Pressing Quotes

The silence was deafening, pressing more heavily on Hollyleaf's ears than the stones that pinned her to the cold floor. ~ Erin Hunter

Instead of pressing, with the foremost of the crowd, into the palace of Constantinople, Libanius calmly expected his arrival at Antioch; withdrew from court on the first symptoms of coldness and indifference; required a formal invitation for each visit; and taught his sovereign an important lesson, that he might command the obedience of a subject, but that he must deserve the attachment of a friend. ~ Edward Gibbon

Most humans expressed affection by pressing their lips together, a simple act, so why would anyone feel the need to research the process? ~ Melissa Landers

Every accountable child of God needs to set goals, short- and long-range goals. A man who is pressing forward to accomplish worthy goals can soon put despondency under his feet, and once a goal is accomplished, others can be set up. ~ Ezra Taft Benson

I can make your girlfriend scream louder than you ever could just by pressing her follow button. ~ Harry Styles

Or perhaps we should just ask Todd."
I pound the glass right at his face. He doesn't even flinch.
And then she says, "Todd would never tell you. Never."
And the Mayor just looks at me.
And he smiles

My stomach sinks, my heart drops, my head feels so light I feel like I'm going to drop right to the ground.
Oh, Viola-
Viola, please-
Forgive me.
"Captain Hammar," the Mayor says and Viola's plunged into the water again, unable to not scream out in fright as down she goes.
"NO!" I shout, pressing myself against the mirror.
But the Mayor ain't even looking at her.
He's looking right at me, as if he could see me even if I was behind a brick wall.
"STOP IT!" I shout as she's thrashing again-
And more-
And more-
"VIOLA!"
And I'm pounding even tho my hands are breaking-
And Mr. Hammar is grinning and holding her there-
"VIOLA!"
And her wrist are starting to bleed from where she's pulling-
"I'LL KILL YOU!"-
I'm shouting into the Mayor's face-
With all my Noise-
"I'LL KILL YOU!"-
And still holding her there-
"VIOLA! VIOLA!"-
But it's Davy-
Of all people-
It's Davy who stops it. ~ Patrick Ness

Hello?" I peered into the shadows.
Two green circles flashed in the dark. I yelped, jumping backward and pressing myself against the wall.
"And may I wish a very good morning to you, too, October." The voice was amused, underscored by a chuckle like thick cream. "What happened? Did the prettiest little princess miss her carriage home? ~ Seanan McGuire

Oh antic God
return to me
my mother in her thirties
leaned across the front porch
the huge pillow of her breasts
pressing against the rail
summoning me in for bed.
I am almost the dead woman's age times two.
I can barely recall her song
the scent of her hands
though her wild hair scratches my dreams
at night. return to me, oh Lord of then
and now, my mother's calling,
her young voice humming my name. ~ Lucille Clifton

PIANO, n. A parlor utensil for subduing the impenitent visitor. It is operated by pressing the keys of the machine and the spirits of the audience. ~ Ambrose Bierce

Pressing the gun against his forehead, I locked eyes with his chaotic gaze. He begged me silently. He pleaded wordlessly. And no compassion filled me.

I hope you burn forever. ~ Pepper Winters

The most pressing problem facing America can't be solved in Washington DC. True hope and change can't be found at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. It can only be found at the foot of the cross on Calvary. ~ Todd Starnes

That's it. I had enough of your abuse," Tristan said, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me back down on the bed. I screamed as he tackled me. We wrestled back and forth, laughing. I found his tickle spot giving me the advantage, but he was fast and kept getting the upper hand. He had me pinned with my arms above my head and his body pressing down on mine. I stopped resisting, but he didn't let go. He was panting and smiling over his victory. He stared deep into my eyes making my heart race. ~ Jessica Miller

Don't you dare. Don't you run away from me." He holds me tight, his fingers pressing into my back. "I'm listening. You're not Ariel. Then what should I call you? I don't care. I'll love you no matter what name you want me to use. ~ Stacey Jay

That Asian guy is really good at kicking. Shocking. Someone is pressing 'A' really fast somewhere. ~ Daniel Tosh

I won't trouble you long," said Maricara. "No doubt you have all manner of pressing plans to consider. Spies to engage. Betrayals to enact. That sort of thing."
"Only on Sundays," Kim replied. "It's Tuesday. We're discussing stealing sweetmeats from small children today. ~ Shana Abe

There is only one world the world pressing against you this minute. ~ Storm Jameson

Insulated from natural contacts with earth, air and sunlight, by corsets pressing on the solar plexus, by voluminous petticoats, cotton stockings and kid boots, the drowsy well-fed girls lounging in the shade were no more a part of their environment than figures in a photograph album, arbitrarily posed against a backcloth of cork rocks and cardboard trees. ~ Joan Lindsay

