Shaking Hands Quotes

Perhaps I've grown less likable over the years, or maybe I've just forgotten how to meet people. The initial introduction - the shaking-hands part - I can still manage. It's the follow-up that throws me. Who calls whom, and how often? What if you decide after the second or third meeting that you don't really like this person? Up to what point are you allowed to back out? I used to know these things, but now they're a mystery. ~ David Sedaris

Under Polly's eyes, her gaunt cheeks, and her shaking hands as she poured the tea. * * * Cat watches as her cab winds its way through the streets of Soho, thinking she would never stoop to that. It's the lowest of the low. We're supposed to be features writers, not news hacks. But behind her mutterings, behind her disdain, as unwilling as she is to admit it, lies a ribbon of insecurity. The Daily Gazette is the best paper she could ever imagine working for, but Cat, just past her mid-twenties, has yet to prove herself with a big story. She's proving adept at the smaller fluff pieces - How to wear a scarf in thirty different ways! How to put the romance back into your marriage! (As if she would know anything about that.) How to revamp your wardrobe in five easy steps! But the big interviews, the ones that Poppy ~ Jane Green

Your mind must always go, even while you're shaking hands and going through all the maneuvers. I developed the ability long ago to do one thing while thinking about another. ~ Richard M. Nixon

I really will never understand pushing back on comedians who are like, "I'm like a politician campaigning and shaking hands with these people. They're going to be okay." ~ Jen Kirkman

Most filmmaking is about shaking hands and just starting. ~ Abel Ferrara

The greatest enthusiasts for Civil War history and memory often displace complicated consequences by endlessly focusing on the contest itself. We sometimes lift ourselves out of historical time, above the details, and render the war safe in a kind of national Passover offering as we view a photograph of the Blue and Gray veterans shaking hands across the stone walls at Gettysburg. Deeply embedded in an American mythology of mission, and serving as a mother lode of nostalgia for antimodernists and military history buffs, the Civil War remains very difficult to shuck from its shell of sentimentalism. ~ David W. Blight

Most people in politics draw energy from backslapping and shaking hands and all that. I draw energy from discussing ideas. ~ Al Gore

Milton stood among his staff, shaking hands, memorising names. He already knew them in a way - he understood this breed backward and had foreseeen how his speech would be received. Journalists were as touchy as Cabernet performers and as stubborn as factory machinists. He couldn't help smiling. ~ Tom Rachman

He took a deep breath and held out his hand. "We got off to a bad start, but you're obviously a friend of Becks's."
Cole stared at his hand,stumped. He looked at me like, What the hell am I supposed to do with this? I'd never seen him so baffled.It was almost comical.
Then the second-to-last thing that I ever would have anticipated happened. Cole took Jack's hand and shook it. "I'm Neal."
"Jack." Jack briefly glanced sideways at me. "I'll try not to hit you again."
Cole and Jack, shaking hands. I covered my eyes with my fingers,wondering when the world had officially tipped over onto its side.When I lowered my hand, they were both looking at me.I'd had enough awkward.
"Let's go," I said, tugging on Jack's arm.
Cole frowned and looked away. "Take care of our girl," he muttered sarcastically. ~ Brodi Ashton

I never know if the person I'm shaking hands with is coming to kill me. That's something you have to live with when you cross the lines. ~ Ice-T

Kasta looked from one of them to the other, the two of them shaking hands, understanding each other's concern. She didn't see where Giddon came off feeling insulted. She didn't see how Giddon had any place in it at all. Who were they, to take her fight away from her and turn it into some sort of understanding between themselves? She would knock his nose from his face. She would thump them both, and she would apologise to neither. ~ Kristin Cashore

There are only two things to worry about, either you are
healthy or you are sick. If you are healthy, then there is nothing
to worry about. But if you are sick there are only two things to
worry about, either you will get well or you will die. If you get
well, then there is nothing to worry about. But if you die there
are only two things to worry about, either you will go to
heaven or to hell. If you go to heaven, then there is nothing to
worry about. And if you to go hell, you'll be so darn busy
shaking hands with your friends you won't have time to worry. ~ Wolfgang Riebe

We lived in a culture that denied any merit to literary works, considering them important only when they were handmaidens to something seemingly more urgent
namely ideology. This was a country where all gestures, even the most private, were interpreted in political terms. The colors of my head scarf or my father's tie were symbols of Western decadence and imperialist tendencies. Not wearing a beard, shaking hands with members of the opposite sex, clapping or whistling in public meetings, were likewise considered Western and therefore decadent, part of the plot by imperialists to bring down our culture. ~ Azar Nafisi

The new Episcopalian and Catholic liturgies include a segment called "passing the peace." Many things can go wrong here. I know of one congregation in New York which fired its priest because he insisted on their passing the peace- which involves nothing more than shaking hands with your neighbors in the pew. The men and women of this small congregation had limits to their endurance; passing the peace was beyond their limits. They could not endure shaking hands with people to whom they bore lifelong grudges. They fired the priest and found a new one sympathetic to their needs" Anne Dillard- Teaching a Stone to Talk- An Expedition to the Pole ~ Anne Dillard

