Sip Quotes

Well, I guess that answers my question." The deep velvet voice startles me.
I jump, grab my pillow like I'm going to use it as a weapon.
Will stands in the doorway, sipping from a metallic travel mug. His gray T-shirt stretches across his shoulders and chest in a way that makes my throat close up.
"What question?" I ask, breathless.
"Whether you're as beautiful in the morning as you are during the rest of the day."
"Oh," I say dumbly, pushing the tangle of hair back off my shoulders, certain I don't look good right now, just rolling out of bed. Not that I take pains with my appearance on the average day, but still...who looks their best fresh out of bed? "You're here again," I murmur.
"Apparently."
"Can't stay away?"
"Apparently not."
I'm okay with that. Great, in fact.
"I made you breakfast," he adds.
"You can cook?" I'm impressed.
He grins. "I live in a bachelor household, remember? My mom died when I was a kid. I hardly remember her. I kind of had to learn to cook."
"Oh," I murmur, then sit up straighter. "Wait a minute. How'd you get in here?"
"Opened the front door." He takes another sip from his mug and looks at me like I'm in trouble. "Your mom really should lock the door when she leaves."
I arch a brow. "Would that have kept you out?"
He smiles a little. "You know me well. ~ Sophie Jordan

We swallow greedily any lie that flatters us, but we sip only little by little at a truth we find bitter. ~ Denis Diderot

Chris, soap people are like
us-they seldom go outdoors. And when they do, we only hear about it,
never see it. They loll about in living rooms, bedrooms, sit in the
kitchens and sip coffee or stand up and drink martinis-but never, never
go outside before our eyes. And whenever something good happens,
whenever they think they're finally going to be happy, some catastrophe
comes along to dash their hopes. ~ V.C. Andrews

He takes a sip of his drink, leaving behind a milk mustache he quickly wipes away. It's then I realize where I recognize him from: the milk advertisements. Sweet Lord, I've been jilling off to him. ~ Helena Hunting

So I take it you and Gansey get along, then?" Maura's expression was annoyingly knowing.
"Mom."
"Orla told me about his muscle car," Maura continued. Her voice was still angry and artificially bright. The fact that Blue was well aware that she'd earned it made the sting of it even worse. "You aren't planning on kissing him, are you?"
"Mom, that will never happen," Blue assured her. "You did meet him, didn't you?"
"I wasn't sure if driving an old, loud Camaro was the male equivalent of shredding your T-shirts and gluing cardboard trees to your bedroom walls."
"Trust me," Blue said. "Gansey and I are nothing like each other. And they aren't cardboard. They're repurposed canvas."
"The environment breathes a sigh of relief." Maura attempted another sip of her drink; wrinkling her nose, she shot a glare at Persephone. Persephone looked martyred. After a pause, Maura noted, in a slightly softer voice, "I'm not entirely happy about you're getting in a car without air bags."
"Our car doesn't have air bags," Blue pointed out.
Maura picked a long strand of Persephone's hair from the rim of her glass. "Yes, but you always take your bike."
Blue stood up. She suspected that the green fuzz of the sofa was now adhered to the back of her leggings. "Can I go now? Am I in trouble?"
"You are in trouble. I told you to stay away from him and you didn't," Maura said. "I just haven't decided what to do about it yet. My feelings are hurt. I've consul ~ Maggie Stiefvater

Eva," Jason said, leaning over to his fiancée as I took a seat next to Tyler. "How you doin'?"
Eva made a face and pushed him away. "Nope, doesn't work for everyone. Not even you."
"But it's "The Joey"-- it has to work!" Jason said, sitting back and taking a sip from his water bottle. ~ Alexandria Rhodes

I can see myself sitting all day in my chair, immersed in lives, plots, and sentences, intoxicated by words and chimeras, paralyzed by satisfaction and contentment, reading until the deepening twilight, until I can no longer make out the words, until my mind begins to wander, until my aching muscles are no longer able to keep the book aloft. Joy is the anticipation of joy. Reading a fine book for the first time is as sumptuous as the first sip of orange juice that breaks the fast in Ramadan. ~ Rabih Alameddine

I can't stop myself from reaching for the bottle that's under my seat. I've gone all night without a sip, but it's not about being addicted. It's about being told what to do my whole life and doing it and then losing everything anyway. ~ A.S. King

Who knows why you kids do any of the crap you do?"
"And who knows why you guys are such assholes?" Lex countered, taking a sip of her soda. "Life is just full of little mysteries, isn't it? ~ Gina Damico

Who doesn't love a compliment? But every compliment comes with a warning: Beware - Do Not Overuse. Go ahead, sniff your compliment. Take a little sip. But don't chew, don't swallow. If you do, you risk abandoning the good work that inspired the compliment in the first place. If that happens, maybe it was the compliment and not the job well done that you were aiming for all along. ~ Jerry Spinelli

Tyler said, taking a sip of Coke. He'd begun to notice a bit too much blood in his alcohol system lately. ~ John Ringo

Birfdays was the worst days,
Now we sip champagne when we thirstay uh ~ The Notorious B.I.G.

Eric Steele was strapped in and rubbing a rag over his father's 1911. Demo had brought the pistol with the rest of Steele's
gear on board the C-17. In the cockpit, the pilot pushed the throttle forward, shoving Steele back in his seat. He barely
noticed because he was thinking about the first time his father let him hold the pistol. It had felt so heavy in his hands
back then.


So much I never got to ask him.

He ran his thumb over the spot where the serial number should have been. It was silver and all traces of the file marks were
smoothed out by years of use. The pistol was one of John Moses Browning's masterpieces, the same design that the American
infantryman had carried in the Battle of Belleau Wood, Iwo Jima, Korea, and Vietnam. It was the only thing he had to remind
him of the father he never really knew.


