Shrugs And Boleros Quotes

I hate your kind."

"Because someone like me made you?" He laughs again. "I'm surprised you aren't more pleased to meet me. You're as close as anyone ever comes to meeting God. Come now, don't you have any questions for God?"

Emiko scowls at him, nods at the cheshires. "If you were my God, you would have made New People first."

The old gaijin laughs. "That would have been exciting."

"We would have beaten you. Just like the cheshires."

"You may yet." He shrugs. "You do not fear cibiscosis or blister rust."

"No." Emiko shakes her head. "We cannot breed. We depend on you for that." She moves her hand. Telltale stutter-stop motion. "I am marked. Always, we are marked. As obvious as a ten-hands or a megodont."

He waves a hand dismissively. "The windup movement is not a required trait. There is no reason it couldn't be removed. Sterility. . ." He shrugs. "Limitations can be stripped away. The safeties are there because of lessons learned, but they are not required; some of them even make it more difficult to create you. Nothing about you is inevitable." He smiles. "Someday, perhaps, all people will be New People and you will look back on us as we now look back at the poor Neanderthals."

Emiko falls silent. The fire crackles. Finally she says, "You know how to do this? Can make me breed true, like the cheshires?"

The old man exchanges a glance with his ladyboy.

"Can you do it ~ Paolo Bacigalupi

What about your Durango?"
"She's pretty banged up. Gonna need some bodywork and a whole new windshield."
"She?"
He looks at me blankly. "What?"
"You called it a 'she,'" I point out.
"Oh. Right." Color creeps into his cheeks. "Dana Durango."
"You named your car Dana?"
He just shrugs. ~ Kristi Cook

There are many perks to living for twenty-one centuries, and foremost among them is bearing witness to the rare birth of genius. It invariably goes like this: Someone shrugs off the weight of his cultural traditions, ignores the baleful stares of authority, and does something his countrymen think to be completely batshit insane. Of those, Galileo was my personal favorite. Van Gogh comes in second, but he really was batshit insane. ~ Kevin Hearne

This is the definition of peace.
The definition is interrupted by Toraf's ringtone. Why did Rachel get Toraf a phone? Does she hate me? Fumbling behind him in the sand, Galen puts a hand on it right before it stops ringing. He waits five seconds and...Yep, he's calling again.
"Hello?" he whispers.
"Galen, it's Toraf."
Galen snorts. "You think?"
"Rayna's ready to leave. Where are you?"
Galen sighs. "We're on the beach. Emma's still sleeping. We'll walk back in a few minutes." Emma braved her mom's wrath by skipping curfew again last night to be with him. Grom's mating ceremony is tomorrow, and Galen and Rayna's attendance is required. He'll have to leave her in Toraf's care until he gets back.
"Sorry, Highness. I told you, Rayna's ready to go. You have about two minutes of privacy. She's heading your way. "The phone disconnects.
Galen leans down and sweeps his lips over her sweet neck. "Emma," he whispers.
She sighs. "I heard him," she groans drowsily. "You should tell Toraf that he doesn't have to yell into the phone. And if he keeps doing it, I'm going to accidentally break it."
Galen grins. "He'll get the hang of it soon. He's not a complete idiot."
At this, Emma opens one eye.
He shrugs. "Well, three quarters maybe. But not a complete one."
"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?" she says, sitting up and stretching.
"You know I do. But I think this mating ceremony will be interesting enough wi ~ Anna Banks

How come you're in such a good mood? You couldn't have gotten much more sleep than I did last night. Are you a morning person?" I ask in mock horror."A mornin' person, well maybe, but let's just say I got to experience the nicest parts of hell last night," he says quietly,taking the shirt I offer him. As he rises out of thebed, I can't help looking over his perfect abdomen and chest before he shrugs into his shirt."I'm sorry, the nicest parts of hell? What does that mean?" I ask."Red, yer not a guy, so there's no point explainin', ~ Amy A. Bartol