With shaking hands, I hold the letter and slide my back down the wall until I'm on the floor. My tears drop on what he's written, leaving blurred ink in its place. I cry for everything that's lost. I cry that he gave up. I cry for the anger in his words. I cry that he's found someone that has made him consider letting me go. I cry for the day I ever met him and thought I could handle someone like him. I cry that the girl he met that day in the restaurant is long gone.
And I cry because I don't know what to do with this person that's left. ~ Willow Aster

As he clutched her in his shaking hands and wept against her, he whispered into her ear, the words that made him believe. "Love bears all things. Endures all things," he said. "Ours has, hasn't it?" She nodded and held him tighter. "But can it endure this, Anais? This demon who holds me so mercilessly in its claws?"
She touched his face and kissed him. "My love can and will, Lindsay. I will be here when you open your eyes. I will give you whatever you need to make it more bearable. ~ Charlotte Featherstone

Oh, forgive me. Shaking hands with me is an unpleasant experience. My hands are no longer hands. ~ Crane Wilbur

Shit, this woman's scary. I'm glad my manager's the short one with the wispy hair and the shaking hands. Milo knows how to get stuff done, but he's about as terrifying as a goldfish. ~ C.M. Stunich

And a brave lad you were, and smart too," answered Silver, shaking hands so heartily that all the barrel shook, "and a finer figurehead for a gentleman of fortune I never clapped my eyes on. ~ Robert Louis Stevenson

He extends a hand, larger than a dinner plate, and I have no choice but to shake it. I think I can feel my metacarpals shattering. Julian jumps to summon our waitress again, mostly to avoid shaking hands with this Goliath. "And a pitcher of mimosas, as soon as humanly possible. ~ Kristopher Jansma

But he goes all quiet. His ghost eyes roll / up in his head, white-on-white-on-white, / and he runs his shaking hands over his scars, / looks up like he's going to wish on a / star. ~ Holly Walrath

People - whether you like to hear what people have got to say, not you have got to listen to them, and turning your back on people I found very insulting. If you're going to really make peace, you have got to confront each other and look each other in the eye, and that's what's happen - I'm always remember Yitzhak Rabin shaking hands with Yasser Arafat and the reluctance in - Yasser Arafat put his hand down and the reluctance of Yitzhak Rabin, but then he had that second and then he just shook the hand. ~ Warren Mundine

I don't mind shaking hands with a human being, are you one? ~ Alex Haley

I walk down the steps of the verandah towards her and with shaking hands she holds my face between them, sobbing, Look at my beautiful girl. ~ Melina Marchetta

When I started finishing games and coming off the field shaking hands, it was a beautiful thing. I mean, you start seeing that you're an important part of the team. ~ Dennis Eckersley

The pain flooded in again. It was always there, of course. Through the shaking hands and slapping of the backs, the grief stayed by his side, tapping Griffin on the shoulder, whispering in his ear, reminding him that they were partners for life. ~ Harlan Coben

I
I alone know how to mourn for him as he deserves.' But while we were still shaking hands, such a look of awful desolation came upon her face that I perceived she was one of those creatures that are not the playthings of Time. For her he had died only yesterday. And, by Jove! the impression was so powerful that for me, too, he seemed to have died only yesterday
nay, this very minute. I saw her and him in the same instant of time
his death and her sorrow
I saw her sorrow in the very moment of his death. Do you understand? I saw them together
I heard them together. ~ Joseph Conrad

There were three of them there, then, and Amabella was introducing Bod and he was shaking hands and saying, "Charmed, I'm sure," because he could greet people politely over nine hundred years of changing manners. ~ Neil Gaiman

It's all about having fun and smiling and shaking hands. ~ Tone-Loc

Shaking hands with the Queen of England was a long way from being forced to sit in the colored section of the bus going into downtown Wilmington, North Carolina. ~ Althea Gibson

When women kiss it always reminds one of prize fighters shaking hands. ~ H.L. Mencken

The colors of the rainbow so pretty in the sky Are also on the faces of people goin' by I see friends shaking hands saying, "How do you do" They're really saying "I love you." I hear babies cry, I watch then grow They'll learn much more than I'll ever know; And I think to myself, What a wonderful world; Yes, I think to myself, What a wonderful world. Oh yeah! ~ Louis Armstrong