The ocean turns cold, dark, pressing around me, but the deeper I go the more the iron inside of me twists and pulls and I know that I'm tethered to the boat, that even now the men pull the rope tighter and drag me back to the surface. ~ Kendall Kulper

Maybe there is something when it all ends. Maybe there is memory, memory of the person you loved, when you lived. Maybe this is the white-light-tunnel deal, and I'm pressing toward it, and it's pressing back, until we become the same thing. ~ Kate Ellison

Determined secularists view these as residual inconsistencies that they have not yet go around to extirpating and that may not be worth bothering about ... Form the secularist perspective it may be that the essential battles have been won and excessive zeal in pressing a final mopping-up operation might only excited further public hostility. ~ Richard John Neuhaus

I hear footsteps and Four's hands wrap around my wrists. I let him pry my hands from my eyes. He encloses one of my hands perfectly between two of his. The warmth of his skin overwhelms the ache in my fingers from holding the bars. "You all right?" he asks, pressing our hands together.
"Yeah."
He starts to laugh. ~ Veronica Roth

I promise you that I want to do this more than anything else in the world," he said, pressing his lips to the corner of my mouth." I have wanted to since you first returned, but I thought giving you time would be prudent."
"And here I was, thinking you would have rather slept in a pool of lava than with me," I joked, but it wasn't enti false. I gave him a quick kiss in return. "We need to work on this whole talking to each other thing. We'd get a lot more done if we did."
"Yes, we would" he said before capturing my lips once more. ~ Aimee Carter

Pulling my hand away, he rose, slanting his head to kiss me deeply as he pushed me onto my back, with his weight draped over me. "I've never had anything that was my own," he said against my mouth. "Nothing that was ever for just me and no one else. I've never been anyone's first." He kissed me and then lifted his head. I stared into his eyes. "I've never been anyone's only."
That made my heart ache for him as I raised my hand, pressing my palm against his cheek. "You're my first," I whispered. "You're ... you're my only."
His lips parted. "You can't say that and not mean it."
I held his gaze as my chest swelled. "I mean it."
He smoothed his thumb over my lip. "I really am a lucky son of a bitch. ~ Jennifer L. Armentrout

To be fair, if we had married then, who knows what would have become of us? I doubt I would have liked your running about the country as a spy, leaving me alone for weeks at a time. And I daresay you would have had trouble concentrating on your work for worrying about me."
His grateful smile showed that he appreciated her attempt to mitigate his betrayal.
"Of course, later you could have…well…come after me. Once you established your business. While I was still un-betrothed. Why didn't you?"
"I don't suppose you would accept rampant idiocy as a reason?"
"I would…if I really thought it were the reason." When he stiffened, she added archly, "You aren't generally an idiot. Daft and a tad overbearing, yes, but not an idiot."
A sigh escaped him. He leaned past her to pull the curtain open just enough so he could keep an eye on the street.
When it looked as if he might not answer, she added, "Tristan thinks you didn't come after me because you were afraid that I couldn't love you."
He cast her a startled glance. "You told Tristan the truth about us?"
She winced. "And Lisette and Max. Sorry. Tristan sort of…forced it out of me."
"Well, that explains why Max and Lisette were willing to bring you here in the midst of such a crucial investigation. They've been pressing me for a long time to give you another chance. Because they thought you betrayed me."
Grabbing her hands, he gazed down at them with a haunted look. "And I suppose there's ~ Sabrina Jeffries

You're insane," I told him, and stood up to dress.
He hugged me from behind, pressing hard against me, rubbing his smooth chest along my back. He spoke into my ear, "Insane for you, my love. ~ R.K. Lilley

Don't go all mushy on me," I warn him, half-kidding. "Baby," he says, kissing my chin and pressing his weight on me. "Have you felt how hard I am? There ain't a mushy bone in me. ~ Karina Halle

She'd filled twelve notebooks and still she hadn't stopped. Indeed, the more she wrote, the louder the stories seemed to grow, swirling in her mind, pressing against her head, anxious for release. She didn't know whether they were any good and in truth she didn't care. They were hers, and writing made them real somehow. ~ Kate Morton

Tits. Ass. Cock. I know those words, Mason, and I know you think I'm so deeply prissy and vanilla but I'm actually a big girl, so you can go ahead and use them on me."…
"You want it then?" His mutter was raspy and low and his eyes burned so deep into mine I felt paralyzed before he even spoke. "Fine, Taylor," he whispered, pressing his hand down hard on my thigh. "You walked in here and the first thing I thought of was how goddamned good you looked and how bad I wanted to rip that dress off those perfect tits of yours. I thought about what you'd look like in those boots and those boots alone and it turned me into a fucking crazy person for a second because I had some very real thoughts about grabbing you, taking you home and fucking you on my bed till I could hear those pretty lips screaming my name. does that get the point across or do you want to hear just how hard and deep I imagined my cock inside you."
Holy fuck.
Just like that, panties ruined. ~ Stella Rhys

