Seat And Sofa Quotes

Mind if I ask you another question?" I said.
"Go ahead," he replied.
I cleared my throat and sat up straight in my seat. "How come…how come it took you so long to call me?" I couldn't help but grin. It was one of the most direct questions I'd ever asked him.
He looked in my direction, then back toward the road.
"You don't have to tell me," I said. And he didn't. But I'd wondered more than a handful of times, and as long as he was coming clean about bucket seats and other important matters, I thought it would be a good time to ask him why four months had passed between the first night we'd met in the smoky bar and the night he'd finally called to invite me to dinner. I remembered being knocked over by his magnetism that night during Christmas vacation. What had he thought of me? Had he forgotten me instantly, then remembered me in a flash that April night after my brother's wedding? Or had he intentionally waited four months to call? Was it some kind of country boy protocol I didn't know about?
I was a girl. I simply had to know. ~ Ree Drummond

Of Law there can be no less acknowledged, than that her seat is the bosom of God, her voice the harmony of the world: all things in heaven and earth do her homage, the very least as feeling her care, and the greatest as not exempted from her power. ~ Richard Hooker

On the way out to the car, Philip turns to me. "How could you be so stupid? I shrug, stung in spite of myself. "I thought I grew out of it." Philip pulls out his key fob and presses the remote to unlock his Mercedes. I slide into the passenger side, brushing coffee cups off the seat and onto the floor mat, where crumpled printouts from MapQuest soak up any spilled liquid. "I hope you mean sleepwalking," Philip says, "since you obviously didn't grow out of stupid. ~ Holly Black

It was a Game called Yes and No, where Scrooge's nephew had to think of something, and the rest must find out what; he only answering to their questions yes or no, as the case was. The brisk fire of questioning to which he was exposed, elicited from him that he was thinking of an animal, a live animal, rather a disagreeable animal, a savage animal, an animal that growled and grunted sometimes, and talked sometimes, and lived in London, and walked about the streets, and wasn't made a show of, and wasn't led by anybody, and didn't live in a menagerie, and was never killed in a market, and was not a horse, or an ass, or a cow, or a bull, or a tiger, or a dog, or a pig, or a cat, or a bear. At every fresh question that was put to him, this nephew burst into a fresh roar of laughter; and was so inexpressibly tickled, that he was obliged to get up off the sofa and stamp. At last the plump sister, falling into a similar state, cried out:
"I have found it out! I know what it is, Fred! I know what it is!"
"What is it?" cried Fred.
"It's your Uncle Scro-o-o-o-oge!"
Which it certainly was. Admiration was the universal sentiment, though some objected that the reply to "Is it a bear?" ought to have been "Yes;" inasmuch as an answer in the negative was sufficient to have diverted their thoughts from Mr. Scrooge, supposing they had ever had any tendency that way. ~ Charles Dickens

And they went further and further from her, being attached to her by a thin
thread (since they lunched with her) which would stretch and stretch, get thinner and thinner as they walked across London; as if one´s friends were attached to one´s body, after lunching with them, by a thin thread, which (as dozed there) became hazy with the sond of bells, striking the hour or ringing to service, as a single spider´s thread is blotted with rain –drops, and, burdened, sags down. So she slept. And Richard Dalloway and Hugh Whithbread hesitated at the corner of Conduit Street at the very moment that Millicent Bruton, lying on the sofa, let the thread snap, snored. ~ Virginia Woolf

Hard port!" She heard a man say from the backseat, of all places. Remy gasped, her startled eyes looked in the rearview mirror. Seeing a bearded man, she screamed, losing total control of the wheel. The other car came up fast and slammed into her right side, sending her into an uncontrolled spin. Her back pressed into the seat as the impact sent her head connecting with the driver's window. Remy thought she saw a white hand reaching for her, and then she didn't see anything at all. ~ Michael Phillip Cash

