Sandpaper Quotes

There are times when any amount of being within the world is like rubbing bare skin against sandpaper, when any form of motion is a kind of abrasion, leaving you raw and pink and vulnerable to the next thing. At these times I prefer to close my eyes and be still, still like the cups or candles or crackers on the table, nerveless and open. I closed my eyes and tried to think of the thing furthest from my situation. ~ Alexandra Kleeman

Oh, I have just had an idea - after tea I shall attack myself with sandpaper. ~ Dodie Smith

Sometimes when he's drinking, he gets all weepy and he'll ask me to come closer to him and he'll ask me to hug him and it feels strange to hold him close to me but it feels good too, with his face hair rubbing like sandpaper against my softer cheeks and it's strange and sad the feeling of sorrow I feel because I know he might not have actually been physically touched, except by accident, by another human for about fifteen years. ~ Trent Dalton

Papa grinned and pointed at the girl. "Book, sandpaper, pencil," he ordered her, "and accordion!" once she was already gone. Soon, they were on Himmel Street, carrying the words, the music, the washing. ~ Markus Zusak

As soon as I saw him again I could forget all this existed; I would be calm. Was that a definition of love: a force that can drug you with calm and help you forget all the sandpaper realities of the world? ~ Alix Ohlin

Usability methods are like sandpapering a chair. If you are making a chair, the sandpaper can make it smoother. But no amount of sandpaper will turn a chair into a table. ~ Alan Cooper

A brick could be used like sandpaper, to smooth out a cat's rough tongue. ~ Jarod Kintz

Home. The word still tastes like sandpaper in my mouth. But it makes Mom smile - a tired, true smile - so it's worth it. ~ Victoria Schwab

The way of the truthful-by-nature is as a bicycle race in a pair of sandpaper underpants, but William clung to an indisputable fact. ~ Terry Pratchett

Introverts crave meaning, so party chitchat feels like sandpaper to our psyche. ~ Diane Cameron

When I tell her I feel like the other woman, she laughs, that's just learned sexist bullshit. We are all in charge of our own bodies and what we decide to do with them. We are all our own.
I believed it when she said it, like she'd opened up a new valve that had been stuck. I felt unconfined and open-minded and totally confused. Intellectually, non-monogamy made complete sense; emotionally, it felt like sandpaper across my eyelids. ~ Zoe Whittall

In interior decorating, the pig's actually quite there. It's used in paint for the texture, but also for the glossiness. In sandpaper, bone glue is actually the glue between the sand and the paper. And then in paintbrushes, hairs are used because, apparently, they're very suitable for making paintbrushes because of their hard-wearing nature. ~ Christien Meindertsma

Congratulations on your exciting opportunity!" declared the blob in a voice that sounded like a mix between sandpaper and nails on a chalkboard. It appeared to be wholly ignorant of the way its voice sounded, its words infused with a joyful sincerity Paresh found unsettling.
"Excuse me?" asked Paresh, who had never encountered an alien before but decided that if the first thing they did when they invaded was congratulate you, they couldn't be all that bad.
"We have identified you as a potential host body. We find your body very desirable."
No one was allowed to find his body desirable but his wife, dammit. "Host body?"
"Our analysts have determined that your body's complexion, specific gravity, and the length of its extremities are optimal for our experience."
Sita had never commented on his specific gravity, but Paresh took it as a compliment. She had commented on the length of his extremity. ~ Sunil Patel

He came through the front door just as I barreled into the hallway, and grabbed me round the waist, kissing me with sun-dusty enthusiasm and sandpaper whiskers. "You're back," I said, rather inanely. "I am, and there are Indians just behind me," he said, clutching my bottom with both hands and rasping his whiskers fervently against my cheek. "God, what I'd give for a quarter of an hour alone wi' ye, Sassenach! ~ Diana Gabaldon