A curtain of stars, miles of them, are scattered, glowing, across the sky and their multitude humbles me, which I have a hard time tolerating. She shrugs and nods after I say something about forms of anxiety. It's as if her mind is having a hard time communicating with her mouth, as if she is searching for a rational analysis of who I am, which is, of course, an impossibility: there ... is ... no ... key. ~ Bret Easton Ellis

Humming a little, she presses another electrode to my forehead and explains, "In some parts of the ancient world, the hawk symbolized the sun. Back when I got this, I figured if I always had the sun on me, I wouldn't be afraid of the dark." I try to stop myself from asking another question, but I can't help it. "You're afraid of the dark?" "I was afraid of the dark," she corrects me. She presses the next electrode to her own forehead, and attaches a wire to it. She shrugs. "Now it reminds me of the fear I've overcome. ~ Veronica Roth

I was holding you and you were looking up at me all 'kiss me, kiss me, Christian'," he pauses and shrugs slightly, "I felt I owed you an apology and a warning. ~ E.L. James

Do you think I'm going to take her back? Do you think I'm still in love with her?"
She shrugs with one shoulder.
"Amanda," I say, grappling for the words. When I don't say anything else, she slowly turns her head to look at me. Fearful. Hopeful.
"I told her it was too late," I admit. "I told her I didn't love her anymore, because I don't. That ship sailed a long time ago. And I told her I wished her the best of luck but the truth was, I've met someone else." I give her a faint smile, aware of everything riding on this. "You."
"Me?" she repeats, her voice barely audible.
"I didn't mean it as a work partner. I didn't mean it as someone I'm casually sleeping with. I meant in a completely jumping the gun, getting ahead of myself, answering for you when I shouldn't, I want you to be my girlfriend kind of way. She doesn't have my affection, my future or my heart. You do, Amanda. You do. ~ Karina Halle

Why do you care, anyway?" I say. "You can be either cruel instructor or concerned boyfriend." I tense up at the word "boyfriend." I didn't mean to use it so flippantly, but it's too late now. "You can't play both parts at the same time."

"I am not cruel." He scowls at me "I was protecting you this morning. How do you think Peter and his idiot friends would have reacted if they discovered that you and I were..." He sighs. "You would never win. They would always call you ranking a result of my favoritism rather than your skill."

I open my mouth to object, but I can't. A few smart remarks come to mind, but I dismiss them. He's right. My cheeks warm, and I cool them with my hands.

"You didn't have to insult me to prove something to them," I say finally.

"And you didn't have to run off to your brother just because I hurt you," he says. He rubs at the back of his neck.

"Besides- it worked, didn't it?"

"At my expense."

"I didn't think it would affect you this way." Then he looks down and shrugs. "Sometimes I forget that I can hurt you. That you are capable of being hurt."

I slide my hands into my pockets and rock back on my heels. A strange feeling goes through me- a sweet, aching weakness. He did what he did because he believed in my strength.

At home it was Caleb who was strong, because he could forget himself, because all the characteristics my parents valued came naturally to him. ~ Veronica Roth

Jennifer Aniston and Her New Man'" I read the words aloud uncertainly. "What new man? Why would she need a new man?"
"Oh yes." Nicole follows my gaze, unconcerned. "You know she split up from Brad Pitt?"
"Jennifer and Brad split?" I stare up at her, aghast. "You can't be serious! They can't have done!"
"He went off with Angelina Jolie. They've got a daughter."
"No!" I wail. "But Jen and Brad were so perfect together! They looked so good and they had that lovely wedding picture and everything ... "
"They're divorced now." Nicole shrugs, like it's no big deal.
I can't get over this. Jennifer and Brad divorced. The world is a different place. ~ Sophie Kinsella

Where's your car? Miles asks, glancing at him as he slams his door shut and slings his backpack over his shoulder. "And whats up with your hand?"

"I got rid of it," Damen says, gaze fixed on mine. Then glancing at Miles and seeing his expression he adds, "The car, not the hand."