In my view, there are many different kinds of hugs. There are the ones you give to huggers, people who hug all the time. These, to me, are by far the least special of all hugs. I see the outstretched arms for the third time in as many days-the expectation of an embrace- and I am drawn in by a feeling of good manners rather than sincere closeness. It's like shaking hands. There are also those I hug only once in a great while because I hardly ever see then, but who I don't necessarily feel that close to. Those kinds of hugs are probably the most awkward. I'm expected to hug so I do it, even if I'm not sure I want to. Hugs like these are brief, and I am always left wondering what sort of look the other person had on their face where I couldn't see. And then there are HUGS. Like the hugs my parents give me when I'm having a bad day, any sort of hug from Armon the giant, or a hug like the one with Yipes right now. Yipes and I are not apt to embrace each other unless there's a good reason to do it, but when there is a good reason, it's a hug that feels like it ought to. ~ Patrick Carman

When a man walks into a room and you shake hands with him, you do not feel that you are shaking hands with him. Death changes that. This is the body of X, not this is X. The syntax is entirely different. Now we are talking about two things instead of one, implying that the man continues to exist, but only as an idea, a cluster of images and memories in the minds of the other people. As for the body, it is no more than flesh and bones, a heap of pure matter. ~ Paul Auster

Why is it so delusional to think that a person who feels someone else's grief or pain isn't hampered by that excess of emotion? Or that imitating others in order to fit in to the crowd is more acceptable than doing what interests you at any given moment? Why isn't it considered rude to look a total stranger in the eye when you first meet him, or to invade his personal space by shaking hands? Couldn't it be considered a flaw to veer off topic based on a comment someone else makes instead of sticking to your original subject? Or to be oblivious when something in your environment changes - like a piece of clothing that gets moved from a drawer to a closet?" That ~ Jodi Picoult

I may have something to help you along... Eros!"
The winged youth raised his bow, his arrow already nocked, took aim, and loosed. Aidon caught the golden arrow and winced, his hand clamped around its head, inches from his heart. He opened his fist. Parallel wounds from the razor sharp edges closed themselves. His blood quickened as he held the golden arrow in his shaking hands.
Heart racing, his head grew light, and he shifted his stance to steady his feet underneath him. Flashes of russet hair, a soft female voice, the twirling skirt of a green linen chiton, grass-stained knees, and delicate, flower-trimmed ankles invaded his thoughts. He looked at Zeus with a mixture of bewilderment and fury. "Was that necessary?"
Zeus laughed. "We shall see. ~ Rachel Alexander

American presidents always avoid shaking hands with brutal dictators, except when it's advantageous to do so. ~ Elizabeth A. Sherman

A friendliness, as of dwarfs shaking hands, was in the air... ~ E. M. Forster

I look up the telephone number of Alcoholics Anonymous. Then, my hands shaking, I open the bar and drink the leftover whiskey, gin and vermouth-whatever I can lay my shaking hands on. ~ John Cheever

One of the biggest reasons I left Elkton Hills was because I was surrounded by phonies. That's all. They were coming in the goddam window. For instance, they had this headmaster, Mr. Haas, that was the phoniest bastard I ever met in my life. Ten times worse than old Thurmer. On Sundays, for instance, old Haas went around shaking hands with everybody's parents when they drove up to school. He'd be charming as hell and all. Except if some boy had little old funny-looking parents. You should've seen the way he did with my roommate's parents. I mean if a boy's mother was sort of fat or corny-looking or something, and if somebody's father was one of those guys that wear those suits with very big shoulders and corny black-and-white shoes, then old Haas would just shake hands with them and give them a phony smile and then he'd go talk, for maybe a half an hour, with somebody else's parents. I can't stand that stuff. It drives me crazy. It makes me so depressed I go crazy. I hated that goddam Elkton Hills ~ J.D. Salinger

The contradictions were apparent to Makhaya, and perhaps there was no greater crime as yet than all the lies Western civilization had told in the name of Jesus Christ. It seemed to Makhaya far preferable for Africa if it did without Christianity and Christian double-talk, fat priests, golden images, and looked around at all the thin naked old men who sat under trees weaving baskets with shaking hands. People could do without religions and Gods who died for the sins of the world and thereby left men without any feeling of self-responsibility for the crimes they committed. This seemed to Makhaya the greatest irony of Christianity. It meant that a white man could forever go on slaughtering black men simply because Jesus Christ would save him from his sins. Africa could do without a religion like that. 135 ~ Bessie Head

And now at the airport, after shaking hands with everybody, waving good-bye, I think about all the different ways we leave people in this world. Cheerily waving good-bye to some at airports, knowing we'll never see each other again. Leaving others on the side of the road, hoping that we will. Finding my mother in my father's story and saying good-bye before before I have a chance to know her better. ~ Amy Tan

The vicar's handshake was warm and reassuring, but shaking hands with Mavis was like clutching a bunch of dead twigs. ~ Victoria Twead