His hand touches my waist, steadies me. The touch sends a shock through my body, and all my insides burn like his fingers ignited them. I pull close to him, pressing my body against his, and lift my head to kiss him. ~ Veronica Roth

I'll teach you not to look at me like that," Charles snarled through his hair before pushing it off his face. "Do you think I didn't notice? The way you look at me when you think I'm not watching?"
Oh, God!
He had to get out of there. Slip out of his grip as soon as possible, before he lost control of his body. He was already feeling it in his groin - the fire Rochester had lit was already making his balls throb.
His reply was desperate, a whisper, a tiny, brazen lie: "You're mistaken."
"Oh, that's how it is, then? You have the nerve to tell me it's not true?" The next moment he felt something firm pressing against his buttocks. Something hot and shameless. Charles's rock-hard erection.
Dorian's lips parted in a surprised moan. The air escaped his lungs and treacherous arousal rose all the way to his throat, breaking his voice and his willpower.
"No…" I don't know. "I didn't mean to. I wasn't spying on you on purpose."
"But you did. You always do. ~ Valentina C. Brin

I reach out and take her spastic hand, pressing the forefinger of my free hand to her lips. "Shhh." She stops talking immediately. Yes, I could've shut her up a hundred different ways without touching her, but I figure this is better than kissing her, which is what I really want to do.
Good God, how I want to kiss her! ~ Michelle Leighton

Few needs are more pressing, or more deserving of our attention, than taking care of the men and women of the U.S. armed forces. ~ Bill Richardson

It will be as if I'd never existed. The words ran through my head, lacking the perfect clarity of my hallucination last night. They were just words, soundless, like print on a page. Just words, but they ripped the hole wide open, and I stomped on the brake, knowing I should not drive while this incapacitated.
I curled over, pressing my face against the steering wheel and trying to breathe without lungs. ~ Stephenie Meyer

The longer I live, the more I am convinced that the apothecary is of more importance than Seneca; and that half the unhappiness in the world proceeds from little stoppages; from a duct choked up, from food pressing in the wrong place, from a vexed duodenum, or an agitated pylorus. ~ Sydney Smith

Eden Ashe > Quotes > Quotable Quote(edit)
"She shifted in his pocket, pressing her back against his chest. "It's iron."

Instead of walking into the elevator, he glanced down at her. If he kept craning his neck this way, he was going to have a hell of a nasty headache by the time he made it home. Not to mention the looks he was getting from his taff for talking to himself, he was going to end up in a psych hold if this kept up...."

"We're on the tenth floor. I'm not taking the damn stairs...."

"...I'm not talking to myself. I have a fairy in my pocket who's afraid of elevators. ~ Eden Ashe

He liked the clover, evidence of the country always pressing in close, quietly sabotaging anyone who tried to manicure nature into suburban submission. ~ Helen Simonson

This was why I did what I
did," she whispered. "I looked at those men at the ball, and I thought of that night in the carriage when
you touched me, and I knew I could never let any of them touch me." She tilted her head back and
closed her eyes, pressing his hands to her breasts. "Only you. ~ Laura Lee Guhrke

Officially, the New Testament church at an early stage took seriously their responsibility for widows who lacked family or other resources. The office of deacon was instituted initially to address this pressing need. ~ Carolyn Custis James

The endurance mood is the suppression of pain. Pressing ahead towards achieving the ultimate goal. ~ Lailah Gifty Akita

We're built of contradictions, all of us. It's those opposing forces that give us strength, like an arch, each block pressing the next. Give me a man whose parts are all aligned in agreement and I'll show you madness. We walk a narrow path, insanity to each side. A man without contradictions to balance him will soon veer off. ~ Mark Lawrence

He threw her a crooked grin as he removed his shirt completely, revealing a torso that seemed too perfectly muscular and finely honed to be real. Unbearable tension knotted inside her, and she struggled with inhibition and modesty as he bent over her. "Shall I stop now?" he asked, cuddling her against his long body. "I don't want to frighten you."
Her cheek pressed against his shoulder, and she relished the exhilarating sensation of pressing her bare skin against his. She had never felt so vulnerable, so willing to be vulnerable. "I'm not afraid," she said, her voice dazed and wondering, and she withdrew her hands from between their bodies, so that her breasts pushed directly against his chest.
An aching sound came from his throat, and he buried his face against her throat, kissing her, working his way downward. ~ Lisa Kleypas

It happens," he repeated. "For people like us, baby. It happens, eventually. Just as long as we hold on." She liked that. She showed it with her pretty brown eyes. She showed it by pressing closer. She showed it by wrapping both arms around his neck. Finally, she showed it by rolling up further and taking his mouth. And he liked that. So he showed her too. While she was taking his, he took hers. And with that - as they did and as they'd continue to do - together, Cher Rivers and Garrett Merrick successfully weathered yet another storm. ~ Kristen Ashley

I love you too, you know."