Steele had made the pistol his own by modifying it to shoot 9mm, adding a threaded barrel, and installing suppressor sights,
which were taller than the factory ones. It was his gun now, and he slipped it away before taking an amphetamine tablet out
of his pocket and downing it with a sip of water. ~ Sean Parnell

The bee and the serpent often sip from the selfsame flower. ~ Pietro Metastasio

Colton picked up a glass of cider and tok a sip. "We're not a couple, Olivia and I, so if you want to flirt with me, it's all right." He was teasing, but there was also truth mixed into this game. Perhaps more than he knew, and I felt as though everything inside of me was stretched tight.
I didn't want to face him, so I kept my gaze centered out on the dance floor. "I see. Should I bat my eyelashes or were you thinking along the lines of pointless small talk?"
"Actually, I like the way you keep looking at me."
"I don't keep looking at you."
"Yes, you do."
I didn't look at him, just to prove the point. ~ Janette Rallison

You say my name like a lover, so soft, so sweet. I want to lick the word from your lips, sip the exhaled breath from your mouth. I want to possess you utterly. Right now. Right here. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

Here we are, kiddies, sitting like a bug in a rug, snugly, surrounded by a battalion of bloodsuckers who wish no more than to sip freely of my bonded, 100 proof hemoglobin. Have a drink, men, this one's really on me. ~ Richard Matheson

I envied the men. I envied the irresponsibility their surroundings and genitals allowed. I envied the artificial affection they bought. But most of all, I envied that flicker of euphoria they got to feel, like a quick sip of whiskey that warmed their chest and eased their pain. ~ Maggie Young

Someone is getting married tonight! Woooooooo…"
"Yep," I said, taking that first glorious sip of java. "Hard to believe, isn't it?"
Mike put his hand over his mouth and snickered. Then he asked, "So…are you guys gonna do some…some kissin'?"
"I certainly hope so," I said. This only served to make Mike laugh harder.
"Ooooooh!" he squealed. "Are you gonna have a baby?"
Oh, Lord. ~ Ree Drummond

It's like an addiction, one I battle every day. It appeared at first drink. I was becoming the very thing I feared---my father's son. I wanted to be as far away from that Threshold as possible. I swore I'd never take another sip, no matter how crazy it made me. No matter how much it called to me. Resisting became easier with time. ~ Sara Ella

He pointed to a chair opposite him. "Sit." Another sip. "I'm hiding from commitment."
"Who's evil enough to name a girl that?" I asked, and sat down. ~ Isabelle Crusoe

O shoe, leather ship that sails our cement rivers and woven seas, steering by the star of fashion, circumnavigating hostile reefs of tar and bubble gum; one hour, a tanker ferrying champagne to a playboy's sip; the next, a raft in the slime; bon voyage, bright barge! May you dock in calm closets, safe from the rape of shoe trees. ~ Tom Robbins

It doesn't matter if you don't burn. Protect your skin so you don't end up looking like an old leather bag." That's what Stormy used to tell me.
Kitty giggles at "old leather bag." "Like Mrs. Letty. Her skin is hot dog-colored."
"Well, I wasn't talking about any one person in particular. But yeah. She should've worn sunscreen in her younger days. Let that be a lesson to you, my sister." Mrs. Letty is our neighbor, and her skin hangs on her like crepe.
Peter puts on his sunglasses. "You guys are mean."
"Says the guy who once toilet-papered her lawn!"
Kitty giggles and steals a sip of my Coke. "You did that?"
"All lies and propaganda," Peter says blithely. ~ Jenny Han

It was indeed a long wait, well over two hours. I sat in the car and listened to the radio
and tried to picture, bite by bite, what it was like to eat a medianochesandwich: the
crackle of the bread crust, socrisp and toasty it scratches the inside of your mouth as you
bite down. Then the first taste of mustard, followed by the soothing cheese and the salt of
the meat. Next bite - a piece of pickle. Chew it all up; let the flavors mingle. Swallow.
Take a big sip of Iron Beer (pronounced Ee-roan Bay-er, and it's a soda). Sigh. Sheer
bliss. I would rather eat than do anything else except play with the Passenger. It's a true
miracle of genetics that I am not fat. ~ Jeff Lindsay

I had hooked up my iPod to the speakers. The air was filled with the raw, sexy purr of Etta James. "The thing that's great about the blues," I told Luke, pausing to sip from my glass of wine, "is that it's about feeling, loving, wanting without the brakes on. No one's brave enough to live that way. Except maybe musicians. ~ Lisa Kleypas

We used to do sock puppet shows for my auntie back in the day. Me and my friends would do accents of Englishmen, and we would sip tea and act like we were rich in front of the family, and they thought it was just hilarious, the level of perception that we had about things that we'd never experienced. ~ Keith Stanfield

It's a smile, it's a kiss, it's a sip of wine ... it's summertime! ~ Kenny Chesney

He passed into the galley and was greeted by a cloud of fragrant steam. The exotic scent of spices mingled with the tang of roasting meat. Startled, Gabriel choked on a sip from a tankard. In the corner, Stubb quickly shoved something behind his back. The old men's eyes shone with more than holiday merriment.
"Happy Christmas, Gray." Gabriel extended the tankard to him. "Here. We poured you some wine."
Gray waved it off with a chuckle. "That my new Madeira you're sampling?"
Gabriel nodded as he downed another sip. "Thought I should taste it before you serve it to company. You know, to be certain it ain't poisoned." He drained the mug and set it down with a smile. "No, sir. Not poisoned."
"And the figs? The olives? The spices? I assume you checked them all, too? For caution's sake, of course."
"Of course," Stubb said, pulling his own mug from behind his back and taking a healthy swallow. "Everyone knows you can't trust a Portuguese trader."
Gray laughed. He plucked an olive from a dish on the table and popped it into his mouth. Rich oil coated his tongue. "Did you find the crate easily enough?" he asked Stubb, reaching for another olive.
The old steward nodded. "It's all laid out, just so. Candles, too."
"Feels like Christmas proper." Gabriel tilted his head. "Miss Turner even gave me a gift."
Gray followed the motion, squinting through the steam.
I'll be damned. ~ Tessa Dare