Good-bye, Mrs Bartholemew," said tom, shaking hands with stiff politeness; "and thank you very much for having me."
"I shall look forward to our meeting again," said Mrs Bartholemew, equally primly.
Tom went slowly down the attic stairs. Then, at the bottom, he hesitated: he turned impulsively and ran up again - two at a time - to where Hatty Bartholemew still stood ...
Afterwards, Aunt Gwen tried to describe to her husband that second parting between them. "He ran up to her, and they hugged each other as if they had known each other for years and years, instead of only having met for the first time this morning. There was something else, too, Alan, although I know you'll say it sounds even more absurd ... Of course, Mrs Bartholemew's such a shrunken little old woman, she's hardly bigger than Tom; anyway: but, you know, he put his arms right round her and he hugged her good-bye as if she were a little girl. ~ Philippa Pearce

Judge not man by his outward manifestation of faith; for some there are who tremblingly reach out shaking hands to the guidance of faith; others who stoutly venture in the dark their human confidence, their leader, which they mistake for faith; some whose hope totters upon crutches; others who stalk into futurity upon stilts. The difference is chiefly constitutional with them. ~ Charles Lamb

As happens in dreams, when a perfectly harmless object inspires us with fear and thereafter is frightening every time we dream of it (and even in real life retains disquieting overtones), so Dreyer's presence became for Franz a refined torture, an implacable menace. [ ... H]e could not help cringing when, with a banging of doors in a dramatic draft, Martha and Dreyer entered simultaneously from two different rooms as if on a too harshly lit stage. Then he snapped to attention and in this attitude felt himself ascending through the ceiling, through the roof, into the black-brown sky, while, in reality, drained and empty, he was shaking hands with Martha, with Dreyer. He dropped back on his feet out of that dark nonexistence, from those unknown and rather silly heights, to land firmly in the middle of the room (safe, safe!) when hearty Dreyer described a circle with his index finger and jabbed him in the navel; Franz mimicked a gasp and giggled; and as usual Martha was coldly radiant. His fear did not pass but only subsided temporarily: one incautious glance, one eloquent smile, and all would be revealed, and a disaster beyond imagination would shatter his career. Thereafter whenever he entered this house, he imagined that the disaster had happened - that Martha had been found out, or had confessed everything in a fit of insanity or religious self-immolation to her husband; and the drawing room chandelier invariably met him with a sinister refulgence. ~ Vladimir Nabokov

Finding herself on the way to the village center again, she pulled over, intending to negotiate a three-point turn. The cottage was slightly out of the village, so she needed to get back onto the opposite side of the road and go back up the hill. Glancing over Hannah's instructions again, she swung the car to the right - straight into the path of a motorcyclist.
What happened next seemed to happen in slow motion. The rider tried to stop but couldn't do so in time, although he did manage to avoid hitting her car. As he turned his handlebars hard to the right, his tires lost grip on the wet road and he flew off, sliding some way before coming to a halt.
Layla sat motionless in her car, paralyzed temporarily by the shock. At last she managed to galvanize herself into action and fumbled for the door handle, her shaking hands making it hard to get a grip. When the door finally opened, another dilemma hit. What if she couldn't stand? Her legs felt like jelly, surely they wouldn't support her. Forcing herself upward, she was relieved to discover they held firm. Once she was sure they would continue to do so, she bolted over to where the biker lay, placed one hand on his soaking leather-clad shoulder and said, "Are you okay?"
"No, I'm not bloody okay!" he replied, a pair of bright blue eyes meeting hers as he lifted his visor. "I'm a bit bruised and battered as it goes."
Despite his belligerent words, relief flooded through her: he wasn't dead!
"Oh, I'm so gl ~ Shani Struthers

In this country faith is absolute and universal. The choice, if there is a choice, is made at birth. Everyone believes. For these people, God is a near neighbour.
I thought of Sundays at home when I was a child, buttoned up in an uncomfortable tweed jacket and forced to go to Sunday communion. I remember mouthing the hymns without really singing, peering between my fingers at the rest of the congregation when I was supposed to be praying, twisting in my seat during the sermon, aching with impatience for the whole boring ritual to be over.
I can't remember when I last went to church. I must have been since Mary and I were married but I can't remember when. I don't know anyone who does go to church now. It's extraordinary, isn't it? I know I live amongst scientists and civil servants, and Mary's friends are all bankers or economists, so perhaps we are not typical. You still see people coming out of church on Sunday morning, chatting on the steps, shaking hands with the vicar, as you drive past on your way to get the Sunday papers, relieved you are too old now to be told to go. But no one I know goes any more. We never talk about it. We never think about it. I cannot easily remember the words of the Lord's Prayer.
We have moved on from religion.
Instead of going to church, which would never occur to us, Mary and I go to Tesco together on Sundays. At least, that is what we did when she still lived in London. We never have time to shop during the week and Satur ~ Paul Torday

We must subdue our detestable habit of shaking hands with prosperous rascals and fawning upon the merely rich. ~ Ambrose Bierce

