophied they can only breathe and digest, suck and pout. That was how I felt. I continued to function, but only at the most basic level, my existence little more than a collection of primitive reflexes. ~ Kylie Ladd

Don't pout that way, my child, you'll give yourself a blister ~ Lloyd Alexander

Well, now," Mrs. Havisham said, all but purring as she leaned forward, ample cleavage on display. "You've grown up, haven't you? Tell me, Gustavo. What are your thoughts on having an experienced lover?"
"Not many," Gus said. "In fact, none at all. Also? I came out when I was thirteen. You were there. As was the whole town. Pastor Tommy announced it at the Fall Harvest Festival. On stage. Into a microphone. There was apple pie afterward."
"Still?" she said with an exaggerated pout.
"Yes," Gus said, deadpan as he could make it. "Still. Funny how that works."
"Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me," she said, dragging a pink fingernail down his arm. "My door is always open. Like my body."
"That's not even remotely healthy," Gus said with a sniff.
"Maybe that's why I need your protein," she said with a wink.
"Nope," Gus said. "Nope, nope, nope."
"You sure about that?"
"Maybe you should close that door. And your legs. ~ T.J. Klune

This is where we come," he said.
Albie and I look at each other. "We?"
"Me and, you know."
Albie's eyes got wide. "I really don't think I want to know about this."
I surprised myself. "I do," I said. I guess I was tired of having to withhold the truth from Toby. Other than Ben, he and Albie we're easily my best friends at Natick.
Toby looked a little surprised, like he'd just assumed we wouldn't want to hear the details.
"You do?"
"Yeah."
He looked around to make sure we were alone. We definitely were. No one came back here to my knowledge. Also it was cold. Like twenty degrees. Only three idiots would be in the woods in the winter, it seemed to me.
"Robinson" he said.
"Gorilla Butt," I said, nodding. "I know."
"You know?"
"Yup."
Toby crossed his arms an then deflated into a fake pout. "You're stealing my scene, bitch. Scene stealer."
"Sorry," I said. "So you and Gorilla Butt. Wow."
He flipped me off. "He hates that," Toby said. "But, yeah. It's hairy."
"Oh, look, almost anything else in the universe," Albie said, heading back to campus and leaving us in the clearing.
"He's such a prude," Toby said rolling his eyes. ~ Bill Konigsberg

One should know the value of Life better than to pout any part of it away. ~ Hester Lynch Piozzi

Guthrie handed him the mug, a wee pout pulling his pale face out of shape. With his semi-skimmed skin, faint ginger hair, and blond eyebrows he looked like a ghost that had been at the pies. "Milk, two sugars. ~ Stuart MacBride

I'm a really smiley person, so I've just learned when I'm doing my own makeup, I have to make sure it's smile ready and not too heavy. As amazing as the Victoria Beckham pout is for photos, I just can't do it! ~ Rosario Dawson

I'm really sorry, Nathan." Her accent thickened as she stared up at him, biting her lip nervously as she wondered how much he would pout.
Nathan could go all quiet, somber, and answer her in monosyllables that drove her insane. He would glare at her.
He would watch ball games. He would come to bed late. Late. After she went to sleep. And wouldn't give her any until the next morning. It really wasn't fair.
"Nathan, please don't be mad at me . . ."
"How did you hit my truck? How? It was sitting in plain view. Plain view, Sabella." He was getting angry. He only said her full name when he was really getting angry or really, really horny. And he was not horny. Okay, this wasn't good. She could do without for days. But she didn't like it.
She stomped her foot, glaring back at him in irritation. "If it weren't for you, I would have never hit it."
"Me?" He stepped back, shaking his head fiercely. "How the hell was this my fault?"
"Because you were cutting the grass, with no shirt, in sexy jeans and boots, and seeing your tight ass striding across the lawn made me horny. You distracted me. It's all your fault. If you dress properly things like this just would not happen, Nathan . . ."
He kissed her. It wasn't a gentle, easy kiss. It was rough and ready and smack full of lust as he jerked her against him, pressing his cock into her belly as she gasped in pleasure.
"You are so spanked." He picked her up, striding across the lawn, leaving her ~ Lora Leigh