His kiss turns into a smile. "Yeah?"

"I've probably loved you longer."

A trickster grin. "Probably."

I pinch his splendid ass for that and he growls, pressing into me. ~ Christina Lauren

She felt like backing into his crotch and pressing her back into his chest. And then maybe rubbing against him a little. ~ Jessica Lemmon

Thirty seconds after the explosion came first, the air blast pressing hard against people and things, to be followed almost immediately by the strong, sustained, awesome roar which warned of doomsday and made us feel that we puny things were blasphemous to dare tamper with the forces heretofore reserved to the Almighty. ~ Cynthia C. Kelly

No one begs you to be a poet or write a 1000-page poem. You have to be fueled by a drive, a conviction - a need, a necessity, a vision that is so pressing that it has no other outlet but through you. That doesn't mean that you are unconscious or in trance, but there can be moments like that. ~ Anne Waldman

She placed her palm over his wound, pressing as hard as she dared.
She would stop the blood.
She would hold him and stop his life from escaping.
She would hold life inside him and he wouldn't die ~ Michael Grant

I lean forward, pressing my lips to his, and it breaks me open. His hand leaves my face and traces notes up my arms, strikes chords on my throat and up into my hair. His mouth forms lyrics that expose my soul.

The kiss is like a song played only once. And forever. ~ Katherine Longshore

Once, standing in an open space, he'd seen a commercial airliner pass overhead, on its way from one country to another, the sun golden upon its wings. It seemed incredible to him that there were people inside, drinking wine and eating from plastic trays, pressing a button for the hostess. Did they have any idea what was going on directly below them, a nation devouring itself? He felt like a drowning man watching a ship sail by. ~ Aminatta Forna

The raised voice that surprises me, however, belongs to Nash. I creep to the door and crack it the tiniest bit, turning my head and pressing my ear to it.
You are a shameless, creepy eavesdropping hussy. ~ Michelle Leighton

What are these?" Maxon asked, brushing across the tips of my fingers as we walked.
"Calluses. They're from pressing down on violin strings four hours a day."
"I've never noticed them before."
"Do they bother you?" I was the lowest caste of the six girls left, and I doubted any of them had hands like mine.
Maxon stopped moving and lifted my fingers to his lips, kissing the tiny, worn tips.
"On the contrary. I find them rather beautiful." I felt myself blush. "I've seen the world – admittedly mostly through bulletproof glass or from the tower of some ancient castle – but I've seen it. And I have access to the answers of a thousand questions at my disposal. But this small hand here?" He looked deeply into my eyes. "This hand makes sounds incomparable to anything I've ever heard. Sometimes I think I only dreamed that I heard you play the violin, it was so beautiful. These calluses are proof that it was real. ~ Kiera Cass

"I am so sorry, Joe," he whispered, gently pushing her hair away from her face and neck. "I know I keep fucking up," he said, pressing a kiss to her neck, "and that by all rights you should bitch slap me, but I can't stand the idea of you getting hurt."
His hand found its way to her panty clad hip and gave her a gentle squeeze. "It kills me to think of what could have happened that night, Joe," he explained softly as he pressed another kiss to her neck. "Do you have any idea how lost I would be without you?"
"You're my entire world, Joe," he said, pressing another kiss to her neck, this time lingering. "I don't know what I'd do without," he said against her skin. ~ R.L. Mathewson

There were many things he had to tell her, but what he really needed to say was simple. "I've missed you so much and ache to see you again. Every moment of the day no matter what else I'm doing you're in my thoughts. I want to … need to see you again.
Please come to me."
Pressing pencil to paper, he wrote. "See me. 7. Jim." He thought a moment and added "Livery Stable" just as it was printed on the sign above the door of the building.
Folding the paper, he wrote "Miss Johnson" on the outside. ~ Bonnie Dee

How this life speeds right by, the odometer forgetting how fast it sped. Grinding the foot and pressing the metal, not counting road side markers ahead ~ S.L. Northey

Well, finally, once you become an orphan, you're an orphan till the day you die. I keep having the same dream. I'm seven years old and an orphan again. All alone, with no adults around to take care of me. It's evening, and the light is fading, and night is pressing in. It's always the same. In the dream I always go back to being seven years old. Software like that you can't exchange once it's contaminated. ~ Haruki Murakami