A party is a slightly artificial event where one learns the rudiments of human behavior at its most admirable: speaking when spoken to, looking somebody in the eye, shaking hands and being friendly under duress. ~ Phyllis Grissim-Theroux

I asked you to leave, Grimm Roderick. What are you still doing here?" she said coolly.
"Is that you, Jillian?" He stepped closer, peering through the shadows.
"Have so many other women at Caithness demanded you depart that you're suffering confusion about my identity?" she asked sweetly, plunging her shaking hands into the holds of her cloak. ~ Karen Marie Moning

...(T)he last rebels of the Tuareg uprising that had devastated the north for half a decade agreed to lay down their weapons, and the nomadic warriors surrendered thousands of Kalashnikov rifles to the government. The weapons were buried tin the concrete pedestal f a "monument of Peace" that sits on a rise on Timbuktu's outskirts- an assemblage of interlocking archways surrounded by colorful murals of Malian government soldiers and Tuareg rebels shaking hands and burning their weapons. ~ Joshua Hammer

Shaking hands with the strangers of opposite sex is forbidden ~ Mohammad Hussein Fadlallah

I remember very clearly someone saying, 'Don't shake hands with the cactus,' and I thought, 'Well, why not? What could possibly go wrong?' Shaking hands is a friendly gesture. ~ Benedict Cumberbatch

It's hard to put into words, shaking hands with the most powerful man in the world. ~ Buddy Rice

I have five flashlights and each performs its own trick. I have a raincoat with zippers and net material so I never get too hot in a downpour. I have a shelf crammed with books and a shortwave that speaks Arabic, Japanese, Dutch and Russian. They have mud huts with maybe a few chairs and faded pages of old magazines fastened to the wall. I ride my twenty-one speed Peace Corps-issue bike to Ferke not to save a dollar on transport but for the luxury of exercise. They ride in from their settlements on cranky old mopeds or bikes with a single cog because it's the only option. And they give me charity. I just stare at it - near tears. To refuse their offer would be pure insult. So I do the rounds again shaking hands with all the men in boubous saying over and over "An y che " Thank you. ~ Sarah Erdman

He was the only person making his way into the city; he met hundreds and hundreds who were fleeing, and every one of them seemed to be hurt in some way. The eyebrows of some were burned off and skin hung from their faces and hands. Others, because of pain, held their arms up as if carrying something in both hands. Some were vomiting as they walked. Many were naked or in shreds of clothing. On some undressed bodies, the burns had made patterns - of undershirt straps and suspenders and, on the skin of some women (since white repelled the heat from the bomb and dark clothes absorbed it and conducted it to the skin), the shapes of flowers they had had on their kimonos. Many, although injured themselves, supported relatives who were worse off. Almost all had their heads bowed, looked straight ahead, were silent, and showed no expression whatsoever. ~ John Hersey

I want porridge!" she said, exasperated. "That's all. I wanted a bunny before and 'it' appeared, and now I want porridge. The way my aunts used to make it on cold mornings. Warm and buttery, with rich toasted acorns in it."
"Acorns? Really? That sounds... um... I mean, it's an interesting gastronomic choice."
She rolled her eyes. "We lived in the middle of a 'forest,' Royal Prince. It was what we had. And a real treat in the middle of winter."
Then she proceeded to ignore him.
She closed her eyes and cupped her hands. She prayed and wished and imagined and begged.
Phillip stayed politely silent- though he did look around, sigh a little, and do all sorts of other things to obviously fret over the passage of time.
She tried to call up the feel of the wooden bowl in her hands: it warmed almost like flesh where the wood was thin and the heat of her fingers and the hot porridge mingled. She summoned the smell, a mix of dairy and things of the earth and the tall green grass and the woods. Sometimes there was even a dollop of honey on top.
She thought so hard she felt like she had to go to the privy.
Her concentration faltered for a moment when she distractedly wondered if that ever happened to Maleficent when she was performing an incantation. But after a few seconds she was back in her dream of porridge.
Time passed...
"GOOD LORD!"
The smell in her head was giving to a real scent in her nose now, with even that faint, almost ' ~ Liz Braswell

But we are sailors - served on the Endeavor."

"Are you, now?" the ship's master asked skeptically. "Let me see yer hands."

The master examined Hadrian's palms, looking over the various calluses and rough places while grunting occasionally. "You must have spent most of your time in the galley. You've not done any serious rope work." He examined Royce's hands and raised an eyebrow at him. "Have you ever been on a ship before? It's certain you've never handled a sheet or a capstan."

"Royce here is a - you know - " Hadrian pointed up at the ship's rigging. "The guy who goes up there."

The master shook his head and laughed. "If you two are seamen, then I'm the Prince of Percepliquis!"

"Oh, but they are, Mr. Temple," a voice declared. Wyatt exited the forecastle and came jogging toward them. A bright white shirt offset his tawny skin and black hair. "I know these men, old mates of mine. The little one is Royce Melborn, as fine a topman as they come. And the big one is, ah …"

"Hadrian." Royce spoke up.