Give me a minute to get dressed."
"You're not dressed?"
I smiled in spite of myself at the lighthearted quility of his jest. Until my broken door began to move. "Jace!" I shouted, trying to keep from laughing as I vaulted off the bed and scrambled to stop him. He wasn't seriously trying to sneak a peek; if he had been, he wouldn't have made any noise. But if I let him get away with a joke today, he'd try it for real tomorrow.
Jace yelped as I ripped the door from his grasp and leaned it against the frame. Then he sulked, his eyes roaming just far enough south to see my tank top and shorts. "Liar!" he accused, the smile in his eyes ruining his pout. "You're not naked."
"I meant I wanted to change."
He grinned. "So, go ahead."
"Nice try. ~ Rachel Vincent

You do not have to die this certain day.
Death will abide, will pamper your postponement.
I assure you death will wait. Death has
a lot of time. Death can
attend to you tomorrow. Or next week. Death is
just down the street; is most obliging neighbor;
can meet you any moment.
You need not die today.
Stay here–through pout or pain or peskyness.
Stay here. See what the news is going to be tomorrow.
Graves grow no green that you can use.
Remember, green's your color. You are Spring. ~ Gwendolyn Brooks

As for free will, there is such a narrow crack of it for man to move in, crushed as he is from birth by environment, heredity, time and event and local convention. If I had been born of Italian parents in one of the caves in the hills I would be a prostitute at the age of 12 or so because I had to live (why?) and that was the only way open. If I was born into a wealthy New York family with pseudo-cultural leanings, I would have had my coming-out party along with the rest of them, and be equipped with fur coats, social contacts, and a blase pout. How do I know? I don't; I can only guess. I wouldn't be I. But I am I now; and so many other millions are so irretrievably their own special variety of "I" that I can hardly bear to think of it. I: how firm a letter; how reassuring the three strokes: one vertical, proud and assertive, and then the two short horizontal lines in quick, smug succession. The pen scratches on the paper ... I ... I ... I ... I ... I ... I. ~ Sylvia Plath

You swore you wouldn't shout. If it's not your punch, then it's your pout. ~ Elvis Costello

What brings you to my room?" he asked, relief bleeding into annoyance.
"Adventure. Intrigue. Brotherly concern. Or," continued the prince lazily, "perhaps I'm just giving your mirror something to look at besides your constant pout."
Kell frowned, and Rhy smiled. "Ah, there it is! That famous scowl. ~ Victoria Schwab

A man receives only what he is ready to receive, whether physically or intellectually or morally, as animals conceive at certain seasons their kind only. We hear and apprehend only what we already half know. If there is something which does not concern me, which is out of my line, which by experience or by genius my attention is not drawn to, however novel and remarkable it may be, if it is spoken, we hear it not, if it is written, we read it not, or if we read it, it does not detain us. Every man thus tracks himself through life, in all his hearing and reading and observation and traveling. His observations make a chain. The phenomenon or fact that cannot in any wise be linked with the rest which he has observed, he does not observe. By and by we may be ready to receive what we cannot receive now. I find, for example, in Aristotle some thing about the spawning, etc., of the pout and perch, because I know something about it already and have my attention aroused; but I do not discover till very late that he has made other equally important observations on the spawning of other fishes, because I am not interested in those fishes. ~ Henry David Thoreau

So, I suppose you just have a sense of where it is. And you don't have to be precise, is that it?"
"Allah is great. He has such wide shoulders."
Carl stuck out his lower lip in a pout. Of course Allah did. What was he thinking, anyway? ~ Jussi Adler-Olsen

I pout my lower lip for a second, but then I grin as the pieces come together.
"That's why you like me!" I exclaim. "Because you're not very nice either! It makes so much more sense now. ~ Veronica Roth

She is probably slightly too old to pout, but they've been going out a short enough time for it still to be cute. ~ Jojo Moyes

When you are very pretty, people tend to remark on your looks. They smile at you more easily. They are more permissive of your faults. Soon, you come to believe that your prettiness matters, and that you are better because you are pretty, and that all it takes to get through life is a batting of your eyelashes and a twisting of your hair around your little finger, and that you can scream and pout and shout and tease because everyone will still like you anyway because you are so unbelievably pretty. This is what many very pretty people think.
Beware, then, for this is how monsters are made. ~ Adam Gidwitz