"Did you trade it in?" I ask, but only because Miles is listening. [...]

He shakes his head and walks me to the gate, smiling as he says, "No, I just dropped off on the side of the road, key in the ignition, engine running."

"Excuse me?!" Miles yelps. "You mean to tell me that you left your shiny, black, BMW M6 Coupe - by the side of the road?"

Damen nods.

But thats a hundred-thousand-dollar car!" Miles gasps as his face turns bright red.

"A hundreds and ten." Damen laughs. "Don't forget, it was fully customized and loaded with options."

Miles stares at him, eyes practically bugging out of his head, unable to comprehend how anyone could do such a thing - why anyone would do such a thing. "Um, okay, so let me get this straight - you just woke up and decided - Hey, what the hell? I think I'll just dump my ridiculously expensive luxury car by the side of the road - WHERE JUST ANYONE CAN TAKE IT?"

Damen shrugs. "Pretty much."

"Because in case you haven't noticed," Miles says, practically hyperventilating now. "Some of us are a little car deprived. Some of us were born with parents so cruel and unu ~ Alyson Noel

I glance over my shoulder, at the car following close behind us. It's impossible to see the driver. To tell if it's Cassian. After a moment, it pulls around and passes us. I sigh.
"Why do I get the feeling that I'm abducting you? Should I be on alert for sirens in the rearview mirror?"
"I left willingly." I force a grin and tease, "I don't think you'll get arrested."
"Great. You don't 'think.' That's encouraging." He gives me a wincing smile. "But maybe not. I am eighteen, after all - "
"You're eighteen? But you're a sophomore."
An uneasy look passes over his face. "I missed a lot of school a few years back. Half of seventh grade and all of eighth, in fact. I was sick."
"Sick?" I echo. That reminder of his mortality crashes down on me. It'll always be there, smoke rising between us. Xander had mentioned Will being ill, but I never imagined it as anything serious.
"How? I mean, what . . ."
He shrugs like it's nothing, but he won't glance at me. He stares at the road. "Leukemia. But I'm better now. Completely cured."
"Were you very . . . bad off?"
"For about a year. The prognosis wasn't - " He stops suddenly, like he's said too much, and I get that sense again. The feeling that he's not telling me something. That he's holding back. A muscle in his jaw ripples with tension. "Look, don't worry about it. Aren't I a perfect male specimen now?" He sends me a wink. "Don't I look healthy?"
I really didn't like when I found out tha ~ Sophie Jordan

So you were checking up on me?" I aks
"No," Noah says. He puts a faux-shocked look on his face, then turns back to his magazine, pretending to be engrossed. I take the magazine our of his hand and toss it back onto the table.
"That's good," I say, "That you weren't checking up on me. Because I'm totally fine."
"I know." He shrugs.
"And I don't need to be checked up on."
"Definitely not."
"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."
"Perfectly."
"So we agree."
"Yup."
"So then where are you clothes?"
"What?"
"Your clothes," I say. "Where are your clothes? You came to the Laundromat so you must have some clothes." I fold my arms across my chest and wait,
"Oh, my clothes," he says, giving me an easy grin. "I didn't come here to do laundry."
"Oh, really?" I say. "The what were you here to do?"
"I was here," he says, rolling his eyes like it should be obvious, "so I could go across the street to Cooley's and check my schedule for the week."
"And you just happened to see me coming into the Laundromat?"
"Exactly, ~ Lauren Barnholdt