"Right, of course. Hadrian's a fine cook - he is, Mr. Temple."

Temple pointed toward Royce. "This one's a topman? Are you joking, Wyatt?"

"No, sir, he's one of the best."

Temple looked unconvinced.

"You can have him prove it to you, sir," Hadrian offered. "You could have him race your best up the ropes."

"You mean up the shrouds," Wyatt said, correcting h ~ Michael J. Sullivan

Love for thy love , and hand for hand I give. ~ William Shakespeare

Briston shakes his head in answer, and slowly walks over to the sword. He cautiously stretches out his hand, which I can see is shaking.
"What are you doing." I ask, frightened.
"I'm going to see what happens if I touch it." Briston continues to stretch his hand out slowly.
"Briston don't. What if it, I don't know, sucks you inside?"
Briston stops to give me a dubious look.
"What? It could happen. Don't you remember Poltergeist? The little girl got sucked into the television. ~ Brandy Nacole

If I'd thought I would regret it," he said calmly, "I never would have made that oath. I knew what becoming a knight would mean. And if you asked me again, the answer would still be the same." He sighed, framing my face with his hands. "My life ... everything I am ... belongs to you. ~ Julie Kagawa

I'm not going anywhere." Gently, he stroked her back, cradled her head. Was there anything more astounding or more frightening to a man, he wondered, than a strong woman in tears?
"I've been right here all along. I love you, Eve, almost more than I can stand."
"I need you. I can't help it. I don't want to."
"I know." He eased back, tucking a hand under her chin to lift her face to his.
"We're going to have to deal with it." He kissed one wet cheek, then the other. "I really can't do without you. ~ J.D. Robb

Have you somewhere else to be, George?" "Hmm?" His friend snapped to attention and grinned. "Anywhere but here. No offense intended, old man, but I tire of watching you glower at them. If you don't intend to relinquish Lady Oh to Fairchild, why did you invite him?" "Because he looked so woebegone when I had coffee with him the other day. Mrs. Hampton has not let her granddaughter see anyone but my family these weeks, and apparently the colonel felt her withdrawal acutely." Ben, on the other hand, had been allowed to watch her bruise change color under the rouge. Each shade proved a twist to the knife in his gut. Yes, it would be better for all if Fairchild were given the chance to declare himself. George clapped a hand to his shoulder. "Well, cheer up, my friend. If his expression is any indication, he may propose tonight, and then you will no longer be plagued by indecisiveness, what with him removing all decision from your hands." "Indeed." Blast it. ~ Roseanna M. White

Worry is a complete circle of inefficient thought whirling about a pivot of fear. To avoid it, consider whether the problem in hand is your business. If it is not, turn to something that is. If it is your business, decide if it is your business now. If so, decide what is best to be done about it. If you know, get busy. If you don't know, find out promptly. Do these things; then rest your case on the determination that, no matter how hard things may turn out to be, you will amek the best of them - and more than that no man can do. Dr. Austen Fox Riggs ~ John Sedgwick

Life itself, every bit of health that we enjoy, every hour of liberty and free enjoyment, the ability to see, to hear, to speak, to think, and to imagine- all this comes from the hand of God. We show our gratitude by giving back to Him a part of that which He has given to us. ~ Billy Graham

Jay took out his guitar. He was decent at it, but the piano was his best talent. He couldn't get a certain riff right, so he handed the instrument to Kaidan, and my heart flipped.
I recalled him saying he played guitar, but I'd never actually seen or heard him play. Kaidan began to pick at each string, testing and tuning with his full attention. I watched the way his hands moved across the wood and strings, gently, reverently, his body seeming to curl around it as if it were a part of him. . . . I felt my hands getting sweaty, because watching Kaidan get lost in music did crazy things to me. My breathing became ragged and I couldn't take my eyes off him.
He looked up at that moment and caught me staring hard. He knew. He knew what it did to me! I could tell because his badge expanded.
He angled himself away from the others and signed to me, I want to be alone with you tonight.
Patti did have a lot of guests staying in the house. I signed back, I'll work on it.
"Excellent," he whispered, a hot grin sliding onto his face. ~ Wendy Higgins

For all Nature is as one Great Engine, made by, and held in His Hand. ~ Nehemiah Grew

All the time and effort people devote to picking the right fund, the hot hand, the great manager have, in most cases, led to no advantage. ~ Peter Lynch

Working up these mountains is as good as it gets, at least as long as you are not freezing or sodden (though even then you feel alive in ways that I don't in modern life behind glass). There is a thrill in the timelessness up there. I have always liked the feeling of carrying on something bigger than me, something that stretches back through other hands and other eyes into the depths of time. To work there is a humbling thing, the opposite of conquering a mountain, if you like; it liberates you from any illusion of self-importance. ~ James Rebanks

