Rochie Tip Quotes

I AM ROWING (a hex poem)

i have cursed your forehead, your belly, your life
i have cursed the streets your steps plod through
the things your hands touch
i have cursed the inside of your dreams

i have placed a puddle in your eye so that you cant see anymore
an insect in your ear so that you cant hear anymore
a sponge in your brain so that you cant understand
anymore

i have frozen you in the soul of your body
iced you in the depths of your life
the air you breathe suffocates you
the air you breathe has the air of a cellar
is an air that has already been exhaled
been puffed out by hyenas

the dung of this air is something no one can breathe
your skin is damp all over
your skin sweats out waters of great fear
your armpits reak far and wide of the crypt

animals drop dead as you pass
dogs howl at night their heads raised toward your house
you cant run away
you cant muster the strength of an ant to the tip of your feet

your fatigue makes a lead stump in your body
your fatigue is a long caravan
your fatigue stretches out to the country of nan
your fatigue is inexpressible

your mouth bites you
your nails scratch you
no longer yours, your wife
no longer yours, your brother
the sole of his foot bitten by an angry snake

someone has slobbered on your descendents
someone has droo ~ Henri Michaux

I thought of the words the old witch had used to summon the sword on previous occasions. While stepping backwards with the intent of putting the table between Thaddeus and myself, I voiced the spell aloud.

"Grim dettarias, ee Duvalla swen areir!"

My trusted weapon appeared from out of nowhere, the hilt grasped tight within my fingers. Without delay, I pointed the tip of the blade at my enemy.

"Move away from the door and let me leave this place."

"Oh, Catherine…"

"Don't breathe that wicked name again!" I angrily ordered. Thaddeus closed his mouth, and his eyes scrunched the slightest bit, never shifting from me.

"I'll cut out your tongue if you mutter that awful name one more time," I threatened. I interpreted his frown as a sign that he believed I would make every effort to carry out that threat.

Using the sword as an extension of my arm, I gestured with a flick of the wrist, signaling for the swine standing between me and freedom to move aside and clear the exit. He failed to comply. ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

I don't know why the publishers in New York don't take a tip from Hollywood and just publish the outlines of novels rather than the completed books. Let the audience use their imaginations, as my Maw always says about radio. I would much prefer to read an outline of War and Peace than slog through eight hundred thousand words. Why do I need Tolstoy to describe snow? I can imagine snow, whether Russian snow or just regular snow. But book publishers seem to think that the authors should do all the work, and the readers should be waited on hand-and-foot like a buncha goddamn prima donnas. ~ Gary Reilly

I only inched the tip in, but dammit to fucking hell if you milking the head of my cock doesn't have me wanting to blow my load. Do not fucking move your tight pussy one tenth of a centimeter until I can stop myself. Fuck! ~ Charisse Spiers

Rock & roll is a type of sensuous music unfit for impressionable minds. ~ Tip O'Neill

Akiva felt the tilt of the world trying to tip him forward: to be nearer to her
nearer and touching
as though that were the only state of rest, and every other action and movement were geared to achieving it. ~ Laini Taylor

I look at words as if they were entities, sacred beings. There are words to which I tip my hat when I see them sitting on a page. ~ William Luce

Oh. My. God." he murmured as it all ended in a crescendo complete with beautiful sparks and all the bells and whistles of fantastic makeup sex.
Five full minutes later he propped up on a an elbow and kissed the tip of her nose. "Can we fight again tomorrow?"
She smiled up at him. "I was thinking of starting an argument right now. ~ Carolyn Brown

In conscious life, we achieve some sense of ourselves as reasonably unified, coherent selves, and without this action would be impossible. But all this is merely at the 'imaginary' level of the ego, which is no more than the tip of the iceberg of the human subject known to psychoanalysis. The ego is function or effect of a subject which is always dispersed, never identical with itself, strung out along the chains of the discourses which constitute it. There is a radical split between these two levels of being - a gap most dramatically exemplified by the act of referring to myself in a sentence. When I say 'Tomorrow I will mow the lawn,' the 'I' which I pronounce is an immediately intelligible, fairly stable point of reference which belies the murky depths of the 'I' which does the pronouncing. The former 'I' is known to linguistic theory as the 'subject of the enunciation', the topic designated by my sentence; the latter 'I', the one who speaks the sentence, is the 'subject of the enunciating', the subject of the actual act of speaking. In the process of speaking and writing, these two 'I's' seem to achieve a rough sort of unity; but this unity is of an imaginary kind. The 'subject of the enunciating', the actual speaking, writing human person, can never represent himself or herself fully in what is said: there is no sign which will, so to speak, sum up my entire being. I can only designate myself in language by a convenient pronoun. The pronoun 'I' stands in for the ever-e ~ Terry Eagleton

I'm in a hallowed league of artists. Whether it's Billie Holiday or Rakim or Jimmy Hendrix or ... I don't know, MGMT, we're all blessed to be able to create. It's a lineage that extends a long time. And to be able to be active in it and have made a difference in it, it's humbling. To know I had a place in all of this; that's the rewarding part. ~ Q-Tip