Sometimes she'd just walk around the city alone. Watch the people, smell the food, the bus exhaust, the smoke coming up through the grating. She'd feel protected somehow, found a sense of belonging in the hectic sprawl. And the next minute she'd feel like the one who couldn't break the code, hit the right stride, catch the wave. Potholes and traffic and bums, oh my. With all the honking and the hum of movement, the living, breathing blur of noise gently pressing in on her, the great purr of the Metropolitan Cat turning into a dull roar. She'd feel so silent on the inside, her head as quiet as a stretch of sand, a cathedral silently worshipping the life that was all around her, storing it up for later when she needed some 'too much' to draw upon. ~ Carrie Fisher

She crooned, twining her legs around his, pressing her forehead to his breastbone. It was all he needed. Easing her backward, supporting her until she lay upon his desk, he pumped into her in aching need while his heart threatened to burst inside and his pulse almost drowned out the praise and the most sacred of promises that he whispered in the language of his fathers. Telling her how hot arguing with her made him, how proud he was of how she stood up to him, he held her gaze while he took her, and even as she coalesced around him again, drawing him into the surging power of her heartbeat, her ultimate pleasure. ~ Jennifer Blake

Look carefully through all the claims pressing upon you in your complicated life, and decide once and for all what it is that is the one really important and overmastering duty in it, and should be the one dominating aim. Then remember that if you succeed in that, the others, so multifarious, are really no more than the fringe of the garment, and that you need not spend so much anxiety over them, provided that the one most important is faithfully attended to. ~ Anna Brackett

What we make happen for someone else, God will make happen for us. Do you sometimes find yourself wishing you had more encouragement, maybe from your family or friends or boss? But how often do you encourage others? If you're not sure, then make an extra effort right away. You can be the channel that God uses to keep someone confidently pressing toward success rather than giving up. ~ Joyce Meyer

Romeo wants Juliet as the filings want the magnet; and if no obstacles intervene he moves towards her by as straight a line as they. But Romeo and Juliet, if a wall be built between them, do not remain idiotically pressing their faces against its opposite sides like the magnet and the filings with the card. Romeo soon finds a circuitous way, by scaling the wall or otherwise, of touching Juliet's lips directly. With the filings the path is fixed; whether it reaches the end depends on accidents. With the lover it is the end which is fixed, the path may be modified indefinitely. ~ William James

We do not need to plan or devise a "world of the future"; if we take care of the world of the present, the future will have received full justice from us. A good future is implicit in the soils, forests, grasslands, marshes, deserts, mountains, rivers, lakes, and oceans that we have now, and in the good things of human culture that we have now; the only valid "futurology" available to us is to take care of those things. We have no need to contrive and dabble at "the future of the human race"; we have the same pressing need that we have always had - to love, care for, and teach our children.
(pg. 73, "Feminism, the Body, and the Machine") ~ Wendell Berry

When Ralf Rangnick was in charge, you could see he was out to force a pressing game. ~ Dietmar Hopp

That is why my first and most pressing question seems like such an outright act of mutiny. What I want to know is, since when does making art require participation in any community, beyond the intense participation that the art itself is undertaking? Since when am I not contributing to the community if all I want to do is make the art itself? Isn't the art itself my intimate communication with others, with the world, with the unfolding spectacle of the human struggle as we live and coexist on this earth? ~ Meghan Tifft

As you know, you go to war with the army you have, not the army you might want or wish to have at a later time. Since the Iraq conflict began, the Army has been pressing ahead to produce the armor necessary at a rate that they believe
it's a greatly expanded rate from what existed previously, but a rate that they believe is the rate that is all that can be accomplished at this moment. ~ Donald Rumsfeld

A brick could be used for pressing grapes into wine, and a magician could then cover up that wine with a blanket and turn wine into water. ~ Jarod Kintz

Michael," she whispered, wishing he would kiss her. "I love the way you say my name. You're the only one who calls me Michael," he said, before he gave her what she wanted, his tongue stroking deep and smooth until she was squirming in his arms, pressing her breasts into his magic hands. "You hated it," she protested. "You've worn me down. ~ Sarah MacLean

Here, too, I recognized-easily, from firsthand experience, since this kind of thing happened at my age-the heat of the moment, the very instant you knew you should be feeling something but, for various reasons, partly due to inexperience, partly to a desynchronized, muddled teenage constitution, this emotion, however hard you tried to express it, stayed uncomfortably stuck in your heart, only half there and only half felt, just like my love for that girl across the street, the feeling I was trying to coax out of myself the way you might squeeze a toothpaste tube you'd decided to roll from the bottom up but that, distracted, and in a rush, you finally ended up pressing any which way. ~ Jean-Christophe Valtat

Show Republicans a shiny pro-life or pro-marriage issue and they'd much rather address that controversial topic than keep pressing on the tyranny that Obamacare represents. ~ Ben Shapiro

Our most pressing obligation is to do all in our power to obtain a revival that will result in a reformed, revitalized, purified church. Each generation of Christians is the seed of the next, and degenerate seed is sure to produce a degenerate harvest. ~ Aiden Wilson Tozer