Many people do not like the idea that time has a beginning, probably because it smacks of divine intervention. (The Catholic Church, on the other hand, seized on the big bang model and in 1951 officially pronounced it to be in accordance with the Bible. ~ Stephen Hawking

We started the company out of frustration with the employer that we had because we were building great stuff and there was no way that this stuff was ever going to get into the hands of the people who could use it. ~ John Warnock

Fear gripped her like hands around the neck, the way it could only happen in an unfamiliar room in the pitch black of night. ~ Elin Hilderbrand

That night he had dreamed of an orchard under the moonlight, of skeletal white trees, their branches ending in bony hands, their roots going deep down into the graves. There was fruit that grew upon the trees in the bone orchard, in his dream, and there was something very disturbing about the fruit in the dream, but on waking he could no longer remember what strange fruit grew on the trees, or why he found it so repellent. ~ Neil Gaiman

You have yearned to have my affection cloak your delicate spirit, accept the pretense of my craving to consume your soul as a symptom of a greater obsession that can only be extinguished by your merciful hand ... ~ Philip The Apostle

And if the best toys do end up in the hands of those who've never forgotten that life itself is an act of war against intelligent opponents, what does that say about a race whose machines travel between the stars? ~ Peter Watts

Its clear friendliness seemed to ring out audibly amid this appalling hush of the harmonies of life. "I wish you might know a day's friendliness or a day's freedom, yours without question, without condition, and till death." Here was the voice of nature, of appointed protection; the sound of it aroused her early sense of native nearness to her cousin; had he been at hand she would have sought a wholesome refuge in his arms. She sat down at her writing-table, with her brow in her hands, light-headed with her passionate purpose, steadying herself to think. A day's freedom had come at last; a lifetime's freedom confronted her. For, ~ Henry James

Guys are OK ... shake their hand ... Women are special. You can hug 'em. ~ Bon Scott

A pure hand needs no glove to cover it. ~ Nathaniel Hawthorne

Sophie, what will you do to help Josh,to save him, to bring him back?" Tsagaglalal asked.
"Anything. Everything." Perenelle leaned forward to place both forearms on the table. Her hands were tightly locked together, knuckles white with tension. "And Sophie, what do you think I will do to help my husband?"
"Anything," Sophie said again. "Everything."
"We will do anything-everything-to help those we love. That is what seperates the humani from the Next Generation of the Elders or those who came before them. That is what makes us human.That is why the race thrives; it is why the race will always survive."
"But that type of love requires sacrifice," Tsagaglalal said slowly.
"Sometimes extraordinary sacrifices..."
The old woman's gray eyes suddenly swam with huge tears.
And Sophie had a flickering memory of a woman-younger, so much younger, but with the same high cheekbones and gray eyes of Tsagaglalal-turning away from a tall golden statue. The woman stopped and looked back, and Sophie discovered that the statue's bright gray eyes were alive and were following the woman. Then Tsagaglalal turned and raced down endless glass stairs. She was clutching a book in both hands: the Codex. And her tears dripped onto the metal surface. ~ Michael Scott

Suppose..." And for the first time he linked his hand with hers. "He runs and wins and lives to a ripe old age writing his memoirs and traveling as an ambassador of goodwill or playing Parcheesi on the sun porch. You're going to be damned mad he had fifty years without you."
She let out a long breath. "Yeah. But-"
"We've already gone through the buts," he interrupted. "Of course, they're probably several million possibilities in between.He could get hit by a car crossing the street-or you could. He could lose the election and become a missionary or an anchor on the six o'clock news."
"All right." Shelby dropped her forehead to their joined hands. "Nobody makes me see what a fool I am better than you."
"One of my minor talents. Listen, walk out on the beach; clear your head. When you come back, eat something, then get about twelve hours' sleep, because you look like hell.Then..." He waited until she lifted her head to smile at him. "Go home.I've got work to do."
"I love you,you creep."
"Yeah." He shot her one of his quick grins. "Me too. ~ Nora Roberts

His hands were magnets - shifting polarities - drawn and repelled to the unknown parts of another man's body. ~ Cory Ingram

Höderer: You don't love men, Hugo. You love only principles.
Hugo: Men? Why should I love them? Do they love me?
Höderer: Then why did you come to us? If you don't love men, you can't fight for them.
Hugo: I joined the party because its cause is just, and I shall leave it when that cause ceases to be just. As for men, it's not what they are that interests me, but what they can become.
Höderer: And I, I love them for what they are. With all their filth and and all their vices. I love their voices and their warm grasping hands, and their skin, the nudest skin of all, and their uneasy glances, and the desperate struggle each has to pursue against anguish and against death. For me, one man more or less in the world is something that counts. It's something precious. You, I know you now, you are a destroyer. You detest men because you detest yourself. Your purity resembles death. The revolution you dream of is not ours. You don't want to change the world, you want to blow it up. ~ Jean-Paul Sartre