We're all so happy you're feeling better, Miss McIntosh. Looks like you still have a good bump on your noggin, though," she says in her childlike voice.
Since there is no bump on my noggin, I take a little offense but decide to drop it. "Thanks, Mrs. Poindexter. It looks worse than it feels. Just a little tender."
"Yeah, I'd say the door got the worst of it," he says beside me. Galen signs himself in on the unexcused tardy sheet below my name. When his arm brushes against mine, it feels like my blood's turned into boiling water.
I turn to face him. My dreams really do not do him justice. Long black lashes, flawless olive skin, cut jaw like an Italian model, lips like-for the love of God, have some dignity, nitwit. He just made fun of you. I cross my arms and lift my chin. "You would know," I say.
He grins, yanks my backpack from me, and walks out. Trying to ignore the waft of his scent as the door shuts, I look to Mrs. Poindexter, who giggles, shrugs, and pretends to sort some papers. The message is clear: He's your problem, but what a great problem to have. Has he charmed he sense out of the staff here, too? If he started stealing kids' lunch money, would they also giggle at that? I growl through clenched teeth and stomp out of the office.
Galen is waiting for me right outside the door, and I almost barrel into him. He chuckles and catches my arm. "This is becoming a habit for you, I think."
After I'm steady-after Galen steadies me, that is-I po ~ Anna Banks

I hadn't realized how much I'd relied on his scowls or his shrugs or his grudging looks of approval to help me figure something out-until they weren't there anymore. Or how I could talk to some people about a lot of things but only to him about everything. And how unbelievably valuable that was. ~ Karen Chance

After a minute, I look up and the boy named Leo is staring at me. I stare back, but he doesn´t look away.
"Why are you looking at me?" I hiss at him, my cheeks turning hot, filled with shame for the exchange he just heard.
He just keeps looking at me for a moment, and then he shrugs. "Because I like your face," he says, but now a corner of his mouth is quirking up in a half smile. ~ Mia Sheridan

St. Clair tucks the tips of his fingers into his pockets and kicks the cobblestones with the toe of his boots. "Well?" he finally asks.
"Thank you." I'm stunned. "It was really sweet of you to bring me here."
"Ah,well." He straightens up and shrugs-that full-bodied French shrug he does so well-and reassumes his usual, assured state of being. "Have to start somewhere. Now make a wish."
"Huh?" I have such a way with words. I should write epic poetry or jingles for cat food commercials.
He smiles. "Place your feet on the star, and make a wish."
"Oh.Okay,sure." I slide my feet together so I'm standing in the center. "I wish-"
"Don't say it aloud!" St. Clair rushes forward, as if to stop my words with his body,and my stomach flips violently. "Don't you know anything about making wishes? You only get a limited number in life. Falling stars, eyelashes,dandelions-"
"Birthday candles."
He ignores the dig. "Exactly. So you ought to take advantage of them when they arise,and superstition says if you make a wish on that star, it'll come true." He pauses before continuing. "Which is better than the other one I've heard."
"That I'll die a painful death of poisoning, shooting,beating, and drowning?"
"Hypothermia,not drowning." St. Clair laughs. He has a wonderful, boyish laugh. "But no. I've heard anyone who stands here is destined to return to Paris someday. And as I understand it,one year for you is one year to many. Am I right?"
I cl ~ Stephanie Perkins

Still, I could tell he and Gayle were trying. She baked a cake. Not as good as yours, though."
"What kind of cake?" I ask.
"Devil's food cake. Kind of dry." Peter hesitates before he says, "I invited him to graduation."
"You did?" My heart swells.
"He kept asking about school, and…I don't know. I thought about what you said, and I just did it." He shrugs, like he doesn't care much either way if his dad's there or not. It's an act. Peter cares. Of course he cares. "So you'll meet him then."
I snuggle closer to him. "I'm so proud of you, Peter."
He gives a little laugh. "For what?"
"For giving your dad a chance even though he doesn't deserve it." I look up at him and say, "You're a nice boy, Peter K.," and the smile that breaks across his face makes me love him even more. ~ Jenny Han

This is going to sound slightly stalkerish, but I can't help but notice you've decapitated Jack Skellington and put him on your ears." "What can I say?" Yvette shrugs. "I like bones." "So do I, actually, because our skeletons support a massive interconnected muscular structure and without them we would be blobs of flesh. Also we wouldn't have middle fingers to flip people off with. Are you in Room 14B?" Yvette's eyes widen. "Yeah, so you're -" "MY ROOMMATE!" I screech. A passing guy winces and flips me off. I loudly inform him he has his skeleton to thank for that. ~ Sara Wolf