Zachary picks up her glass of wine from the table and takes a sip of it. It tastes like winter sun and melting snow, bubbles bright and sharp and bursting.
There is a story here for each bubble in each bottle, in every glass in every sip.
And when the wine is gone the stories will remain. ~ Erin Morgenstern

We'll get into the plane and you'll have a cup of coffee, even a sip of brandy is permissible. And you'll think. Think hard. So hard I can hear your brains creaking. And it will be very good if by the time we reach Edinburgh you already know how to get the Crown of All Things. Because we don't have any time to spare. Only twelve hours until the bomb goes off."
"You bastard," I said.
"No, I'm a highly effective personnel manager," Edgar said, with a smile. ~ Sergei Lukyanenko

An Irishman walks into a pub," she begins and the bar went silent. "The bartender asks him, 'What'll you have?'" Her Irish accent was spot on. "The man says, 'Give me three pints of Guinness, please.' The bartender brings him three pints and the man proceeds to alternately sip one, then the other, then the third until they're gone. He then orders three more.

"The bartender says, 'Sir, no need to order as many at a time. I'll keep an eye on it and when you get low, I'll bring you a fresh one.' The man replies, 'You don't understand. I have two brothers, one in Australia and one in the States. We made a vow to each other that every Saturday night we'd still drink together. So right now, me brothers have three Guinness stouts too, and we're drinking together.'

"The bartender thought this a wonderful tradition and every week the man came in and ordered three beers." January's playing and voice became more solemn, dramatic. "But one week, he ordered only two." The crowd oohed and ahhed. "He slowly drank them," she continued darkly, "and then ordered two more. The bartender looked at him sadly. 'Sir, I know your tradition, and, agh, I'd just like to say that I'm sorry for your loss.'

"The man looked on him strangely before it finally dawned on him. 'Oh, me brothers are fine - I just quit drinking. ~ Fisher Amelie

All the people within reach had suspended their business, or their idleness, to run to the spot and drink the wine. The rough, irregular stones of the street, pointing every way, and designed, one might have thought, expressly to lame all living creatures that approached them, had dammed it into little pools; these were surrounded, each by its own jostling group or crowd, according to its size. Some men kneeled down, made scoops of their two hands joined, and sipped, or tried to help women, who bent over their shoulders, to sip, before the wine had all run out between their fingers. Others, men and women, dipped in the puddles with little mugs of mutilated earthenware, or even with handkerchiefs from women's heads, which were squeezed dry into infants' mouths; others made small mud-embankments, to stem the wine as it ran; others, directed by lookers-on up at high windows, darted here and there, to cut off little streams of wine that started away in new directions; others devoted themselves to the sodden and lee-dyed pieces of the cask, licking, and even champing the moister wine-rotted fragments with eager relish. There was no drainage to carry off the wine, and not only did it all get taken up, but so much mud got taken up along with it, that there might have been a scavenger in the street, if anybody acquainted with it could have believed in such a miraculous presence. ~ Charles Dickens

In the resolved quiet of the heart it was possible to say "Give up; it's done," but in practice, hopelessness was too bitter wine for drinking day after day. One would steal a little sip of sweetness and wonder, "What if...? ~ Kai Ashante Wilson

She picked up the stout and took a sip. It slid down her throat like silk. ~ Sara Sheridan

( ... )"He said we all have this different idea of what love is and that's what makes our circle. The more ideas and misconceptions you throw in, the larger the diameter and the harder it is to connect with someone. We," he said, squeezing Hunter's hand and signaling Margie and everyone around them, "all sit around the edge looking at everyone else around the circle. Sometimes we just settle for the person next to us because it's easy or convenient and we skip our way around its circumference, never really knowing what love is all about."
He took a sip of his Coke and kept his eyes on Margie. "But other times, you see that person across from you, staring back at you, and you fight like hell trying to get across while he does the same. If you're lucky, there's a rope you can toss over and help draw each other in, never looking away, never worrying about those still on the circumference; just you and him, pulling each other in, deeper and deeper." ~ Brandon Shire

If the October days were a cordial like the sub-acids of fruit, these are a tonic like the wine of iron. Drink deep or be careful how you taste this December vintage. The first sip may chill, but a full draught warms and invigorates. ~ John Burroughs

ASSOCIATIVE MEMORY
In Proust's Swann's Way a sip of tea and a bite of a small scallopshaped cake known as a petite madeleine cause the narrator to find himself suddenly flooded with memories from his past. At first he is puzzled, but then, slowly, after much effort on his part, he remembers that his aunt used to give him tea and madeleines when he was a little boy, and it is this association that has stirred his memory. We have all had similar experiences - a whiff of a particular food being prepared, or a glimpse of some long-forgotten object - that suddenly evoke some scene out of our past. The holographic idea offers a further analogy for the associative tendencies of memory. This is illustrated by yet another kind of holographic recording technique. First, the light of a single laser beam is bounced off two objects simultaneously, say an easy chair and a smoking pipe. The light bounced off each object is then allowed to collide, and the resulting interference pattern is captured on film. Then, whenever the easy chair is illuminated with laser light and the light that reflects off the easy chair is passed through the film, a three-dimensional image of the pipe will appear. Conversely, whenever the same is done with the pipe, a hologram of the easy chair appears. So, if our brains function holographically, a similar process may be responsible for the way certain objects evoke specific memories from our past ~ Michael Talbot