You have points on the tip of your ears." she tilts her head and stares at me." like a big, tall elf. ~ Pam Bachorz

What do we have here?" Grant slurs at me. He seems different and it raises flags in my mind. His fingers wrap around a section of my hair and it scares me. His face is flushed red and his eyes are glassy and bright. I can smell the smoky scent of whiskey or scotch rolling off his tongue as he speaks and breathes heavily.
"I'm lost and I need a ride home." My voice wavers as I speak and I hate it. I fist my hands in the hem of my blazer.
"I'll get Albert for you, but first spend some time with me," he slurs again, sounding like his tongue is too large for his mouth. As if sensing my attention, the tip of his tongue sneaks out and slides along his supple bottom lip. He smiles as he tastes the alcohol that's staining his mouth. His eyes are bright and shiny and glazed over. He has a smirk on his face that shows off his dimple. It no longer reminds me of Whitt. It seems sinister and dangerous- promising something I'm not ready to experience.
The feel of his fingers playing with my hair gives me goosebumps and I shiver as my scalp tightens, sucking up the pleasant attention. I do my first stupid-girl moment of my life. I shameless crush on a guy and let it turn my thoughts to mush.
"Okay, if you promise to call Albert first." I try to negotiate with him and he gives me a naughty smirk for agreeing.
He backs me up with his physical presence. His front touches mine- chest-to-chest. His lips part and breathes the smoky, whiskey scent onto my chin. My back hit ~ Erica Chilson

I am a tip-top starlet. That is my job that I am paid to do. ~ Madonna Ciccone

Tip to out-of-town visitors. If you buy something here in New York and you want to have it shipped home, be suspicious if the clerk tells you they don't need your name and address. ~ David Letterman

Oh my God, this was an interrogation.
Grady picked up his bottle as he smiled at me. "We just met, but I think we're…going to be pretty good friends."
"Good friends?" Brock chuckled, and my hands tightened into fists. "Sounds about right. Anyway," he said in a way that dripped dismissiveness, "I don't want to keep you all from your dinner. Just wanted to stop by and say hi. I'll hit you up later," Brock said to Cam before focusing on me in that intense way of his that made you feel like there was no one else in the entire world but you.
He tapped the tip of my nose.
I blinked.
Brock grinned. "I'll see you again soon. ~ J. Lynn

Improper breathing is a common cause of ill health. If I had to limit my advice on healthier living to just one tip, it would be simply to learn how to breathe correctly. There is no single more powerful -or more simple- daily practice to further your health and well being than breathwork. ~ Andrew Weil

My best tip: Create re-occurring calendar events for your exercise times. When a conflict arises, it forces you to consciously choose work over exercise, and often you'll find you have time for both. ~ Jessica Scorpio

One thing the music industry has taught me is to manage my expectations. ~ Q-Tip

I couldn't resist another grin. "So ... is there a family discount?"
"Hell, no. Nash is paying full price. Plus tip. ~ Rachel Vincent

Ascott scrambled for his dive knife, he and waved the four- inch blade between himself and the octopus. The floating sack of tentacles hesitated and then all eight of its arms snapped forward. Curled in the tip of each was a variety of sharpened implements, from swords and dive knives to a fishing spear. The large unblinking eyes seemed to be saying, Your move. ~ Paul Mannering

We're going to investigate," Fireheart meowed. "We can't decide how to get rid of these dogs until we know exactly what we have to face. We're not going to attack them, not yet-have you got that, Cloudtail?"
Cloudtail's blue eyes burned into his, and he did not reply.
"I won't take you, Cloudtail, unless you promise to do as you're told without question."
"Oh, all right." The tip of Cloudtail's tail flicked irritably. "I want every last dog turned into crowfood, but I'll do it you're way, Fireheart."
"Good." Fireheart's gaze swept over the rest of the patrol. "Any questions?"
"What if we come across Tigerstar?" asked Sandstorm.
"A cat from another Clan on our territory?" Fireheart bared his teeth. "Yes, you can attack him.
Cloudtil let out a growl of satisfaction. ~ Erin Hunter

When the evidence for and against "democracy being the finest system of government yet invented" is weighed, George W Bush is going to tip the scales very heavily against. ~ Andre The BFG

Everyday conscious awareness of a human being is only the tip of an iceberg, underneath which there is a realm of relatively uncharted apparently mysterious processes, which are likely to be way more complex than the usual waking state. ~ Abhijit Naskar

Wilton Spencer," she said softly, "why do you have to be so damned smart?"
Spence smiled. "Darned smart," he said; then he wiped her tears away and kissed her on the tip of her nose. ~ Jackie French Koller