At the Unitarian Universalist Christmas pageant in Cambridge, Massachusetts, it didn't matter that Mary insisted on keeping her nails painted black or that Joseph had come out of the closet. On December 25 at seven and nine p.m., three wise women would follow the men down the aisle -- one wearing a kimono and another, African garb; instead of myrrh they would bring chicken soup, instead of frankincense they'd play lullabies. The shepherds had a line on protecting the environment and the innkeeper held a foreclosure sign. No one quite believed in God and no one quite didn't -- so they made it about the songs and the candles and the pressing together of bodies on lacquered wooden pews. ~ Marina Keegan

Even at the age of eight she would fall asleep by pressing one hand into the other and making believe she was holding the hand of the man whom she loved, the man of her life. So if in her sleep she pressed Tomas hand with such tenacity, we can understand why: she had been training since childhood. ~ Milan Kundera

Here's a tip though', he told me, leaning over and pressing a hand into my shoulder. 'If you want to improve your time, run faster. ~ John Boyne

The pressure in the airlock grew, and the folds of her suit found every raised scar across her body, wrinkles pressing where wrinkles had once burned. It was a million pricks from a million gentle needles, every sensitive part of her touched all at once, as if this airlock remembered, as if it knew her. A lover's apology. ~ Hugh Howey

Alexander - " "Now that it's morning, I'm suddenly Alexander again?" Gazing up at him, Tatiana whispered, "Oh, Shura ... " And Alexander could no longer bear it. He bent to her face and kissed her. Her lips were as soft and young and full as he had imagined them to be. Tatiana's whole body started to tremble as she kissed him back with such tenderness, such passion, such need that Alexander involuntarily emitted a small groan. He was bewildered by her hands pressing his head into hers and not letting go. "Oh, God ... " he whispered into her parted mouth. ~ Paullina Simons

But the real cause was, that the people, in electing their representatives to the grand council, were particular in choosing them for their talents at talking, without inquiring whether they possessed the more rare, difficult, and oft-times important talent of holding their tongues. The consequence was, that this deliberative body was composed of the most loquacious men in the community. As they considered themselves placed there to talk, every man concluded that his duty to his constituents, and, what is more, his popularity with them, required that he should harangue on every subject, whether he understood it or not. There was an ancient mode of burying a chieftain, by every soldier throwing his shield full of earth on the corpse, until a mighty mound was formed; so, whenever a question was brought forward in this assembly, every member pressing forward to throw on his quantum of wisdom, the subject was quickly buried under a mountain of words. ~ Washington Irving

Sometimes I can still sleep it off, my fear. My dreams are gentle now even when they are about being mugged, robbed and knocked down, even when I am pressing my car key into a bit of yielding earth. But often in the afternoons I wake after a nap with an awful sense of its being over and that it never meant much; I never had a life. The valuable sweetness and the hard work are infected by the fact of death: they no longer seem to have been so wonderful, but they are all I had. And then I want to be comforted. I want my old, unthreatening forms of silence, and comedy-and-cowardice. I want breath and stories and the world. ~ Harold Brodkey

Pressing where you're not invited seems to be a habit with you."
"And yours is to put people in their place. But people aren't gaming pieces. You can't arrange them to suit yourself."
A librarian coughed.
"Lower your voice," Kestrel hissed at Arin. "Stop being so--"
"Inconvenient?"
"Frankly, yes."
His smile came: quick, true, surprised by itself. Then changing, and slow. "I could be worse."
"I am sure."
"I could tell you how."
"Arin, how is it for you here, in the capital?"
He held her gaze. "I would rather talk about what we were talking about. ~ Marie Rutkoski

The first beginning and its inceptuality The first beginning is the act of beginning in the sense of the disconcealing of disconcealment, but thus the emergence into the constancy of disconcealment in unconcealedness, but thus the appearing forth of the latter in the act of appearing, but thus the pressing forth of appearing as appearance, but thus the subjugation of unconcealedness, but thus the relinquishment of the inceptuality of the beginning, but thus the abandonment of the beginning to the advancement, but thus the commencement of the truth of being as the beingness of beings, but thus the priority of beings themselves as that which in the proper sense is present prior to presence. There is no "dialectic" here at all, neither that of being nor even that of the thinking about being. Essentially occurring here is the beginning of the first beginning and nothing besides this act of beginning. Recollection into this is already appropriation. ~ Martin Heidegger

Gerald, through an act of silent will, imposed on his father the pressing obligation to perform his final acts of expiation for abandoning the family. You will not know, the child silently said, what these acts are until you have performed them all. And after you have performed them you will not understand that they were expiatory any more than you have understood all the other expiation that has kept you in such prolonged humiliation. Then, when these final acts are complete, you will stop trying to die because of me. ~ William Kennedy

I sat on a bench and did what, as a girl, I had done whenever I needed to calm myself: instead of pressing the button with the number 4 on it, I let myself go up to the sixth floor. That space had been empty and dark for many years, ever since the lawyer who had his office there had left, taking with him even the light bulb from the landing. When the elevator stopped, I let my breath glide into my stomach and then return slowly to my throat. As always, after a few seconds, the light in the elevator went out, too. I thought of reaching my hand out to one of the door handles: you had only to pull it and the light would return. But I didn't move and continued to send my breath deep into my body. The only sound was that of the woodworms eating into the panelled walls.