We should tell our kids to just have fun, participate and not get bent on winning or losing. But every coach, when they say that, they say it tongue in cheek, 'Don't worry about winning': If you win I'll get you ice cream, but if you lose I'm going to pout in the car. ~ Bode Miller

My therapist played your interview in front of everyone I know. I was the only one who hadn't seen it. I had no idea what was going on and everyone stared at me the whole time. I had to watch that interview with my father standing over my shoulder. It was so embarrassing."
Brian crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow. "My love for you is embarrassing?"
Miracle of miracles, I managed to keep a straight face. "There's such a thing as subtlety, Brian. You could benefit from a few lessons on the subject."
I'd been doing well, but when Brian's face fell into a pout I burst into laughter. "I loved it. ~ Kelly Oram

She heard Piers give an excited little cry and someone gave an excited little cry in return, and Grace Vaughn appeared in the open doorway, laden down with garment bags.

For one fleeting moment, Ellie saw both husband and wife's faces light up before they resembled their usual expressions – a scowl and a pout respectively. ~ Sarra Manning

Our spirit can handle quite a bit of what is thrown its way, and generally, rising to the challenges presented by our lives (the Universe) can benefit us emotionally and mentally as well as spiritually. But the key here is allowing our spirits to rise to challenges. Often, because this involves things that are UNCOMFORTABLE - at least initially - we rebel. We'd rather sit in the corner and pout than do any real, useful work. I know. I sometimes pout. ~ Stephanee Killen

Come for a walk, dear. The air will do you good."
Raoul thought that she would propose a stroll in the country, far from that building which he detested as a prison whose jailer he could feel walking within the walls... the jailer Erik... But she took him to the stage and made him sit on the wooden curb of a well, in the doubtful peace and coolness of a first scene set for the evening's performance.
On another day, she wandered with him, hand in hand, along the deserted paths of a garden whose creepers had been cut out by a decorator's skillful hands. It was as though the real sky, the real flowers, the real earth were forbidden her for all time and she condemned to breathe no other air than that of the theatre. An occasional fireman passed, watching over their melancholy idyll from afar. And she would drag him up above the clouds, in the magnificent disorder of the grid, where she loved to make him giddy by running in front of him along the frail bridges, among the thousands of ropes fastened to the pulleys, the windlasses, the rollers, in the midst of a regular forest of yards and masts. If he hesitated, she said, with an adorable pout of her lips:
"You, a sailor!"
And then they returned to terra firma, that is to say, to some passage that led them to the little girls' dancing-school, where brats between six and ten were practicing their steps, in the hope of becoming great dancers one day, "covered with diamonds..." Meanwhile, Christine gave them sweets ~ Gaston Leroux

Are you trying to call me strange, Mandrake?" I pout playfully.

He nods. "Your strange is what makes you sensational to me. ~ Chelsea Ballinger

I have studied your lips
every line, dip and bend
and
have come to realize
one truth:
the way you move
is in perfect
unison with
the perk
and pout
of your mouth
orating coded syllables
only I can make out. ~ Adrian Michael

I'm glad you still have your survival instinct."

"We've all got something." I lift my fingertips to the exposed skin on my face. It's colder than the night sea. Cupping my hands, I blow into them, let my breath warm my nose and cheeks. "I apparently still have a face, which is good."

Holden vaults up onto the wooden platform and I step up after him. "That is good," he says, pulling me in close. He lifts his gloved hands to my cheeks. "After all, this is one of my favorite faces."

I scrunch my lips into a pretend pout. "One of?"

He grins. "Well, you know. I'm a sucker for the classics. Helen of Troy, the Mona Lisa, that - "

"Hey. The Mona Lisa isn't even hot." I give him a little shove away from me, toward the edge of the platform.

"Disagree," Holden says. "She's beautiful in her own way. That mischievous smile, those dark, soulful eyes, the way she - "

"Fine, whatever." I cross my arms. "But I insist on being ranked above her."

"Okay, okay," Holden says. "Yours can be my second-favorite face . . . right after that guy from The Scream." He pulls me in close again.

"You're such an ass," I say, as our lips touch.