The beanstalk felt like sandpaper". ~ Sarah Beth Durst

I've slipped enough times over the years to know the peril of a too-smooth sole, so every time I buy a new pair, I take a pair of scissors or a piece of sandpaper to the bottoms to roughen them up. In my catwalk days, I even used to spit on the soles of shoes before I ventured down the runway. ~ Marie Helvin

it was like glass sandpaper being rubbed on my skin. ~ Nicci French

Everything is mediated. Everything is influenced by its maker. And happily, right? I'm so happy everyone leaves fingerprints on things whether they like it or not. Fingerprints solve crimes. They're profound. They're your best and worst friend and you were born with them and you can't get away from them without a lot of pain and sandpaper. ~ Laurel Nakadate

Manuela de La Mancha," says a deep voice. It sounds strange to hear such a long name, but that's the manada I'm pretending to be from.

"Hola, Marilén," I say to Tiago and Saysa's great-grandmother, whom I met moments ago.

"No sos bruja." You're not a witch.

My tongue feels like sandpaper, and my mouth seals dry. Since our wolf-shadows roam outside the Citadel, and my fangs and claws are retracted, I didn't think there would be any indicator of my identity -

"No te preocupes, no vengo a interrogarte." Don't worry, I'm not here to interrogate you.

She moves closer, and the way her steely eyes seem to see more than others reminds me of Perla. "Toda la vida soñé con conocerte," she whispers. My whole life I've dreamt of meeting you.

Her long black hair is in a tight, elegant bun that pulls her skin, stretching it so that if there's a single wrinkle, I don't see it. "La primera de nosotras que nació fuera de su jaula."

The first of us to be born outside her cage. ~ Romina Garber

Certainly something had happened to me during the night. Or after months of tension I had arrived at the edge of some precipice and now I was falling, as in a dream slowly, even as I continued to hold the thermometer in my hand, een as I stood with the soles of my slippers on the floor, even as I felt myself solidly contained by the expectant looks of my children. It was the fault of the torture that my husband had inflicted. But enough, I had to tear the pain from memory, I had to sandpaper away the scratches that were damaging my brain. ~ Elena Ferrante

By the way, for those who are listening, I absolutely define - I have a face for radio. Unfortunately, I've got a voice for print. So I apologize for the sandpaper you're listening to. ~ Frank Luntz

Anne Lamott says in Traveling Mercies, I always imagined when I was a kid that adults had some kind of inner toolbox full of shiny tools: the saw of discernment, the hammer of wisdom, the sandpaper of patience. But then when I grew up I found that life handed you these rusty bent old tools - friendships, prayer, conscience, honesty - and said, Do the best you can with these, they will have to do. And mostly, against all odds, they're enough. ~ Melanie Shankle

I'm tired of thinking about Agatha. Well, not about her, but about my loss of her. Today I went through some old boxes of mine and found some journal entries I wrote in the second grade. One was about the loss of a girl, the S name on my list, so I'll copy and paste it for posterity:

Today was a bad day. Stephany broke up with me for Tommy. I don't like that slimy Tommy. Tommy is a turtle. I used to like turtles but now I like warm blooded creetures. Maybe Stephany is a reptile disguised as a human jerkface. I won't cry because I am a soldier. Soldiers do not dispense tears. Soldiers kill their enemies. Tommy is my enemy. But the code of the moose says a warrior must eat what he kills. Does this mean I should have eaten my neighbors cat? I will not cry today or ever. I am fearless like my dad. My dad is a superhero. He is courageous and invisible. I haven't seen him in four years. When I see him next he'll probably tell me I am taller. Maybe I will tell him he is shorter. And fatter and balder. Maybe he will appear again and I can be normal. I would very much like to not wear wooden shoes anymore. Cats tongues are rough like sandpaper. Cats must never lick my shoes. Nobody licked my shoes the way Stephany did. I will miss her and her early-onset male pattern baldness. ~ Jarod Kintz

It's funny: I always imagined when I was a kid that adults had some kind of inner toolbox full of shiny tools: the saw of discernment, the hammer of wisdom, the sandpaper of patience. But then when I grew up I found that life handed you these rusty bent old tools - friendships, prayer, conscience, honesty - and said 'do the best you can with these, they will have to do'. And mostly, against all odds, they do. ~ Anne Lamott