The question, then, is how do we stop the nightmares?" Malcolm asks.
"I've got a solution," Six says, and everyone looks in her direction. She takes a considering sip from a mug of coffee. "Let's go kill Setrákus Ra."
Nine claps his hands and points at Six. "I like the way this chick thinks. ~ Pittacus Lore

I was always going to the bookcase for another sip of the divine specific. ~ Virginia Woolf

When you get organized, I want you to sit down. Sip some coffee and look out of the window at all the other people rushing around to go somewhere.
Makes you glad that you're where you are, doesn't it? ~ Anthony T. Hincks

We clinked glasses. I took a sip. The tiny bubbles melted in my mouth and journeyed northward into my brain. Sweet. ~ John Green

People seldom think of soup for summer, so they are unusual - an interesting, unusual touch for the first course or for dessert. I find cold soups very refreshing. I serve them in cups rather than in bowls, usually, and let people sip them. You don't really need a spoon for soups that are all one consistency. ~ Ruth Glick

And ultimately, they find out everything: How you chew, how you sip, how you hum, how you dance. How you smell at every point in the day, how you are on the phone with your mother, the fact that many of your friends are shallow, that you always have to sit on the aisle, how you never really listen, how whiny you get when you travel, how you're not gracious to her friends when they call, how certain game shows make you really really happy, how cranky you get because you're too stupid to remember to eat, how you manage to get confrontational only when it's with the absolute wrong person to be yelling at, how you don't like the way you look in any picture you've taken since 1973, how you're unable to get off the phone when you're running late because you don't have the ability to say, "This isn't a good time; can I call you back?" How you have to lick certain fruits before actually eating them, how you have no ability to save receipts - all these things, and they still want to sign on. They still like you. ~ Paul Reiser

When everyone is seated, Galen uses a pot holder to remove the lid from the huge speckled pan in the center of the table. And I almost upchuck. Fish. Crabs. And...is that squid hair? Before I can think of a polite version of the truth-I'd rather eat my own pinky finger than seafood-Galen plops the biggest piece of fish on my plate, then scoops a mixture of crabmeat and scallops on top of it. As the steam wafts its way to my nose, my chances of staying polite dwindle. The only think I can think of is to make it look like I'm hiccupping instead of gagging. What did I smell earlier that almost had me salivating? It couldn't have been this.
I fork the fillet and twist, but it feels like twisting my own gut. Mush it, dice it, mix it all up. No matter what I do, how it looks, I can't bring it near my mouth. A promise is a promise, dream or no dream. Even if real fish didn't save me in Granny's pond, the fake ones my imagination conjured up sure comforted me until help arrived. And now I'm expected to eat their cousins? No can do.
I set the fork down and sip some water. I sense Galen is watching. Out of my peripheral, I see the others shoveling the chum into their faces. But not Galen. He sits still, head tilted, waiting for me to take a bite first.
Of all the times to be a gentleman! What happened to the guy who sprawled me over his lap like a three-year-old just a few minutes ago? Still, I can't do it. And they don't even have a dog for me to feed under the table, w ~ Anna Banks

If Eli really was a hero, and Victor meant to stop him, did that make him a villain?
He took a long sip of his drink, tipped his head back against the couch, and decided he could live with that. ~ Victoria Schwab

In an instant, five harlequin-like clowns emerged and began to perform all kinds of acrobatic tricks, encircling us––correction...corralling us. They were graceful but a little creepy too. They were wearing black and white costumes that were form fitting and appeared to move like some psychedelic drug trip when they flipped around. That of course was odd, but not nearly as odd as the chant they were singing as they continued to perform their tricks.
See us dance.
Watch us flip.
Care to take a chance?
We'll only need a sip.
Come to see our mistress?
Or come to see our master?
She can be quite viscous.
But he is a disaster.
We love them both, and we'll let you choose.
Either way, we wouldn't want to be in your shoes. ~ Brynn Myers

Gerri took the glass from her hand and readied to sip. "So what's this drink called?" She pressed her lips together, trying to stop herself from giggling. "Adios Motherfucker." Gerri's ~ Milly Taiden

It takes a while to understand this," Vaughn says to me, "but there's enough room in a life for failure and loss." He picks up his coffee and takes a big sip, swivels in his stool. "You can really fuck up in your life. You can fuck up and then have things be okay. ~ Celona Marjorie

He could still remember how the first sip of wine made him feel. ~ Dianne Harman

If you had to choose between coffee and - "
"Coffee."
"You didn't know what I was going to say," Sloane laughed.
Dex shook his head. "Doesn't matter. Coffee."
"Me or coffee."
"Coffee."
"Wow. Okay, sex or coffee."
"Coffee."
"Your brother or - "
"Coffee. I would totally trade my brother for a good cup of coffee." He took a sip with a contented sigh. His gaze shifted to Sloane. "Okay, maybe I wouldn't trade him in for coffee. Although…." He pursed his lips thoughtfully then shook his head. "No, you're right, that would be wrong. ~ Charlie Cochet

Oh, for God's sake." Westhaven sounded most displeased. "Evie just switched her glass of wassail for Deene's, and the idiot man didn't even notice." Maggie's brows knit. "Why does that matter?" "Because," St. Just said as Westhaven moved off, "Deene's is spiked with a dose of the loveliest white rum ever to knock a grown man on his arse." Maggie took a little sip of her drink. "So's mine." Val reached over and plucked her glass from her hand. "Then you'd better share, sister dear, or I'm going to go fetch Sindal here myself." *** ~ Grace Burrowes