She is quiet for a moment. "have you ever been swimming in the summer", she asks, "when a cloud comes in front of the sun? You know how, for a few seconds, you're absolutely freezing in th water and you think you'd better get out and dry off? But then all of a sudden the sun's back out and you're warm again and when you tell people how much fun you had swimming you wouldn't even think to mention those clouds." Cara shrugs. "That's what it's like, with my father." -Cara ~ Jodi Picoult

Here's the hell of it: madness doesn't announce itself. There isn't time to prepare for its coming. It shows up without calling and sits in your kitchen ashing in your plant. You ask how long it plans to stay; it shrugs its shoulders, gets up, and starts digging through the fridge. ~ Marya Hornbacher

The physical technique is important," I say. "But it's mostly a mental game, which is lucky for you, because you know how to play those. You don't just practice the shooting, you also practice the focus. And then, when you're in a situation where you're fighting for your life, the focus will be so ingrained that it will happen naturally."
"I didn't know the Dauntless were so interested in training the brain," Caleb says. "Can I see you try it, Tris? I don't think I've ever really seen you shoot something without a bullet wound in your shoulder."
Tris smiles a little and faces the target. When I first saw her shoot during Dauntless training, she looked awkward, birdlike. But her thin, fragile form has become slim but muscular, and when she holds the gun, it looks easy. She squints one eye a little, shifts her weight, and fires. Her bullet strays from the target's center, but only by inches. Obviously impressed, Caleb raises his eyebrows.
"Don't look so surprised!" Tris says.
"Sorry," he says. "I just…you used to be so clumsy, remember? I don't know how I missed that you weren't like that anymore."
Tris shrugs, but when she looks away, her cheeks are flushed and she looks pleased. Christina shoots again, and this time hits the target closer to the middle.
I step back to let Caleb practice, and watch Tris fire again, watch the straight lines of her body as she lifts the gun, and how steady she is when it goes off. I touch her shoulder and lean in cl ~ Veronica Roth

He leans over and snarls, "Yo' mama."
I grin. "She's yo' mama too, and I'm telling her you said that."
He opens up his arms, taunting me, "Do it. I'll tell her the real story about the dried basil leaves in your sock drawer."
The motherfucker. "It was yours! I was hiding it for you!"
He shrugs. "She don't know that. ~ Belle Aurora

He shrugs and brushes non-existent dirt off his shoulders. ~ Tomi Adeyemi

He takes out his cell and starts entering the address. "I was surprised to see you at Josh's party on Saturday," he says, his eyes glued to the screen.
"I don't know why. Everyone was there."
"Yeah, but you know…with Nan home and all, I just figured that you'd want to spend time with her."
"I have been spending time with Nan, thank you very much," I snap in annoyance. How dare he insinuate that I'd abandoned my sister? She's the one who made me go, who swore that it would make her somehow anxious to know I was "missing out"--her words, not mine.
"You and Patrick looked awfully cozy," Ryder says, setting Mama's note back on the counter.
So I was right--he had been watching us.
"So?"
"So, nothing." He shrugs. "Just making an observation."
"Yeah, you never just make an observation. Oh, and you and Rosie looked pretty cozy, too. I sure hope you're not leading her on. You know she likes you."
A muscle in his jaw works furiously as he shoves his cell phone back into his pocket. "That's the kind of guy you think I am? Seriously, Jem?"
I swallow hard, unable to reply. Because the truth is, I don't know.
"I'll see you later," he says, his voice cold and clipped. He turns and stalks out. ~ Kristi Cook

My dick and I reached an understanding." "Yeah? And what's that?" I ask curiously. He shrugs. "We both like you. ~ Sarina Bowen