I shaded my eyes with my hand and slowly sat up. My mouth felt like it had been wiped with sandpaper. ~ Alina Klein

Sometimes she sat against the wall, longing for the warm finger of paint to wander just once more down the side of her nose, or to watch the sandpaper texture of her papa's hands. If only she could be so oblivious again, to feel such love without knowing it, mistaking it for laughter and bread with only the scent of jam spread out on top of it. It was the best time of her life. ~ Markus Zusak

Nurse sharks have smoother skin than most sharks. It feels like sandpaper. ~ Tedd Arnold

The rain beat against the windows and against the tin roof of the hotel. It came down in hissing roars, then in whispers, then in loud shishes like sandpaper rubbed against wood. She drank the second glassful, climbed off the bed and began undressing, and then we were together, the cheap naked bulb still blazing down on the bed.

Thinking back, I remember the stupidest things; the way there was a taut crease just above her hips, in the small of her back. The way she smelled like a baby's breath, a sweet barely there smell that retreated and retreated, so that no matter how close you got to it you weren't sure it was there. The brown speckles in the lavender-gray eyes, floating very close to the surface when I kissed her, the eyes wide open and aware. But not caring. The eyes of a gourmet offered a stale chunk of bread, using it of necessity but not tasting it any more than necessary.

I remember getting up and coming back to her, and of throwing a shoe at the light bulb, later, when the whisky was gone. I remember the smell of rain-darkness in the room and her telling me I'd cut my feet on the light-bulb glass on the floor. And how she said I was no better than a tramp myself, that I made love to the cadence of the raingusts on the roof, and it was true I was doing just that, but it seemed the natural thing then. And I felt so marvelously clean and soaped and so in tune with the whole damned universe that I had the feeling I could have clouded up and rai ~ Elliott Chaze

I have found it is surprisingly difficult to remain sad when a cat is doing its level best to sandpaper one's cheeks. ~ R.L. LaFevers

My compassion was not dissimilar to gliding sandpaper over your ass. ~ Santino Hassell

Her voice was as rough as sandpaper. As long as Blomkvist lived, he would never forget her face as she went on the attack. Her teeth were bared like a beast of prey. Her eyes were glittering, black as coal. She moved with the lightning speed of a tarantula and seemed totally focus on her prey as she swung the club again, striking Martin in the ribs. ~ Stieg Larsson

Never try to keep it professional, keep it smutty, write with bodily fluids on sandpaper, and damn the men with clipboards in white suits, the literary bean-counters, the prose police. ~ Peter Selgin

And what are you doing here, Nicholas? Decided to watch me sleep?" "Yes," said Nick, and bowed is head over his sword again. He had tissues, oil, and sandpaper laid out on the windowsill in front of him, and a little stone block he was passing his sword up and down, very carefully. "I came to gaze upon your sleeping face. Only you had the blanket over your head, so I just had to gaze at a lump I thought was your sleeping face, and that turned out to be your shoulder. Which just wasn't as special." ~Nick and Mae ~ Sarah Rees Brennan

I tried!" She screamed, her eyes filled with raw emotion. All Sarah could do is stand there, speechless at this outburst. Sunni whirled on her heels, pacing back and forth in the narrow confines of the bedroom. "I tried as hard as I fucking could!" She continued, her voice thick with tears and heavy with anger ."I did the best I could! I loved you, no matter what. I loved every part of you, and I accepted who you were! I didn't like some parts, but you know what? It's who you fucking are! That's what you do as a partner!"

She turned on Sarah now, her finger pointed in her direction, tears spilling over as the emotion got the best of her. "I loved you through it all, and what did you do? You abandoned me. You made empty promises to me, ones that filled my heart with hope. Even in my darkest times, you made it about you. Is that who you are, Sarah?!" H

Sunni's voice dropped now, a whisper of shattered glass. "You left me, you abandoned me. Even in my greatest need, I was still there for you. And yet, you couldn't do the same for me. Why? Am I not good enough for you?"