When he was finished, he set his plate down, looked at me, and raised an eyebrow.
I leaned forward and whispered angrily, "I am not going to sit on your lap, so don't get your hopes up, Mister."
He still waited until I picked up a fork and took a few bites. I speared a bite of macadamia nut crusted ruby snapper and said, "Whew. Time's up. Isn't it? The clock is ticking. You must be sweating it, huh? I mean, you could turn any second."
He just took a bite of curried lamb and then some saffron rice and sat there chewing as cool as a cucumber.
I watched him closely for a full two minutes and then folded up my napkin.
"Okay, I give. Why are you acting so smug and confident? When are you going to tell me what's going on?"
He wiped his mouth carefully and took a sip of water. "What's going on, my prema, is that the curse has been lifted."
My mouth dropped open. "What? If it was lifted, why were you a tiger for the last two days?"
"Well, to be clear, the curse is not completely gone. I seem to have been granted a partial removal of the curse."
"Partial? Partial meaning what, exactly?"
"Partial, meaning a certain number of hours per day. Six hours to be exact."
I recited the prophecy in my mind and remembered that there were four sides to the monolith, and four times six was…"Twenty-four."
He paused. "Twenty-four what?"
"Well, six hours makes sense because there are four gifts to obtain for Durga and four sides of the m ~ Colleen Houck

I ne'er could any lustre see In eyes that would not look on me; I ne'er saw nectar on a lip But where my own did hope to sip. ~ Richard Brinsley Sheridan

I'm a big believer in first impressions," he finally said. "Tell me what your first thought was when Jason walked into the courtroom."
Taylor took a sip of her drink and grinned. This one was easy. "I vowed to hate him forever."
Jeremy's brown eyes twinkled at this. "That's exactly what I said nineteen years ago, five minutes after he first walked into our dorm room. ~ Julie James

Taylor held a finger up to Val and Kate. "Hold that thought for a second while I get this."
As she headed into the living room, she overheard Kate mumble to Val, "Hold what thought? I haven't understood a word she's said yet."
Taylor unlocked her front door and opened it. Before she could react, Jason barreled right in, all fired up.
"Where have you been?? I tried calling you - is your cell phone off? I need you to tell me who the hell I can sue. I just met with Marty - we got back the mock-ups for the new publicity posters the studio's going to use to promote Inferno ."
Jason stormed into the kitchen, so engrossed in his rant he didn't notice Valerie and Kate. He opened Taylor's fridge and helped himself to a bottled water.
"And get this," he fumed angrily, "the dumbasses who designed the posters have me pictured in this scene where I'm putting out a fire with all these other firemen. But if you look at the poster from the side, the water from the hose of one of the other firefighters looks like it's shooting right out of my crotch. And the best part is, they want to put this poster over the theater entrance for the premiere. I can just see it - " He gestured grandly to the air. " 'Come see Inferno! Get pissed on by Jason Andrews!'"
With that, he threw Taylor a wink. "It should be right up your alley."
Finished with his rant, Jason took a sip of water. Then he finally noticed Kate and Val. He smiled charmingly.
"Oh. People. Hello."
Julie James

Even if she had realized that she had a problem, she would not have cared. All she knew was that with each sip she took, the better she felt: her fear receded, her misery disappeared and her confidence grew. ~ Toni Maguire

Coffee is a lot like people. In many ways, it's deceiving. The sweetness that you smell as it brews is more often than not a fallacy. The scent of a dark roasted coffee bean promises you rich flavors with hints of chocolate and hazelnut, but if you're not used to coffee's deceptiveness, you're left with a bitter aftertaste dangling at the back of your throat. To those of us who are used to it- we've grown a fondness for that bitter taste. It's complex. It's teasing. It reminds us that most things in life are not consistently sweet with every sip. One morning, your coffee might brew mild with just a flirtation of nutty undertones, And the next morning, it might be pelting you in the face with those same nuts, leaving little stinging marks with each sip. It's moody. It's not easy to perfect. But when you get the perfect brew, it's rewarding. And that same perfection is not guaranteed tomorrow just because you managed it today. ~ Katana Collins

Peter's mom told me he was talking about transferring to UNC next year. She wanted me to break up with him before he messed up his life for me."
"Damn! Peter's mom is kind of a bitch!"
"She didn't use those exact words, but that was the gist of it." I take a sip of tea. "I wouldn't want him to transfer for me either…My mom used to say not to go to college with a boyfriend, because you'll lose out on a true freshman experience."
"Well, to be fair, your mom never met Peter Kavinsky. She didn't have all the facts. If she had met him…" Trina lets out a low whistle. "She might've been singing a different tune."
Tears fill my eyes. "Honestly I regret breaking up with him and I wish I could take it all back!"
She tips up my chin. "Then why don't you?"
"I don't think he'll ever forgive me for hurting him like that. He doesn't let people in easily. I think I'm probably dead to him."
Trina tries to hide a smile. "I doubt that. Look, you'll talk to him at the wedding tomorrow. When he sees you in that dress, all will be forgiven."
I sniffle. "I'm sure he's not coming."
"I'm sure he is. You don't plan a man's bachelor party and then not show to the wedding. Not to mention the fact that he's crazy about you."
"But what if I hurt him again?"
She wraps both her hands around her mug of tea and takes a sip. "You can't protect him from being hurt, babe, no matter what you do. Being vulnerable, letting people in, getting hurt…it's all a par ~ Jenny Han

Leah tilted her chin and smiled. "I thought we disliked each other."
"Oh, we do," he said, taking another sip. "I detest you quite thoroughly. Especially when you smile."
Her lips flattened. "Do you?"
He gestured toward her with the drink, the liquid sloshing out the side to drip over his thigh. Leah's gaze followed the brandy's path where it darkened on his trousers, then jerked upward again as he spoke. "You're too bloody happy. It's very offensive. ~ Ashley March

Justine pulled her Jag over to the side of the road and stared out at the landscape. I twirled the dial on her police band radio until the signal was clear. She opened her thermos, passed it over to me. I took a sip. The coffee was black, unsugared. That's the way Justine liked just about everything: straight up, no bullshit. ~ James Patterson

I wasn't terribly surprised to find Greg standing outside the door to my suite. But I was impressed when he handed me a mug of hot coffee.