I tried to play in this world and live life carefree. I tried, despite Antonio, to be happy. I should've realized when I was sixteen and Antonio slid onto the leather seat next to me that happiness was being stolen from me. Life is ugly and hard and I tried to do my best to dance through it but what I should've learned was that if the beat is off and you can't catch a rhythm, you just look like a fool. I was a fool to believe ~ Nicole Reid

Sam tapped her hand on the steering wheel. Patrick held his hand outside the car and made air waves. I just sat between them. After the song finished, I said something.
'I feel infinite.'
And Sam and Patrick looked at me like I said the greatest thing they ever heard. Because the song was that great and because we all really paid attention to it. Five minutes of a lifetime were truly spent, and we felt young in a good way. I have since bought the record, and I would tell you what it was, but truthfully, it's not the same unless you're driving to your first real party, and you're sitting in the middle seat of a pickup with two nice people when it starts to rain. ~ Stephen Chbosky

Galen slides into his desk, unsettled by the way the sturdy blond boy talking to Emma casually rests his arm on the back of her seat.
"Good morning," Galen says, leaning over to wrap his arms around her, nearly pulling her from the chair. He even rests his cheek against hers for good measure. "Good morning...er, Mark, isn't it?" he says, careful to keep his voice pleasant. Still, he glances meaningfully at the masculine arm still lining the back of Emma's seat, almost touching her.
To his credit-and safety-Mark eases the offending limb back to his own desk, offering Emma a lazy smile full of strikingly white teeth. "You and Forza, huh? Did you clear that with his groupies?"
She laughs and gently pries Galen's arms off her. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the eruption of pink spreading like spilled paint over her face. She's not used to dating him yet. Until about ten minutes ago, he wasn't used to it either. Now though, with the way Mark eyes her like a tasty shellfish, playing the role of Emma's boyfriend feels all too natural.
The bell rings, saving Emma from a reply and saving Mark thousands of dollars in hospital bills. Emma shoots Galen a withering look, which he deflects with that he hopes is an enchanting grin. He measures his success by the way her blush deepens but stops short when he notices the dark circles under her eyes.
She didn't sleep last night. Not that he thought she would. She'd been quiet on the flight home from Destin two n ~ Anna Banks

Have a care." Brian put a hand lightly on Keeley's elbow as they walked away. "Or you'll slip on the pieces of the heart you just broke."
She slid a glance over and up. "I'm very sure-footed," she told him, then made a point of taking a seat between her two brothers.
Because he'd caught the scent of her-subtle sex,with an overlay of class-he made a point of sitting directly acros from her. He sent her one quick grin, then settled in to be entertained by Sarah,who was already chattering to him about horses. ~ Nora Roberts

But the truth was that I didn't want to stay in Riley. The pulls of familial love and obligation could not, for the moment, compete with the promise of early-relationship sex. Starlight and beer and our twisting, naked bodies
that was what I wanted, not a seat at a dining room table with two old women eating breaded veal cutlets and Vienna torte. ~ Curtis Sittenfeld

He leans back in his seat. His legs are spread and his head tipped back, with his eyes challenging me. "Okay what's next, boss?"

I shudder theatrically. "I see why you like it. Just the word makes me feel all powerful. ~ Lily Morton

The young man's mind was carried away by his growing passion for dreams. One looking at him would not have thought him particularly sharp. With the recollection of little things occupying his mind he closed his eyes and leaned back in the car seat. He stayed that way for a long time and when he aroused himself and again looked out of the car window the town of Winesburg had disappeared and his life there had become but a background on which to paint the dreams of his manhood. ~ Sherwood Anderson