Sarah moved to speak, her throat closing with raw emotion. Sunni shook her head, her hand up to halt Sarah. "No, don't speak. Don't lie to me. No more lies, no more bullshit. If I was enough, then why weren't you there?" She let out a laugh now, a sound that was reminiscence to raw sandpaper. "I needed you, time and time again. I was there for you, because it was my job. It was my ~ Zoe Santana

When he says
He doesn't love you anymore,
Roll your shoulders back
And look him in the eye
Even when it feels like your ribs
Are breaking inward, like spider legs.
When he digs up old aches
That he swore he forgave you for,
Smile
And ask him why he didn't leave you sooner.
Ignore the way the words feel like sandpaper
Running all the way up your throat to your mouth.
When he blames you
For mistakes that wear his face,
Do not scream.
Do not cry.
Tell him that there are boys
Who would be proud to say they'd loved you.
Tell him that in two years
You won't even remember his name
And don't let him see the way you can taste your own lie.
When he leaves
Ignore the howling in your blood
And do not get up after him.
Not even to lock the door.
Do not, do not
Do not.
Smell his shirts when you box them up
To give them back.
Not one.
Swear off dating when you realize
You're chasing ghosts that wear his smile.
It's okay to cry over him.
It's even okay to forgive him.
But do not go back to him.
If he did not know how to love you the first time,
He won't know how to do it the next. ~ Ashe Vernon

Ironing was another massive and dauntingly separate task. Irons cooled quickly, so a hot iron had to be used with speed and then exchanged with a freshly heated one. Generally, there would be one on the go and two being heated. The irons, heavy in themselves, had to be pressed down with great force to get the desired results. But because there were no controls, they had to be wielded with delicacy and care so as not to scorch fabrics. Heating irons over a fire often made them sooty, too, so they had to be constantly wiped down. If starch was involved, it stuck to the bottom of the iron, which then had to be rubbed with sandpaper or an emery board. ~ Bill Bryson

I have a rough marriage. It feels like sandpaper, only not as soft and gentle on the anus. ~ Jarod Kintz

Rejection was like sandpaper. His skin sloughed away under its constant onslaught. After a while, Samuel wasn't sure which would last long: himself or his dreams. ~ Nicola Yoon

When the zebra-striped lizards return, bulbous eyes twisting in every direction, they carry a platter garnished with dried fruit and something that resembles a duck. It's plucked and roasted but still has its head intact. A warm, herbal scent tickles my nose. At least it's cooked.
"May I introduce you all to the main course?" Morpheus spreads out an arm with dramatic flair. "Dinner, meet your worthy adversaries, the hungry guests."
My tongue dries to sandpaper as the bird's eyes pop open, and it hobbles to stand on webbed feet, flesh brown and glistening with glaze and oil. There's a bell hung around its neck, and it jingles as the duck bows to greet everyone.
This cannot be happening.
Morpheus drags the heavy mallet from beside his chair and pounds it on the table like a judge's gavel. "Now that we're all acquainted, let the walloping begin."
Gossamer launches from Morpheus's shoulder and leaves the room with the other sprites as mass confusion erupts. All the guests leap to their feet, mallets in hand, to chase the jingling duck. ~ A.G. Howard

There was no fear of sandpaper earth, no sense of danger from a bare-skinned spill, for the boy was a child - a six-foot, one-inch growing child who knew nothing of accident, injury, dismemberment, death - who would study those lessons tomorrow, thank you, but not today. Today, it would be sufficient to be wild and free. ~ Tony Taylor

She was someone who heard each grain in the hour-glass, she felt the passing seconds like sandpaper against her softest skin. Time actually seemed to hurt her, and people helped her get through it. [..] Sometimes it seemed to Nathan that her life was just that, a feat of held breath, just another ten seconds, just another five, and then death would flood her lungs like water, a string of glass bubbles to the surface and then nothing. She was scared in a way that he could understand. The kind of fear that sends you running across a six-lane highway or jumping into rapids. She was someone who ran towards her fear, screaming. Who tried to frighten it. Who, in another period of history, would have been worshipped as a saint or burned as a witch. ~ Rupert Thomson