Just a few months earlier (five, six?), on a sudden impulse, I had revealed to my mother, during one of my brief visits, that as an adolescent I used to retreat to that secret place, and I brought her up there, to the top. Maybe I wanted to try to establish an intimacy that there had never been, maybe I wanted to let her know in some confused way that I had always been unhappy. But she seemed to me only amused by the fact that I had sat suspended in the void, in a dilapidated elevator. ~ Elena Ferrante

On the concept of unity- "Thatʼs right-Jesusʼ most pressing concern before
leaving the earth was our unity. He was looking ahead, to every generation of
believer. And as he prayed, he made it clear that our witness as his body in this
fractured , messed-up, chaotic world would depend on our love for another. ~ Ed Galisewski

The Liberals have been pressing for the brief on the basis of which he said there was authority for war. ~ Clare Short

You were supposed to be on that elevator with him," Tristan said from behind us. "If you don't make it to the car before he does, believe me, he will drop the both of you on the spot"
Atticus and I glanced at each for a second, before I took off my heels and bolted towards the stairs.
"Are you insane? There are at least 60 flights of stairs!" Atticus yelled after me, but I ignored him, running as quickly as I could.
AsI reached the 49th level, Ipushed open the door and dashed towards the elevator, pressing the botton over and over again, as if my life depended on it.
"Ma'am?" a security guard asked, coming towards me. Fortunately, the doors opened, and sure enough there was Levi reading his paper.
"I work for him!" I shouted, pointing to Levi, as I jumped inside.
He looked up at me, confused as I entered gasping.
"I would have been more impressed if you ran down all of the stairs," he said, no longer interested in me. As I stood there trying to catch my breath, he continued reading.
"Fuck you"
"Excuse me?" he turned back to look at me, his eyes narrowing.
"Achoo," I sneezed. "Excuse me," I lied and he knew it, but I put my heels back on anyway.
"Where's Atticus?" he asked as the doors opened.
"I don't know maybe he just isn't hungry for-" I stopped, seeing Atticus already standing at the car door.
Levi looked back to me. "He wins. ~ J.J. McAvoy

I took the steps down Angel's Flight to Hill Street: a hundred and forty steps, with tight fists, frightened of no man, but scared of the Third Street Tunnel, scared to walk through it – claustrophobia. Scared of high places too, and of blood, and of earthquakes; otherwise, quite fearless, excepting death, except the fear I'll scream in a crowd, except the fear of appendicitis, except the fear of heart trouble, even that, sitting in his room holding the clock and pressing his jugular vein, counting out his heartbeats, listening to the weird purr and whirr of his stomach. Otherwise, quite fearless. ~ John Fante

Her fingers pressing into me grew firmer and her breath quickened. I told myself this was what I wanted. Believe it. Accepting it. –"don't be afraid," she breathed as she held herself poised ~ Kim Harrison

Now, grip the bull tight with your thighs." She dutifully tensed her thighs. "Not tense. Grip. Real hard with your whole thigh." His voice dropped, his lips pressing in closer to her ear as he murmured, "I know you know how to do that."
A surge of heat shot from her core. Didn't he know she was having a hard enough time sitting on the damn thing as it was without sexual innuendo messing with her equilibrium? She shot him a don't-make-me-get-off-this-thing look but gripped.
Hard.
"Atta girl," he whispered.
Joss gritted her teeth. "Don't push your luck, cowboy. ~ Amy Andrews

As a last resort, with the orange nearing my face and my back pressing hard against the sharp edge of my broadcast table, I grabbed my phone to tell Carlos that if I didn't make it home tonight, it wasn't because I didn't love him, or didn't want to watch a documentary on special scientific graphs, or was too obsessed with my job to relax and enjoy a good meal and some television. It was only because I was zapped out of existence by a lunatic Non-John Peters. And that, in fact, I do love Carlos, and I would want nothing more than to watch a documentary on scientific graphs over some homemade linguini, or go out to eat again, or whatever.