A moment later, as he pulls away from the curb, I'm assuming the ride to school will be awkward with my sister in the back. It's confirmed when she asks, "So what's the deal with you and my sister?"
He laughs shortly and rubs the back of his neck like something is there, tickling, tapping.
"Tamra." Clutching the dashboard, I turn and glare at her. "There is no deal."
She snorts. "Well, we wouldn't be sitting here if that was the case now, would we?"
I open my mouth to demand she end the interrogation when Will's voice stops me.
"I like your sister. A lot."
I look at him dumbly.
He looks at me, lowers his voice to say, "I like you."
I know that, I guess, but heat still crawls over my face. I swing forward in my seat, cross my arms over my chest and stare straight ahead. Can't stop shivering. Can't speak. My throat hurts too much.
"Jacinda," he says.
"I think you've shocked her," Tamra offers, then sighs. "Look, if you like her, you have to make it legit. I don't want everyone at school whispering about her like she's some toy you get your kicks with in a stairwell."
Now I really can't speak. My blood burns. I already have one mother doing her best to control my life. I don't need my sister stepping in as mother number two.
I know," he says. "That's what I'm trying to do now - if she'll let me."
I feel his gaze on the side of my face. Anxious. Waiting. I look at him. A breath shudders from me at the intensity in h ~ Sophie Jordan

After a moment or two, a strange awareness shot through me, and I looked up to see Aidan Gray slip into the seat directly across the room, facing me. Great. There went my concentration, especially since he sat there watching me, studying me like some interesting bug under a microscope. ~ Kristi Cook

I gave him my Order smile: sweet grin, hard eyes, reached over to my passenger seat, and pulled out my submachine gun. About twenty-seven inches long, the HK was my favorite toy for close-quarters combat. The rider's eyes went wide.
"This is an HK UMP submachine gun. Renowned for its stopping power and reliability. Cyclic rate of fire: eight hundred rounds per minute. That means I can empty this thirty-round clip into you in less than three seconds. At this range, I'll cut you in half." It wasn't strictly true but it sounded good. "You see what it says on the barrel?"
On the barrel, pretty white letters spelled out PARTY STARTER. ~ Ilona Andrews

I can truly say I had rather be a Mount Vernon than to be attended at the Seat of Government by the Officers of State and the Representatives of every Power in Europe. ~ George Washington

I felt like I was faking all of this, like I was playing the part of a student. I had the costume and the props, but I didn't really belong here. I'd pinned notes on the stupid corkboard backing of my desk, and I'd highlighted things...But it was all so meaningless.

For about an hour, I had an overwheling urge to grab my bag, stuff in a few things, and take the next train to Bristol. I could be back on my parents' couch that night if I got moving. I could admit that I wasn't ready for this, that the semester was a wash. My parents would be thrilled, I was sure. Not about the semester being a wash--but certainly about having me back where they could keep me safe and sound. It would be so easy to do it. The very idea made me warm inside. It was okay to give up. I'd been brave. Everyone would say so.

And yet...even as I opened a dresser drawer and figured out which things I would take with me in this hypothetical scenario, i remembered the problem.

There would still be ghosts

i would still have a future.

I would still go back to school eventually. You can't curl up on the sofa and deny life forever. Life is always going to be a series of ouch-making moments, and the question was, was i going to go all fetal position, or was I going to woman up? ~ Maureen Johnson

When people hear I have six kids and 16 grandkids, they think, 'Oh, boy, you must get a lot of stories from them.' I don't. It's not like I'm behind the sofa in the living room taking notes while the grandkids carry on. ~ Jerry Spinelli

George thought about it, and asked, "What are, exactly?"
"What am I?"
"Yes. You're not a performer, or just a performer. I've seen vaudevillians do a lot of things before, but I've never seen one pull reflections off glass. So what are you?"
Silenus smirked, sat back in his seat, and pulled his hat down over his eyes. "You're wrong, kid. I am just a performer. I'm just putting on a show you haven't seen before. ~ Robert Jackson Bennett

Then he smiles because he knows deep in his bones that his dad has gone and said something really funny probably. He kicks off his sheet and slides his feet into his slippers. Bunny sits in the living room, slumped low on the sofa, full of Geoffrey's Scotch and Poodle's cocaine. ~ Nick Cave

Heaven, the seat of bliss, Brooks not the works of violence and war. ~ John Milton

Turn it off," she said, her voice cracking.
"It's still good music," Joe told her with an almost apologetic shrug.
"It's crap," she breathed, still totally taken aback by the music playing again.
He shook his head. "No, it's not crap!" he said patiently and started peeling out of his sweater, trying hard not to get his braced hand caught in the sleeve. He emerged, his hair a bit messy, and tossed the sweater back towards the sofa. ~ Billy Wood-Smith

