Smooth Talkers Quotes

But men are bound to say
Some things that, though untrue,
Will get you down the aisle
Until you say "I do. ~ Joyce Rachelle

Be wary of smooth talkers. Words are rarely at your disposal if something is wholly, truly, completely true. ~ Joyce Rachelle

What's important is that you stay true to yourself. Because when you enter the real world, the most valuable thing you can bring is all your you-ness. The world doesn't need any more hot chicks or tough guys or smooth talkers - the world needs more you. And don't let anyone tell you otherwise. ~ Bo Burnham

Don't tell me they didn't have a choice. Now the whole world stands on the brink, staring down into bloody hell, all those liberals and intellectuals and smooth-talkers ... and all of a sudden, nobody can think of anything to say. ~ Alan Moore

For the third time since I began, my walk has been delayed. In the beginning, I had considered these stops on my journey as interruptions
but I'm coming to understand that perhaps these detours are my journey. No matter how much I, or the rest of humanity wishes otherwise, life is not lived in smooth, downhill expressways, but in the obscure, perilous trails and rocky back roads of life where we stumble and feel our way through the fog of the unknown. ~ Richard Paul Evans

With this house. Placing his hand on the cool metal handle on the door of his black Bentley, he barely heard the familiar click as the catch released. And as he climbed into the seat, he was oblivious to the fresh, pungent smell of the smooth leather upholstery. Pulling quickly out of the driveway, Rafe began heading the short distance to the city, where he had a condo a couple of blocks from his office building. Luckily, Sharron had refused to live in San Francisco, causing him to sleep there on the many late nights he'd worked. The apartment was his - his ~ Melody Anne

Well ... " He leans across the basket to place the necklace over my head. It falls in line atop my key. He drags my hair free, smoothing the strands to cover both chains. "I thought this could be symbolic. It's made of the same kind of metal, looks vintage like the key. Together, they prove what I've always known. Even when we used to come here as kids." "And what's that?" I watch him, intrigued by how the tunnel's opening tints one side of his smooth complexion with bluish light. "That only you have the key to open my heart. ~ A.G. Howard

Ingredients: 6 bananas If desired, spice it up with cinnamon, allspice, nutmeg, or even other fruits! Directions: Peel your bananas Add spices if desired Put bananas in a food processor and process until they attain a smooth, velvety texture. Place in freezer for 2 hours, until firmly frozen. That's it! How's that for easy? If you wanted to go one step further, you could also try grilling the bananas before you process them. The easiest way to do this is to slice them in half long ways, leaving the skin on. Grill them for about 2-3 minutes and then begin step one. Serves ~ Ivy Martin

I should not like to preach to a congregation who all believed as I believe. I would as lief preach to a basket of eggs in their smooth compactness and oval formality. ~ Edwin Hubbel Chapin

The alien was an ugly sight, all angles and corners. Like a pentagram might look if it fell into a mathematical blender. No ports, seam lines or anything. Smooth yellow hull. No markings. And it was too close! ~ Christina Engela

Time has stopped; time is racing. Lochie's lips are rough yet smooth, hard yet gentle. His fingers are strong: I feel them in my hair and on my neck and down my arms and against my back. And I never want him to let me go. ~ Tabitha Suzuma

Let's not talk," she said again, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him.
His lips collided with hers; his mouth opened into hers. He pushed her down upon the sofa and began unbuttoning her blouse; she opened the buttons of his shirt and felt her lips press against the smooth expanses of his chest.
They did not stop; they could not stop. Their bodies were tangled into each other – their limbs at angles across the surface of the couch. They had both by now stripped to their underwear, and Stuart's arms were tight upon her back.
"We have to stop," he whispered, and she gave a little moan in reply. ~ Kailin Gow

I try to catch my breath and calm myself down, but it isn't easy. I was dead. I was dead, and then i wasn't, and why? Because of Peter? Peter? I stare at him. He still looks so innocent, despite all that he has done to prove that he is not. His hair lies smooth against his head, shiny and dark, like we didn't just run for a mile at full speed. His round eyes scan the stairwell and then rest on my face. "What?" he says. "Why are you looking at me like that?" " How did you do it?" I say. ~ Veronica Roth

I don't mind ironing at all. There's a special satisfaction in making wrinkled things smooth. ~ Haruki Murakami

You're here," he says, and his voice is like sunshine, like honey, it's warm and rich and moreish. "I'm so very glad." Where Silas's voice is spikes and edges, every word a warning, this man's voice is smooth, velvety and beckoning. ~ Melinda Salisbury

So each man, like each plant, has his parasites. A strong, astringent, bilious nature has more truculent enemies than the slugs and moths that fret my leaves. Such a one has curculios, borers, knife-worms; a swindler ate him first, then a client, then a quack, then smooth, plausible gentlemen, bitter and selfish as Moloch. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

For a long time we just held each other, our hearts beating hard. My eyes were closed, my face pressed against the warm dip between his shoulder and neck. Alex. I felt a happiness so great that it was like a deep stillness within me, as if something I'd been looking for my entire life had just slotted into place, making me whole.