How do you weigh a soul?
Is it heavy with love or hate?
Does it deny the things it's done?
Does it even remember its own name?
Does it miss those it has loved?
Does it long for the life it's lost?
How do you weigh a soul?
After it has paid the highest cost,
Does it lose the will to live?
Without a physical shell
Does it sense without hands
That can touch and truly feel
Does it need sustenance to last?
A cold drink or warm meal
How do you weigh a soul?
Are souls even real? ~ Ashley Jeffery

No way," he said, shaking his head, shaking the image of Lise, bare-legged, her skirt hitched high, from his thoughts. "Lise, she's a sister to me."
"Oh," she said, fingertips making circles just above the waist of her skirt. Wider and wider circles.
"A sister," he repeated. He looked at her. There was something scratching again, in the corner above his eye, like those metal probes at the dentist clawing at your teeth. ~ Megan Abbott

In a man devoted to knowledge, pity seems almost ridiculous, like delicate hands on a cyclops. ~ Friedrich Nietzsche

Mr. Severin smiled, tiny constellations of reflected chandelier lights glinting in his eyes. "Since I've told you about my tastes... what are yours?"
Cassandra looked down at her folded hands in her lap. "I like trivial things, mostly," she said with a self-deprecating laugh. "Handiwork, such as embroidery, knitting, and needlepoint. I sketch and paint a little. I like naps and teatime, and taking a lazy stroll on a sunny day, and reading books on a rainy afternoon. But I would like two have my own family someday, and... I want to help other people far more than I'm able to now. I take baskets of food and medicine to tenants and acquaintances in the village, but that's not enough. I want to provide real help to people who need it." She sighed shortly. "I suppose that's not very interesting. Pandora's the exciting, amusing twin, the one people remember. I've always been... well, the one who's not Pandora. ~ Lisa Kleypas

We are hours and minutes reaching for the same second, holding hands as we spin forward into new days and the promise of something better. ~ Tahereh Mafi

I want to be apart of something that can only be explained by the hand of God! ~ David Platt

Here a little child I stand, Heaving up my either hand; Cold as paddocks though they be, Here I lift them up to Thee, for a benison to fall on our meat, and on us all. Amen. ~ Robert Herrick

Progressively saved by the machine from the anxieties that bound his hands and mind to material toil, relieved of a large part of his work and compelled to an ever-increasing speed of action by the devices which his intelligence cannot help ceaselessly creating and perfecting, man is about to find himself abruptly plunged into idleness. ~ Pierre Teilhard De Chardin

So far there has been no philosopher in whose hands philosophy has not grown into an apology for knowledge; on this point, at least, every one is an optimist, that the greatest usefulness must be ascribed to knowledge. They are all tyrannized over by logic, and this is optimism in its essence. ~ Friedrich Nietzsche

Derek's breath touched Sara's throat in unsteady urges. "Sometimes," he whispered, "I'm so close to you ... and I'm still not close enough. I want to share your breath ... every beat of your heart."
He cradled her head in both his hands, his mouth hot on her neck. "Sometimes," he murmured, "I want to punish you a little."
"Why?"
"For making me want you until I ache with it. For the way I wake at night just to watch you sleeping." His face was intense and passionate above her, his green eyes sharp in their brightness. "I want you more each time I'm with you. It's a fever that never leaves me. I can't be alone without wondering where you are, when I can have you again." His lips possessed hers in a kiss that was both savage and tender, and she opened to him eagerly. ~ Lisa Kleypas

There are those who give with joy, and that joy is their reward. ~ Kahlil Gibran

Men kept sticking their hands in the fire thinking this time it would not burn, so ~ Robert Jordan

Keda,' she said to herself,' Keda, this is tragedy.' But as her words hung emptily in the morning air, she clenched her hands for she could feel no anguish and the bright bird that had filled her breast was still singing ... was still singing. ~ Mervyn Peake

I just want to work with the best people I can get my hands on. ~ Jason Winston George

Water is the exile, carried back in cans and flasks, the ghost between your hands and your mouth. ~ Michael Ondaatje

Let's shake hands and be friends, but please, I beg you, stop farting like that, becuase I'm beinning to hallucinate and in my dreams I see Comrade Josepg Stalin doing the charleston. ~ Carlos Ruiz Zafon

Peeta's awake already, sitting on the side of the bed, looking bewildered as the trio of doctors reassure him, flash lights in his eyes, checks his pules. I'm disappointed that mine was not the first face he saw when he woke up, but he sees it now. His features registrer disbelief and something more intense that I can't quite place. Desire? Desperation? Surely both, for he sweeps the doctors aside, leaps to his feets and moves towards me. I run to meet him, my arms extended to embrace him. His hands are reaching for mine too, to caress my face, I think.
My lips are forming his name when his fingers lock around my throat. ~ Suzanne Collins