Holden laughs. "My girl Mona Lisa would never be so rude. ~ Paula Stokes

I think the quality of sexiness comes from within. It is something that is in you or it isn't and it really doesn't have much to do with breasts or thighs or the pout of your lips. ~ Sophia Loren

Smitty gave his best pout. "Why are y'all trying to hurt me?"
"Because it's fun?"
"It's easy."
"I love it when you cry."
Smitty sighed. "Forget I asked. ~ Shelly Laurenston

Spare us the pout, there's enough lip in the world without you adding to it. ~ Alan Bradley

If I'd been alone, I wouldn't have eaten at all. I'd have taken a shower, thrown on an oversize T-shirt, and gone to bed surrounded by a few select penguins. Now I had a fancy dinner to eat, by candlelight nonetheless. If I said I wasn't hungry, would he be insulted? Would he pout? Would he yell about all the work going to waste and tell me about starving kids in Southeast Asia? "Shit," I said softly and with feeling. Well, hell, if we ever were going to cohabitate, he'd have to know the truth. I was unsociable, and food was something you ate so you wouldn't die. I ~ Laurell K. Hamilton

Mother is the rock, I am the ocean. I have to pout and roll my eyes for hours until she finally wears down and crumbles into a thousand grains of beach sand. It takes a lot of energy. I don't think I have it in me. ~ Laurie Halse Anderson

She unwrapped the lamb chops from their white butcher paper and peeled a few potatoes and opened a can of peas. Her father came in with the newspaper under his arm and then swatted her on the hip with it as he went to the table to sit down. And then Jimmy came in still wearing his overcoat to say, "What's this? What's this?" And then told their father with his hands on his hips that George was taking "our miss here" out to dinner. And her father lowered the paper and smiled at her - his round, florid face and his sparse white hair which he no longer bothered to slick down with water or tonic, being mostly housebound and hardly out of his slippers all week long - and only began to pout a little, Jimmy too, when she set the plate of lamb chops and the mint jelly and the mashed potatoes and peas in their bowls on the table and then pulled off her apron and said, "I'm just going to take a shower." "Be sure to put it back," Jimmy said ~ Alice McDermott

You were never as much to blame as you thought," she told him softly.
A brief smile touched his lips. "That's what you say. But you're biased."
She shrugged. "Maybe a little. But I would never have agreed to marry you if I'd thought you capable of real wickedness. I wouldn't have risked having a child of mine suffer the same torments you and your siblings suffered."
Oliver went still. "And does this sudden mention of some future child have anything to do with your sneaking out of the house to consult with a physician this morning?"
She gaped at him. "You knew? How did you find out?"
"Believe me, angel, I know whenever you leave my bed." His eyes gleamed at her. "I feel the loss of it right here." He struck his heart dramatically.
"Aunt Rose spoke the truth about you," she grumbled. "You are a smooth-tongued devil. And apparently you read minds, as well."
He chuckled. "Your aunt simply cannot keep secrets. But to be honest, it's not been hard to notice how little interest you show in your breakfast these days, and how often you like to nap. I know the signs of a woman with child. I watched my mother go through them with four children."
"And here I was hoping to surprise you," she said with a pout. "I swear you are impossible to surprise."
"That's only because you used up all your surprises in the first hour of our meeting."
"How so?"
"By boldly threatening me with Freddy's sword. And by agreeing to my insane proposal. Then ~ Sabrina Jeffries

I haven't have fun for a long time," Kaia said with a pout.
"Me, either. Except with myself, but I don't suppose that counts."
"It does the way I do it. ~ Gena Showalter

A vast mirror hung above his desk, its gilt frame a horror of twisted vines and sharp leaves, angry looking foliage. I thought of it as Eden Lost. The first occasion I was alone in the room I stepped to the glass and touched my reflection with a finger. It was the only time I'd seen myself in a mirror, but the glass was so wavy I could have been staring into water. I was struck by how much my mouth tipped downward in a child's pout, and I hadn't realized I watched the world through my eyelashes. I didn't observe myself for very long. My eyes were the same shape as my mother's, curved like wings; watching them made me lonesome. ~ Susan Power

So the next time I see you will be at the tour."

"Yes."

I feel quite sad that I'm not going to see him for two weeks.