"I don't know what a xenophobic hermit requires in the morning, so I made coffee." His voice was hushed.

"Coffee works," I whispered and took a sip of the black liquid, found it magnificently strong, "as long as it was made with the tears of women and children."

Greg flashed me a grin that made my stomach do backflips. "Is there any other way to make coffee? ~ Penny Reid

Fruit fly scientists, God bless 'em, are the big exceptions. Morgan's team always picked sensibly descriptive names for mutant genes, like 'speck,' 'beaded,' 'rudimentary,' 'white,' and 'abnormal.' And this tradition continues today, as the names of most fruit fly genes eschew jargon and even shade whimsical… The 'turnip' gene makes flies stupid. 'Tudor' leaves males (as with Henry VIII) childless. 'Cleopatra' can kill flies when it interacts with another gene, 'asp.' 'Cheap date' leaves flies exceptionally tipsy after a sip of alcohol… And thankfully, this whimsy with names has inspired the occasional zinger in other areas of genetics… The backronym for the "POK erythroid myeloid ontogenic" gene in mice - 'pokemon' - nearly provoked a lawsuit, since the 'pokemon' gene (now known, sigh, as 'zbtb7') contributes to the spread of cancer, and the lawyers for the Pokemon media empire didn't want their cute little pocket monsters confused with tumors. ~ Sam Kean

The cultural propaganda embodied in two liquor advertisements, "Living well is the best revenge" and "Sip it with arrogance," have a curious, perhaps demonic appeal. Consumerism indeed has its own spirituality. ~ Brennan Manning

Pause while reading a book only in case of two things:
1. To kiss
2. To sip coffee
Too bad both are a luxury. ~ Saleem Sharma

Lips unused to thee, Bashful, sip thy jasmines, As the fainting bee, Reaching late his flower, Round her chamber hums, Counts his nectars - enters, And is lost in balms! ~ Emily Dickinson

God, you mean I lost my virginity to the apocalypse?"
Morgan sighed again. "The whole thing was really embarrassing; my parents sent me to Brooklyn when they found out." She shrugged. "I thought I'd be safe in a gay bar, okay? What were you doing in there anyway?"
Lace looked at me sidelong. "You were where?"
I took a sip of beer, swallowed it. "I, uh, hadn't been in the city ... very long. I didn't know. ~ Scott Westerfeld

So you weren't in college."
"I wasn't, no." She takes another sip. "Your father was though. He was visiting for spring break. I mugged him."
"You what?"
"You have to understand I didn't make very much money, even with two jobs. It hardly even paid for my food. I couldn't fish, because-"
"You didn't want anyone to sense you in the water." Otherwise, she could have been pretty self-sufficient.
She nods. "So one day I see this group of cocky college students, spending money left and right. Pulling wads of cash out of their pockets to pay for small purchases, like ice cream." She rolls her eyes. "They were flashing it. They wanted people to know they were rich."
"Doesn't mean they wanted people to mug them," I mutter. ~ Anna Banks

I take a sip of my beer, and it's - I mean, it's just astonishingly disgusting. I don't think I was expecting it to taste like ice cream, but holy fucking hell. People lie and get fake IDs and sneak into bars, and for this? I honestly think I'd rather make out with Bieber. The dog. Or Justin. ~ Becky Albertalli

Welcome, welcome to Caraval! The grandest show on land or by sea. Inside you'll experience more wonders than most people see in a lifetime. You can sip magic from a cup and buy dreams in a bottle. But before you fully enter into our world, you must remember it's all a game. ~ Stephanie Garber

The stupid vamp just asked me to marry him. Here, now? As if looking like I just died is how I wanted to be proposed to."
Joy did a lap around Kylie's heart. "And you said?"
Holiday took a sip of water. "I asked him if we couldn't just live together in sin."
"And?"
"He told me it wouldn't be a good example to our students. So ... I agreed to marry him." She pushed a hand against her forehead. "Dear God, what am I getting myself into? ~ C.C. Hunter

Sixty slutz all of them dying from asphyxia/after they sip piss through a Christopher Reeves sippie cup ~ Eminem

Are You Ready for New Urban Fragrances?

Yeah, I guess I'm ready, but listen:

Perfume is a disguise. Since the middle ages, we have worn masks of fruit and flowers in order to conceal from ourselves the meaty essence of our humanity. We appreciate the sexual attractant of the rose, the ripeness of the orange, more than we honor our own ripe carnality.

Now today we want to perfume our cities, as well; to replace their stinging fumes of disturbed fossils' sleep with the scent of gardens and orchards. Yet, humans are not bees any more than they are blossoms. If we must pull an olfactory hood over our urban environment, let it be of a different nature.

I want to travel on a train that smells like snowflakes.

I want to sip in cafes that smell like comets.

Under the pressure of my step, I want the streets to emit the precise odor of a diamond necklace.

I want the newspapers I read to smell like the violins left in pawnshops by weeping hobos on Christmas Eve.

I want to carry luggage that reeks of the neurons in Einstein's brain.

I want a city's gases to smell like the golden belly hairs of the gods.