Glances were exchanged around the table. There were some uneasy winces, a couple of ambivalent shrugs, a few determined nods, and one delighted giggle (but only because Duncan had spotted another funny caterpillar). ~ Christopher Healy

Four shrugs. "So I suggest that you take the next week to consider your fears and develop strategies to face them." "That doesn't sound fair," says Peter. "What if one person only has seven fears and someone else has twenty? That's not their fault." Four stares at him for a few seconds and then laughs. "Do you really want to talk to me about what's fair?" The crowd of initiates parts to make way for him as he walks toward Peter, folds his arms, and says, in a deadly voice, "I understand why you're worried, Peter. The events of last night certainly proved that you are a miserable coward." Peter stares back, expressionless. "So now we all know," says Four, quietly, "that you are afraid of a short, skinny girl from Abnegation." His mouth curls in a smile. ~ Veronica Roth

He shrugs. We were young back then and swept up in the excitement that we could throw out the old ways and rebuild the world. I'm older now and understand. Our plans weren't thorough enough back then. This time they are. ~ Richard Kadrey

Seriously? You've never done this for your friends before?" Trent shrugs. He manages to stay straight-faced for another three seconds before a sly smile betrays him. "Yeah, tons of times. But I liked letting you feel me up." A loud chorus of snickers and laughter erupts. They all knew he was playing me. How did they all know and I have no clue? Probably because I'm too busy drooling over his body to notice his practiced movements. ~ K.A. Tucker

Bat asks Goucher if his leg is good, and Goucher shrugs. "All right." "Good or all right?" "All right enough." Batliner has been through the ringer enough, so he gives Goucher some advice he hopes Goucher will heed, "Be brave enough to call it early. ~ Chris Lear

The enforcer takes an envelope from his side jacket pocket and drops it in one of the scummy puddles.
I look at Predo.
"You rehearse that move in advance?
He shrugs.
"Actually, not. This one has initiative. ~ Charlie Huston

"How do you do that?" I ask. "How do you always turn everything around on everyone else? Manipulate even those who know better than to believe you?"
Morpheus shrugs. "That's my power. My magic. Persuasion."
"No. Your power is poison." My pride raises its head again. "Just so you know, there's something you'll never persuade me to do."
He studies me, smug. "What's that?"
"Love you."
Morpheus's jewels turn pale blue, the color of anguish, and I revel in the knowledge that I cut him.
"Never say never," he murmurs. ~ A.G. Howard

It doesn't feel right. Not now."
"But you're the same, Jemma. You haven't changed. This is what you want, remember?"
"See, that's where you're wrong. I have changed. And"--I shake my head--"I don't even know what I want anymore."
He opens his mouth as if he's about to say something, but closes it just as quickly. A muscle in his haw flexes as he eyes me sharply, his brow furrowed. "I thought you were stronger than this," he says at last. "Braver." I start to protest, but he cuts me off. "When I get home, I'm going to e-mail you these video files. I don't know anything about making films, but if you need any help, well…" He shrugs. "You know my number."
With that, he turns and walks away.
I leap to the ground. "Ryder, wait!"
He stops and turns to face me. "Yeah?"
"I…about Patrick. And then…you and me. I feel awful about it. Things were so crazy during the storm, like it wasn't real life or something." I take a deep, gulping breath, my cheeks burning now. "I don't want you think that I'm, you know, some kind of--"
"Just stop right there." He holds out one hand. "I don't think anything like that, okay? It was…" He trails off, shaking his head. "Shit, Jemma. I'm not going to lie to you. It was nice. I'm glad I kissed you. I'm pretty sure I've been wanting to for…well, a long time now."
"You did a pretty good job hiding it, that's for sure."
"It's just that…well, I've had to listen to seventeen years' worth of how you're the perfec ~ Kristi Cook