"Some best-friend you are," I pout, jokingly. "You do remember that in the contract for being my best friend it has a beck-and-call clause in it don't you. I mean what if I need … I don't know – chocolates from Belgium, who's gonna get them while you're off in LA. I don't know Jake, I might have to seriously consider trading you in," I grin.

He chuckles, amused. "Don't worry, I'll make sure you don't miss me."

"I never said I'd miss you."

"You never said you wouldn't."

God, he's so bloody quick. I'm getting whip-lash just sitting here with him.

"I just want you for your cupcakes ~ Samantha Towle

The panther prowled around me in a loose, wide circle. Its mouth turned down, almost in a pout, and it seemed disappointed that I wasn't going to run away. Or scream, at the very least. Its tail, which was at least three feet long, twitched back and forth in what seemed to be annoyance. Or maybe anticipation. I didn't know. I'd always been more of a dog person.
I cleared my throat, and the panther stopped and flicked up one of its rounded ears. Listening.
Um, nice kitty? ~ Jennifer Estep

I merely took the energy it takes to pout and wrote some blues. ~ Duke Ellington

For the record, if you tried to make me wait for oral sex, I'd be tempted to kill someone."

"Then it's a good thing you got yours."

Her pout turned to a mischievous grin. "You're just waiting to get head at work, aren't you? ~ Meghan March

Bright green eyes peered at her from underneath long lashes that curled toward Saturn. Despite the so very pretty eyes, he had a strong face with sharp angles that cast shadows from the harsh overhead cargo light. A slight overbite gave the impression of a permanent pout. Dark curls tumbled lazily from his head to his shoulders.
In one word: gorgeous.
Another word: dangerous. ~ Aria Kane

Once I had finished conducting business with Herr Kassl, I went in search of my sister. Käthe was easy to find, even in this sea of faces in the square. Her smiles were the broadest, her blue eyes the brightest, her pink cheeks the rosiest. Even her hair beneath that ridiculous hat shone like a bird of golden plumage. All I had to do was follow the path traced by the eyes of the onlookers in the village, those admiring, appreciative glances that led me straight to my sister at the center.
For a moment, I watched her bargain and haggle with the sellers. Käthe was like an actress on the stage, all heightened emotion and intense passion, her gestures affected, her smiles calculated. She fluttered and flirted outrageously, carefully oblivious to the stares she drew like moths to the flame. Both men and women traced the lines of her body, the curve of her cheek, the pout of her lip.
Looking at Käthe, it was difficult to forget just how sinful our bodies were, just how prone we were to wickedness. Born unto trouble, as the sparks fly upward, or so saith Job. Clothed in clinging fabrics, with every line of her body exposed, every gasp of pleasure unconcealed, everything about Käthe suggested voluptuousness. ~ S. Jae-Jones

I pulled out a large white T-shirt with black gothic script that read, "Equipe Edward"
"Adele, how many times do I have to tell you?" he said in a very serious tone. "Vampires do not sparkle."
"Okay, fine." I pretended to pout. "I'll give it to someone else."
"No, you will not!" He yanked the T-shirt out of my reach. "Sparkles or not, I am still Team Edward. ~ Alys Arden

You can pout about the way the world is as long as you want, but that's not going to change it. You've got to figure it out. ~ Ariel Pink

I said, ask."
"Nicely?" Justin enquired.
"I doubt you're capable of nicely outside the seance room."
Justin bared his teeth, then let himself go languid in the chair, raising his arms behind his head. "Oh, Mr. Roy," he murmured through a shameless pout. "Please, sir, I've the wickedest spirits upon me. I'm quite at their mercy." He hooked a leg behind one of Nathaniel's powerful thighs. "I can't help myself, sir, I'm consumed by their influences." He tugged Nathaniel's hand to his chest, sliding his fingers between shirt buttons. "Oh! Oh, sir, is it a spirit hand I can feel on me?"
"If you don't stop talking like that - "
"Please sir, drive them out of me," Justin begged. "I can't control myself."
"Are you going to stop it?"
"I can't," Justin panted. "I'm a slave to the lower spirits. Oh, the things they want me to do to you. Filthy, terrible things, sir. ~ K.J. Charles

A drunken party girl and her equally drunken escort got onto the elevator at that moment. The girl spotted Drake and lurched toward him, an inviting smile on her face as she thrust her barely concealed breasts at him. "Hello, handsome. Would you hold me against you if I told you it was beautiful?"