And when I gaze at a televised picture of the moon, I want to detect, from a distance of 239,000 miles, the aroma of fresh mozzarella. ~ Tom Robbins

I am so glad Todd and I eloped," she said sincerely. "There was no way to salvage the wreckage. But I think that you deserved this, and I'm very happy for you." She leaned forward and kissed my cheek. Then she whispered, "He is really, really a hottie. How did you mange that?"
"Brat," I told her, and gave her a hug. "Todd's not exactly chopped liver."
She smiled smugly and took another sip. "No he's not."
"He could be," said Ben from behind me, his British accent giving him a civilized air that he didn't deserve. "Do you want him to be chopped liver, darling?"
I turned, making sure I was between Ben and Nan, "My sisters are off-limits," I reminded him.
A flash of hurt came and went on his face. With Ben, it was even odds whether the emotion was genuine or not -but my instincts told me they had been. So I continued in a mock-chiding tone, "Ruthie is too young for you, and Nan is married to a very nice man. So be good."
Nan had caught the flash of hurt, too, I thought. She was softer than our mother, more like her father in temperament as well as looks. She couldn't stand to have anyone hurting and not do anything about it.
She sighed dramatically. "All the pretty men, and I'm tied to just one."
Ben smiled at her. "Anytime you want to change that…"
I poked him in the side-he could have slipped out of the way, but he didn't bother.
"Okay," he said, backing away with exaggerated fear. "Ill be good, I promise. Just don't hurt me ~ Patricia Briggs

I give my blessing to a marriage between you and my daughter. Now, you will undoubtedly point out that you haven't asked for it, which will prompt me to ask why. Then you'll relate a few stories from your unsavory past and go through some tedious self-flagellation to make me aware of your unworthiness as a potential husband and father." The duke took a sip of coffee before adding, "I will not be impressed. ~ Lisa Kleypas

Some days I'm to sip you. Some days I'm to be drowned. ~ Erica Alex

At Kayenta we were told that the entire Navajo Indian reservation was dry; you couldn't get a drop of alcohol anywhere. Not with dinner,but also not at the supermarket. "It's like Iran," Caroline said, taking a sip of her Coke. "But right in the middle of America. ~ Herman Koch

But first, he thinks, he should get a mulled cider. It does not take him long to find the proper vendor in the courtyard. He pays for his cup, the steaming concoction contained in black-and-white marbled swirls, and wonders for a moment before his first sip if it won't taste as good as he remembers. He has recalled that taste countless times in his head, and despite the wealth of apples in the area, no cider with or without spices has ever tasted as good. He hesitates before taking the tiniest of sips. It tastes even better than he remembers. He ~ Erin Morgenstern

Sip tea and coffee with those who say you can,
politely stuff with cookies any who say you cannot.
Because the stuff they are feeding you, be it the latter,
looks strangely a bit like the little chocolate chips. ~ Tom Althouse

What if they still think I'm the price or whatever?"
Daniel gave her a soft, unexpected smile. "I'm certain they still think that. Many do. But only you get to decide how you will fulfill your role in this old story. What we started when we first kissed at Sword & Cross? That awakening in you was only the first step. All those lessons you learned during your time in the Announcers have armed you. The Outcasts can't take that away from you. No one can. And besides"-he grinned-"no one can touch you when I am at your side."
"Daniel?" She took a sip of the grapefruit soda, felt it fizz down her throat. "How will I fulfill my role in this old story?"
"I have no idea," he said, "but I can't wait to find out."
"Neither can I. ~ Lauren Kate

But I'm gay and in a relationship with a hot Viking king and we have a bible thumper ... thumping his bible against our bedroom wall ... so what if we got carried away? It's a vacation for us." Levi took a long sip from his mug before turning his trademark smirk up a few megawatts. "What's your excuse? ~ Mercy Celeste

Sip the shame so you won't have to guzzle the regret. ~ Lysa TerKeurst

The Reformation was a time when men went blind, staggering drunk because they had discovered, in the dusty basement of late medievalism, a whole cellar full of fifteen-hundred-year-old, two-hundred proof Grace–bottle after bottle of pure distilate of Scripture, one sip of which would convince anyone that God saves us single-handedly. The word of the Gospel–after all those centuries of trying to lift yourself into heaven by worrying about the perfection of your bootstraps–suddenly turned out to be a flat announcement that the saved were home before they started…Grace has to be drunk straight: no water, no ice, and certainly no ginger ale; neither goodness, nor badness, not the flowers that bloom in the spring of super spirituality could be allowed to enter into the case. ~ Robert Farrar Capon

Bainbridge Island could never hide its glory, even under the cover of darkness. I watched from the window as the ferry loomed into Eagle Harbor, passing the island's pebble-covered shores and shake-shingled homes that clung courageously to the hillside. Glowing orange interiors beckoned, as if the people inside were making one extra place as they gathered around fireplaces to sip wine or hot cocoa. ~ Sarah Jio

Within the blink of an eye, another waitress - this one giving her no more than a small smile and a "Here you are, shug" - has slipped her a ponderous mug of steaming coffee, along with some cream and sugar. Mona takes a sip, and she can immediately understand why it's talked about: it is rich and strong and faintly chocolatey, so good it induces a sigh of satisfaction. ~ Robert Jackson Bennett

Would she really abandon me, her own dear brother? Leave me to a fate worse than death, although certainly including it? I didn't think she would, not willingly. I took a sip of water and tried to think it through. She ~ Jeff Lindsay

Tick's eyes twinkled, and he drew a long sip of coffee. Poor Kate ... wanting to run the world and yet no one will let her. ~ Elizabeth Camden