Getting tired already, minnow?" Toraf taunts as he wraps strong arms around Galen's neck in a choke hold.
Galen promptly flips him forward and onto his back. Toraf bounces once with the force. "You must have been drinking salt water," Galen returns, "to have delusions like that."
Toraf kicks Galen's legs out from under him, and the scuffle is taken to the floor. Just when I wonder how long this can really go on, the older Syrena steps into the dining room and confirms his identity with the authority in his voice. "That's enough. Get up."
Toraf scrambles to his feet and steps away from Galen, who reluctantly complies. "Yes, Highness. Sorry, Highness," Toraf says, breathless. There is not a small amount of shame on Toraf's face.
In fact, even Galen looks conscience stricken. "Apologies, King Antonis," he says quickly. "I didn't see you there."
King Antonis. Mom's dad. My grandfather. Holy!
Antonis lifts his chin, satisfied. "I didn't think so."
Mom steps over the dish debris and embraces her dad. "Thank you for interrupting. It was getting a tad boring. It was obvious no one would win."
Mom is such a dude sometimes. Grom winks at Galen, who shrugs. ~ Anna Banks

You should have just left me there."

He pulls out of the cemetery and onto the road. "Don't be so dramatic. Besides I told you I would never leave you. Just like you never left me."

"I think you've repaid that debt, Jackson Gray."

He shakes his head. "So quickly you forget our pact."

I put my foot on his dash and hold my hands in front of the vents. I still can't believe he's still rescuing me, years later. "Who could forget that. You were cowering on the floor of the library."

"I wasn't cowering."

"Okay. You were leaning down to get a book when large bullies materialized in front of you." I glance at him. "Is that better?"

He rolls his eyes. "No one's ever done something like that for me before. Even though I'd never admit a girl fought one of my battles."

I adjust the seat belt so it's tighter. "Get over it, Jackson Gray. I did what anyone would do."

"No one else would have stuck up for the new kid." He shrugs. "Is that the type of person you'd leave freezing in a cemetery?"

"You mean, you'd leave other people freezing in a cemetery?"

He sighs and nudges me in the shoulder. "Just shut up. ~ Erica M. Chapman

You go first," Four says. Eric shrug. "Edward." Four leans against the door frame and nods. The moonlight makes his eyes bright. He scans the group of transfer initiates briefly, without calculation and says, "I want the Stiff." ...
Heat rushes into my cheeks and I don't know whether to be angry at the people laughing at me or flattered by the fact that he chose me first. "Got something to prove?" asks Eric, with his trademark smirk. "Or you just picking the weak ones, so that if you lose, you'll have someone to blame it on?" Four shrugs. "Something like that." Angry. I should be angry. I scowl at my hands. Whatever Four's strategy is, it's based on the idea that I am weaker than the other initiates. And it gives me a bitter taste in my mouth. i have to prove him wrong
I have to. ~ Veronica Roth

Unwrapping the paper carefully so it doesn't tear, I find a beautiful red leather box. Cartier. It's familiar, thanks to my second-chance earrings and my watch. Cautiously, I open the box to discover a delicate charm bracelet of silver or platinum or white gold - I don't know, but it's absolutely enchanting. Attached to it are several charms: the Eiffel Tower; a London black cab; a helicopter - Charlie Tango; a glider - the soaring, a catamaran - The Grace; a bed; and an ice cream cone? I look up at him, bemused. "Vanilla?" He shrugs apologetically( ... ) ~ E.L. James

He makes a face and tosses the flower at me. It lands on my cheek, and I pick it up and twirl it between my fingers. I could lie out here all day, not moving an inch, feeling the sun above and the grass below. With a contented sigh, I stretch my arms wide, raking the grass with my fingers - and find myself brushing Aladdin's hand with my own. I pull it away quickly, my cheeks warming. He laughs a little.
"Sometimes," he says, "I forget you're supposed to be four thousand years old. You act as shy as a girl of sixteen."
"I do not!" I sit up and glare at him.
He grins and shrugs, sliding his hands under his head. There are bits of grass stuck in his hair, and after a moment's hesitation, I reach over and flick them away.
Aladdin watches me silently, his throat bobbing as he swallows. I drop my gaze. ~ Jessica Khoury