Think of trying to balance a pencil vertically on its tip. No matter how we try to balance the pencil, it usually falls down. In fact, it requires a fine-tuning of great precision to start the pencil balanced just right so it doesn't fall over. Now try to balance the pencil on its tip so that it stays vertical not just for one second but for years! You see the enormous fine-tuning that is involved to get Omega to be 0.1 today. The slightest error in fine-tuning Omega would have created Omega vastly different from 1. So why is Omega so close to 1 day, when by rights it should be astronomically different? ~ Michio Kaku

I guess it means we don't understand everything, and we're not going to. Maybe the whys aren't answered here. Not because there aren't answers, but because we wouldn't understand the answers if we had them. Maybe there's a bigger purpose, a bigger picture that we only contribute a very small piece to. You know, like one of those thousand piece puzzles? There's no way you can tell by looking at one piece of the puzzle what the puzzle is going to look like in the end. And we don't have the picture on the outside of the puzzle box to guide us. Maybe everyone represents a piece of the puzzle. We all fit together to create this experience we call life. None of us can see the part we play or the way it all turns out. Maybe the miracles that we see are just the tip of the iceberg. And maybe we just don't recognize the blessings that come as a result of terrible things. ~ Amy Harmon

The essence of a sculpture must enter on tip-toe, as light as animal footprints on snow. ~ Hans Arp

I forever you," he whispers, kissing the tip of my nose, and I think my heart might fly out of my chest. ~ Siobhan Davis

Yes, I'll marry you."
And then his hands were in her hair, scattering her hairpins, and his lips were on hers, stealing her breath, and she was touching him- this remarkable man whom she'd loved for so long and who was finally, finally hers.
Callie sighed into Ralston's mouth- noting that he tasted of scotch and something more exotic, more male- and a feeling of complete and utter elation coursed through her. This was Ralston, her future husband, and he was making her feel so warm and wonderful and alive. And then he was kissing down the column of her neck, whispering her name like a litany as he lifted her arms over his shoulders and set his lips to the expanse of white skin above the neck of her gown. Callie gasped as his strong hands spread wide across her torso, stealing up to cup her breasts in a gesture of complete and utter possession.
"This gown," he said, the words coming thick and liquid, "is sinful."
Callie couldn't help her smile as he leaned back to watch her breasts lift against the satin edge of the dress. "Do you think so?"
"Indeed. It is made to drive men crazy... to reveal all your luscious curves"- he ran a finger beneath the satin lazily, just far enough to graze the edge of a nipple- "without showing off anything. It's a torturous viewing experience," he added, wickedly, as he pulled the edge of the gown lower, exposing the straining tip of one breast to the cool air and his hot mouth. He suckled briefly, until Callie was writhing ~ Sarah MacLean

I found myself in the position of that child in a story who noticed a bit of string and - out of curiosity - pulled on it to discover that it was just the tip of a very long and increasingly thick string...and kept bringing out wonders beyond reckoning ~ Benoit B Mandelbrot

Google Earth is an incredible resource because from hundreds of miles in space, we can zoom in, and we can find things. Everyone always looks for their house first. That is the tip of the iceberg with remote sensing. ~ Sarah Parcak

I had long ago learned to ignore things I could not resolve. Whenever I was faced with such choices, something always occured to tip the scales one way or another and relieve me of the decision.
I watched the skies for portents from the Gods. ~ W.A. Hoffman

When the tip of his tongue touches the little hard nub of my clitoris I feel the same jolt in my sex as I do in my throat when I light up. There must be a connection. ~ Chloe Thurlow

Once the quietness arrived, it stayed and spread in Estha. It reached out of his head and enfolded him in its swampy arms. It rocked him to the rhythm of an ancient, fetal heartbeat. It sent its stealthy, suckered tentacles inching along the insides of his skull, hoovering the knolls and dells of his memory; dislodging old sentences, whisking them off the tip of his tongue. It stripped his thoughts of the words that described them and left them pared and naked. Unspeakable. Numb. And to an observer therefore, perhaps barely there. Slowly, over the years, Estha withdrew from the world. He grew accustomed to the uneasy octopus that lived inside him and squirted its inky tranquilizer on his past. Gradually the reason for his silence was hidden away, entombed somewhere deep in the soothing folds of the fact of it. ~ Arundhati Roy

(on the Pip and Squeak asking for a taxi tip)
"How about a tip?"
"Here's a tip," I said. "Next time you're at the library, check out a book about a champion of the world."
"By that author with all the chocolate?"
"Yes, but this one's even better It has some very good chapters in it."
"That's the kind of tip we can use," Squeak said. "Pip reads to me between fares. ~ Lemony Snicket

For people who love Tribe, I'm the defector. They say, 'You should get back with Ali to do the beats.' But a lot of people don't realize I did all the music in Tribe. In the first three albums, I did all the beats! ~ Q-Tip

It was dark now, and broodingly sluggish. Like something supine waiting to spring, with just the tip of its tail twitching. Leaves stood still on the trees. An evil green star glinted in the black sky like a hostile eye, like an evil spying eye.
("For The Rest Of Her Life") ~ Cornell Woolrich