Good morning, Mike," I mumbled, making a beeline for the coffeepot.
"Oooooh!" he teased again. "Someone is getting married tonight! Woooooooo…"
"Yep," I said, taking that first glorious sip of java. "Hard to believe, isn't it?"
Mike put his hand over his mouth and snickered. Then he asked, "So…are you guys gonna do some…some kissin'?"
"I certainly hope so," I said. This only served to make Mike laugh harder.
"Ooooooh!" he squealed. "Are you gonna have a baby?"
Oh, Lord.
I took another hit of Gevalia and answered, "Not today." Mike cracked up again. He was clearly on a roll.
"What's so funny this morning, Mike?" I asked.
"Your s-s-s-stomach is gonna get so fat," he answered. Mike was quickly approaching manic stage--the result of a large, busy weekend and his routine being disrupted. Soon the inevitable crash would come. I just hoped I was on the plane to Australia when it happened. It wasn't going to be pretty.
"Oh, whatever, Mike," I answered, feigning indignation. ~ Ree Drummond

Children are touched by heaven - their every breath, every laugh, every touch a sip of water to the desert wanderer. I could not have known this as a child, but I know it as a mother, a truth I learned as my own heart grew, bent, danced, and broke for each of my children ~ Nadia Hashimi

The whole purpose of choosing to invest as a career is to let the management be constantly worried about his company and let yourself sip your wine; But the opposite happens. ~ Vijay Kedia

Taking a sip of the hot chocolate he'd made her, she met his gaze, those eerie eyes of endless black impenetrable, unreadable.
"Max?"
"Yes?"
"Will you remember me?"
His heart broke into a thousand pieces. "Always. ~ Nalini Singh

He supposed that even in Hell, people got an occasional sip of water, if only so they could appreciate the full horror of unrequited thirst when it set in again. ~ Stephen King

Another?" she asked, picking up the water to take another sip, this one to soothe the sting in her chest. "You said one drink." A sly smile curved his lips. "I like to keep them coming." "Is that right?" "Absolutely." He stood, leaning across the table, his lips near her ear. "Maybe you'll let me show you later." She ~ J.M. Darhower

If you ever try that again," I say, taking a sip of chocolate to wet my suddenly parched throat, "I will beat you silly with your own cane. ~ Kiersten White

Wait," Hawke said, before taking a sip. "Which redhead are we saluting? My redhead, Mercy, Faith, or your future spawn?"
"All of them." Riley spread his arms expansively. "And I'll thank you to call my spawn pups or cubs, or pupcubs."
"Pupcubs." Hawke mused. "I like it."
From her chair on the porch, Mercy shook her head at Sienna. "The boys are drunk. ~ Nalini Singh

I may be drunk by morning but that will not do any good. I shall take the train to Paris anyway. The train will be the same, the people, struggling for comfort and, even, dignity on the straight-backed, wooden, third-class seats will be the same, and I will be the same. We will ride through the same changing countryside northward, leaving behind the olive trees and the sea and all of the glory of the stormy southern sky, into the mist and rain of Paris. Someone will offer to share a sandwich with me, someone will offer me a sip of wine, someone will ask me for a match. People will be roaming the corridors outside, looking out of windows, looking in at us. At each stop, recruits in their baggy brown uniforms and colored hats will open the compartment door to ask Complet? We will all nod Yes, like conspirators, smiling faintly at each other as they continue through the train. Two or three of them will end up before our compartment door, shouting at each other in their heavy, ribald voices, smoking their dreadful army cigarettes. There will be a girl sitting opposite me who will wonder why I have not been flirting with her, who will be set on edge by the presence of the recruits. It will all be the same, only I will be stiller. ~ James Baldwin

Chocolate makes everything better, in the end," he announced, and Thayer fully agreed.
Thayer gave him a smile of gratitude and watched Castel lift his spoon from the saucer. He dipped it, gracefully, into his coffee and gave it a light stir.
"Too many people rush to stir such delicate flavours. Take too long and they will clog together to become a lump of bitterness in your coffee. But take your time and be gentle with them," Castel explained, quietly, "and they will create a symphony of flavours, to melt in your mouth," he said, leaning down, just until his nose was over his cup, to take a long inhale. He smiled and straightened, extracting the spoon to place it back on his saucer. "Now try it."
Thayer took a sip and almost felt his toes curl at the luxurious taste.

~ Cinnamon Kiss ~ Elaine White

I plucked the cherry off the stem with my teeth, looked anywhere but at Joe as I chewed and swallowed, took a sip of my vodka and cranberry juice to clear my mouth in preparation for my endeavor then popped the stem in. Within seconds, I'd done it. It wasn't hard at all. I guessed it was like riding a bike. I slid the stem from between my lips, showed him the result and set it on my cocktail napkin. His clear blue eyes were on the stem when I asked, "You impressed?" His head tipped to my glass. "That your last? ~ Kristen Ashley

I hand her the coffee. She gives it a sip, then nods in approval. I do a little fist pump, officially becoming a less odious human being than the man who wants to build a wall between Mexico and the US. ~ Beth O'Leary

Whichever wine was within, it was decidedly not identical to its neighbors. On the contrary, the contents of the bottle in his hand was the product of a history as unique and complex as that of a nation, or a man. In its color, aroma, and taste, it would certainly express the idiosyncratic geology and prevailing climate of its home terrain. But in addition, it would express all the natural phenomena of its vintage. In a sip, it would evoke the timing of that winter's thaw, the extent of that summer's rain, the prevailing winds, and the frequency of clouds. Yes, a bottle of wine was the ultimate distillation of time and place; a poetic expression of individuality itself. ~ Amor Towles

And so I do. I have inter course, right there in the Hotel van Walsum dining room. I enjoy it very much, this unhurried dining experience. I sip my beer, stare into space, and, in general, do nothing--until the waiter brings the grilled salmon, indicating that, for now, my inter course is over. ~ Eric Weiner