To an Ohio boy, it represented world-weary Gallic shrugs and Gauloises cigarettes, existentialist thinkers in berets and Catherine Deneuve in nothing at all - French was the language of intellectual power and effortless sex appeal. ~ Michael Dirda

And indeed nothing had happened, a momentous nothing, just another of the great world's shrugs of indifference. ~ John Banville

Which way? Lady's choice."
She glances in both directions and shrugs as she points to her right. "Always go right and you'll never go wrong. ~ Georgia Cates

Better take her uniform -- all that gear," the second MetaCop suggests, not
unlewdly.
The manager looks at Y.T., trying not to let his gaze travel sinfully up and
down her body. For thousands of years his people have survived on alertness:
waiting for Mongols to come galloping over the horizon, waiting for repeat
offenders to swing sawed-off shotguns across their check-out counters. His
alertness right now is palpable and painful; he's like a goblet of hot
nitroglycerin. The added question of sexual misconduct makes it even worse. To
him it's no joke.
Y.T. shrugs, trying to think of something unnerving and wacky. At this point,
she is supposed to squeal and shrink, wriggle and whine, swoon and beg. They
are threatening to take her clothes. How awful. But she does not get upset
because she knows that they are expecting her to.
A Kourier has to establish space on the pavement. Predictable law-abiding
behavior lulls drivers. They mentally assign you to a little box in the lane,
assume you will stay there, can't handle it when you leave that little box.
Y.T. is not fond of boxes. Y.T. establishes her space on the pavement by
zagging mightily from lane to lane, establishing a precedent of scary
randomness. Keeps people on their toes, makes them react to her, instead of the
other way round. Now these men are trying to put her in a box, make her follow
rules.
She unzips her cover ~ Neal Stephenson

A seeker has heard that the wisest guru in all of India lives atop India's highest mountain. So the seeker treks over hill and Delhi until he reaches the fabled mountain. It's incredibly steep, and more than once he slips and falls. By the time he reaches the top, he is full of cuts and bruises, but there is the guru, sitting cross-legged in front of his cave. "O, wise guru," the seeker says, "I have come to you to ask what the secret of life is." "Ah, yes, the secret of life," the guru says. "The secret of life is a teacup." "A teacup? I came all the way up here to find the meaning of life, and you tell me it's a teacup!" The guru shrugs. "So maybe it isn't a teacup. ~ Thomas Cathcart

I have a theory that the world is broken up into two kinds of people."
"Yeah?"
"Yep. On the one side are the people who love the Harry Pottery books and wish that they could attend Hogwarts and have Ron and Hermione for best friends and vanquish Death Eaters and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."
She's smiling at me, and she's just so fucking cute. I have to ask: "And the other side?"
Aimee shrugs. "Douchebags. ~ Autumn Doughton

I'm Perfect at Feelings,

so I have no problem telling you

why you cried over the third lost

metal or the mousetrap. I knew

that orgasms weren't your fault

and that feeling of keeping solid

in yourself but wanting an ecstatic

black hole was just bad beauty.



Certain loves were perfect

in the daytime and had every

right to express carnally behind

the copy machine and there are

no hard feelings for the boozy

sodomy and sorry XX daisy chain,

whenever it felt right for you.



And when the moment of soft

levitation with erasing hands

made you feel dirty, like

the main person to think up love

in the first place, I knew that.

It's okay, you're an innocent

with the brilliance of an animal

stuffing yourself sick on a kill.

Don't, don't feel like the runt alien

on my ship: I get you. I know

the dimensions of your wishing

and losing and don't think you

a glutton with petty beefs. But

even I, who know your triggers,



your emblematic sacs of sad fury,

I understand why the farthest fat trees

sliver down with your disappointment

and why the big sense of the world,

wrong before you, shrugs but

somewhere grasps your spinning,

stunning, alone. But you have me. ~ Brenda Shaughnessy