I pushed myself between her and Drake. "He's very handsome, isn't he? And verytaken."

"Fat bitch," she snapped, sulking for a moment until she spotted Pál. Her companion slouched against the wall of the elevator, too far gone to care, I guess.

The door opened at our floor and we exited, leaving the drunken woman to pout as Pál avoided her grasp. I stopped just outside the door, pulled on Drake's fire, and set alight a ring at her feet. She shrieked and flapped her arms wildly as the doors started to close. I drew a quick ward on them, and before the outer doors blocked my way, mentally stamped out the fire. I turned to find Drake watching me with crossed arms and a cocked eyebrow.

"What?" I asked, trying unsuccessfully to bat my eyelashes at him.

"You locked them in there with fire?"

"There was a fire extinguisher," I said. "Of course, she's probably too drunk to notice it or know how to use it, but that's hardly my problem."

Drake continued to give me the Eyebrow of Much Displeasure.

"There were sprinklers as well. They're sure to go off at some point…oh, for heaven's sake, Drake! What sort of p ~ Katie MacAlister

Much to the scientists' surprise, the men, after seeing an emotional face for just one fifth of a second - so briefly that it was still unconscious - were more emotionally reactive than the women. But it's what happened to the men's facial muscles next that helped me explain Neil's guy face to Danielle. As the experiment proceeded, at 2.5 seconds, well into the range of conscious processing, the men's facial muscles became less emotionally responsive than the women's. The researchers concluded that the men consciously - or at least semiconsciously - suppressed showing their emotions on their faces. Meanwhile, the women's facial muscles became more emotionally responsive after 2.5 seconds. According to the researchers, this suggests that men have trained themselves, perhaps since childhood, to automatically turn off or disguise facial emotions. The females' expressions not only continued to mirror the emotion they were seeing on the face in the photo, but they automatically exaggerated it, from a grin to a big smile or from a subtle frown to a pout. They, too, had been practicing this since childhood. ~ Louann Brizendine

I would cry after losses when I was a kid and pout. But I played like that. ~ Jon Beason

Women blow my mind. The stuff that routinely gets done to them would make most men curl up and die, but women turn to steel and keep on coming. Any man who claims he's not into strong women is fooling himself mindless: he's into strong women who know how to pout prettily and put on baby voices, and who will ~ Tana French

People like to cry over spilled milk, but I cry every time I spill my coffee. ~ Anthony Liccione

My thick and full lips shall pout their African ancestry until all sorrows are kissed out of me. ~ Gloria D. Gonsalves

Hermes had said, the giant was about ten feet tall, which made him small compared to some other giants I'd seen. But Cacus made up for it by being bright and gaudy. He had curly orange hair, pale skin, and orange freckles. His face was smeared upward with a permanent pout, upturned nose, wide eyes, and arched eyebrows, so he appeared both startled and unhappy. He wore a red velour housecoat with matching slippers. The housecoat was open, revealing silky Valentine-patterned boxer shorts and luxurious chest hair of a red/pink/orange color not found in nature. Annabeth made a small gagging sound. It's the ginger giant. ~ Rick Riordan

When my daughter was a toddler, I used to take her to a park not far from our apartment. One day as she was playing in a sandbox, an ice-cream salesman approached us. I purchased her a treat, and when I turned to give it to her, I saw her mouth was full of sand. Where I had intended to put a delicacy, she had put dirt.

Did I love her with dirt in her mouth? Absolutely. Was she any less of my daughter with dirt in her mouth? Of course not. Was I going to allow her to keep the dirt in her mouth? No way. I loved her right where she was, but I refused to leave her there. I carried her over to the water fountain and washed out her mouth. Why? Because I love her.

God does the same for us. He holds us over the fountain. "Spit out the dirt, honey," our Father urges. "I've got something better for you." And so he cleanses us of filth; immorality, dishonesty, prejudice, bitterness, greed. We don't enjoy the cleansing; sometimes we even opt for the dirt over the ice cream. "I can eat dirt if I want to!" we pout and proclaim. Which is true - we can. But if we do, the loss is ours. God has a better offer. ~ Max Lucado