Scott Brown may be the last Republican to win a statewide fight in Massachusetts for a very long time. He caught the machine flat-footed in January 2010 when he out-hustled Martha Coakley and stole the Senate seat Ted Kennedy held all those years. And since then, the Democrats haven't lost a single statewide fight. ~ Howie Carr

And the old horror of being a professional writer, and the usual stench of words that goes with it, is begining to drive me out of my seat. (Buddy) ~ J.D. Salinger

Ready?" Jaime echoed. "Yes, yes, I am ready. I am ready to drink a lot of liquids and lie on the sofa moaning faintly all day long. That is what I am ready for. I cannot engage in physical activity of any sort or my head will fall right off. Is that what you want Nick? Because if so, I find that hurtful. ~ Sarah Rees Brennan

With a volley of blasts it emerged from the shed, moving in a fierce and stately way. Mr. Shiftlet was in the driver's seat, sitting very erect. He had an expression of serious modesty on his face as if he had just raised the dead. ~ Flannery O'Connor

I remember watching you from the back seat with those same big hands gripping the steering wheel, and all I could think was someday I want those massive arms to hold me. I knew nothing bad could happen to me wrapped in those unbelievable arms. ~ Tess Oliver

The Germans have a word for it: Sitzfleisch. Staying power. Winning by sticking your ass to the seat and not leaving until after it's over. ~ Ryan Holiday

Sex," the driver said, "Has no one ever told you about it?"

I took the New York Times from my carry-on bag and pretended to read, an act that apparently explained it all.

"Ohhh," the driver said, "I understand. You do not like pussy. You like the dick. Is that it?" I brought the paper close to my face, and he stuck his arm through the little window and slapped the back of his seat. "David," he said, "David, listen to me when I am talking to you. I asked do you like the dick?"

"I just work," I told him. "I work, and then I go home, and then I work some more." I was trying to set a good example, trying to be the person I'd imagined him to be, but it was a lost cause.

"I fucky-fuck every day," he boasted. "Two women. I have a wife and another girl for the weekend. Two kind of pussy. Are you sure you no like to fucky-fuck?"

If forced to, I can live with the word "pussy," but "fucky-fuck" was making me carsick. "That is not a real word," I told him. "You can say fuck, but fucky-fuck is just nonsense. Nobody talks that way. You will never get ahead with that kind of language."

Traffic thickened because of an accident, and, as we slowed to a stop, the driver ran his tongue over his lips. "Fucky-fuck," he repeated. "I fucky-fucky-fucky fuck. ~ David Sedaris

I couldn't wipe the smile off my face/
I felt giddy all the way back to the hotel.
I giggled.
I was happy.
Sage leaned back in his seat and studied me, an amused smile on his face.
"What?" I asked.
He shook his head.
"You're making fun of me," I said.
"I'm not," Sage assured me.
I knew he was telling the truth. His eyes were affectionate. I was his, not just in the past but today and forever, and nothing had ever made me feel more secure.
I was about to pull into the hotel when Sage reminded me of the snacks-the whole reason we'd supposedly gone out. I swung a wild U-turn that slammed Sage against his door.
"Taking up stunt driving?" he asked.
"Can you imagine walking in without the snacks? Rayna would be all over me."
"You don't think she will be anyway? It's been a long snack run."
"It hasn't been that long," I said. "Has it?"
He scrunched his brows. "What are you trying to say?"
I giggled again, and we pulled into a gas station market. Sage wrapped his arm around my shoulders and I leaned against his chest as we walked in step into the store; he held my hand as I cruised the tiny aisles; he stood behind me and rubbed my shoulders as we paid.
I felt normal. I imagined how things would be after everything was over: after we met the dark lady, after we got the Elixir, after we found my dad. Sage and I could travel the world together: me taking pictures, him painting, always coming back toget ~ Hilary Duff