But then, as I grabbed my phone, I thought: That's way too long to write for a text. So I just hit John Peters upside the head with it... ~ Joseph Fink

God puts certain things in certain people. I'm a restless soul. I'm always searching. I'm always pressing to find what truth is and what life is all about. ~ Jonathan Jackson

Pressing close, our enemies bellicose, unsleeping,
Aim to make us feeble, if our name is scorned, if our fame is shamed,
What defines us as a people? ~ Rıza Fazıl

I write on the typewriter. I like it because I like the feeling of making something with my hands. I like pressing the key and a letter comes up and is printed on a piece of paper. I can understand that. ~ David McCullough

Finn stepped forward immediately. "Used to be a stormtrooper, but now I'm rebel scum," he said, pressing a fist over his heart. "Until the end."
"My point," Poe said, turning back to Agoyo, "is that many of us have dubious beginnings, but it is how we end that counts."
"My father was Darth Vader," Leia said, pitching her voice so that it rang out clearly through the room, "Is there anyone who wants to question my loyalty to the Resistance? ~ Rebecca Roanhorse

He never spoke a word; yet my entire body was aflame. With shameful joy in my heart, I trembled as I moved against his hands, seeking more of the delicious rapture he was giving me. He played me like a stringed instrument, awakening within me a harmony that I had never known existed, producing profound and unimagined tunes.
When I felt him enter me I clung to him, pressing him ever closer, our two bodies fused as one. As he moved with me towards the brink of ecstasy, I was overwhelmed by an intense need that until that moment had never been recognized. All at once, just as I heard his own fevered exclamation, I felt the core of my womanhood explode with pleasure, as if my body had splintered into a thousand brilliant fragments of sensation and light. ~ Syrie James

Perhaps I should have been a Negro. I suspect I would have been a rather large and terrifying one, continually pressing my ample thigh against the withered thighs of old white ladies in public conveyances a great deal and eliciting more than one shriek of panic. Then, too, if I were a Negro, I would not be pressured by my mother to find a good job, for no good jobs would be available. My mother herself, a worn old Negress, would be too broken by years of underpaid labor as a domestic to go out bowling at night. She and I could live most pleasantly in some moldy shack in the slums in a state of ambitionless peace, realizing contentedly that we were unwanted, that striving was meaningless. ~ John Kennedy Toole

The cancer was back, this time pressing at the base of my brain stem." His hands tighten on the sides of the podium ~ Lauren Oliver

I have come, my lovely," Roddy said with his usual sardonic grin as he swept her a deep bow, "in answer to your urgent summons-and, I might add,-" he continued, "before I presented myself at the Willingtons', exactly as your message instructed." At 5'10", Roddy Carstairs was a slender man of athletic build with thinning brown hair and light blue eyes. In fact, his only distinguishing characteristics were his fastidiously tailored clothes, a much-envied ability to tie a neckcloth into magnificently intricate folds that never drooped, and an acid wit that accepted no boundaries when he chose a human target. "Did you hear about Kensington?"
"Who?" Alex said absently, trying to think of the best means to persuade him to do what she needed done.
"The new Marquess of Kensington, once known as Mr. Ian Thornton, persona non grata. Amazing, is it not, what wealth and title will do?" he continued, studying Alex's tense face as he continued, "Two years ago we wouldn't have let him past the front door. Six months ago word got out that he's worth a fortune, and we started inviting him to our parties. Tonight he's the heir to a dukedom, and we'll be coveting invitations to his parties. We are"-Roddy grinned-"when you consider matters from this point of view, a rather sickening and fickle lot."
In spite of herself, Alexandra laughed. "Oh, Roddy," she said, pressing a kiss on his cheek. "You always make me laugh, even when I'm in the most dreadful coil, which I am now. You cou ~ Judith McNaught

Wham. She glommed onto him like white plastic on a Stormtrooper, shamelessly pressing against his body, groping and kissing. ~ Angela Quarles

That's it. Be yourself. Be Isolde Brannick, and they will have no choice but to adore you, He reached out and took my hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. I was too stunned to do anything but sit there, my hand limp in his. ~ Rachel Hawkins

Its more a trance, jonah said. the whole world is pressing in on me, like a weight on my chest, slowly pushing me down ans down. and there's nothing between me and this weight but my flimsy skin. Its not enough. It won't protect me. It doesn't keep anything out. The outside will keep pressing until my ribs are crushed. ~ Natalie Standiford

His warm breath, smelling of clean spice, stroked her cheek and ear. A thrilling shiver coursed over her, the wound on her arm only a minor sting. Then his lips - those full, sensuous lips - grazed her jaw and the soft spot behind her ear, the hairs of his beard brushing her sensitive skin. Her shivers locked her muscles tight. A bolt of tantalizing heat shot down her center.
He leveraged closer, all that warrior brawn pressing hard against her side, linen rasping over skin, an exquisite feeling.
Yes. This. ~ Angela Quarles

Holy fuck. This man and those hands... he doesn't play fair. At all. He presses buttons he's got no business pressing. ~ J.M. Darhower