Finally Alex drew back. Stroking my hair from my face, he kissed me slowly, and I wanted to melt. "I can't believe that I can just do that whenver I want to now," he whispered. "You may not be getting much done for the next few weeks. Or months, or years."

Years. My heart skipped, hoping that was true. "I think I can live with that," I said. Hardly able to believe that I could touch him whenever I wanted to, either, I slid my hand down his arm, feeling the different textures of him: hard muscle, smooth skin. "Do you want to go to bed?" I asked softly. Then, for the second time that night, I felt my face flame at the question.

Alex smiled and touched my cheek. "You still mean sleep, right?"

"Still sleep." My skin was on fire.

"Just making sure. Yeah, sleep sounds good. I'm sure I'll manage to drop off. Eventually." His smile turned teasing. "Do I have to put my shirt on?"

I couldn't help smiling, too, though embarrassment was still singeing through me. "No, I'd rather you didn't," I admitted. ~ L.A. Weatherly

Maddy shook her head, as if the movement could somehow shake the reality away. She simply couldn't believe it. That by saving her he had
actually, knowingly put himself in line for a consequence this severe. So much was kept hidden about the Angels, about how they handled their
internal affairs - brutally, it turned out. All the while they put on a smooth, clean exterior for the public and the media.
"What can I do?" she said finally.
Jacks looked at her through the deluge.
"Come with me."
There he stood in the pouring rain, the image of shirtless soaked perfection. He stood before her offering her a choice just like he had the
night they went flying. She was at another crossroads. She knew she could just leave. Knew she probably should. But they were going to take his
wings, and it was all her fault. Her fault for going to the party, her fault for trying to follow through with her plan, her fault for leaving and insisting on
walking home. Could she really leave him now? Before she had even decided, her mouth opened.
"Yes," she said. Just like when he had invited her to the party. It simply came out, as though her true desires could no longer be repressed.
Jacks smiled a dripping, radiant smile. A flash of lightning lit the roof, followed closely by a bark of thunder. ~ Scott Speer

Deadwood lies at the northern tip of the Black Hills, where the land is ancient and rubbed smooth by time. The Black Hills are more rugged at their southern extremity, where bare granite forms pinnacles and spires. ~ Clive Sinclair

Tancredi and Angelica were passing in front of them at that moment, his gloved right hand on her waist, their outspread arms interlaced, their eyes gazing into each other's. The black of his tail coat, the pink of her dress, combining formed a kind of strange jewel. They were the most moving sight there, two young people in love dancing together, blind to each other's defects, deaf to the warnings of fate, deluding themselves that the whole course of their lives would be as smooth as the ballroom floor, unknowning actors made to play the parts of Juliet and Romeo by a director who had concealed the fact that tomb and poison were already in the script. Neither of them was good, each full of self-interest, swollen with secret aims; yet there was something sweet and touching about them both; those murky but ingenuous ambitions of theirs were obliterated by the words of jesting tenderness he was murmuring in her ear, by the scent of her hair, by the mutual clasp of those bodies of theirs destined to die. . .

For them death was purely an intellectual concept, a fact of knowledge as it were and no more, not an experience which pierced the marrow of their bones. Death, oh yes, it existed of course, but it was something that happened to others. The thought occurred to Don Fabrizio that it was ignorance of this supreme consolation that made the young feel sorrows much more sharply than the old; the latter are nearer the safety exit. ~ Giuseppe Tomasi Di Lampedusa

Of the colors, blue and green have the greatest emotional range. Sad reds and melancholy yellows are difficult to turn up. Among the ancient elements, blue occurs everywhere: in ice and water, in the flame as purely as in the flower, overhead and inside caves, covering fruit and oozing out of clay. Although green enlivens the earth and mixes in the ocean, and we find it, copperish, in fire; green air, green skies, are rare. Gray and brown are widely distributed, but there are no joyful swatches of either, or any of exuberant black, sullen pink, or acquiescent orange. Blue is therefore most suitable as the color of interior life. Whether slick light sharp high bright thin quick sour new and cool or low deep sweet dark soft slow smooth heavy old and warm: blue moves easily among them all, and all profoundly qualify our states of feeling. ~ William H Gass

Beautiful day out there," I said, perching on the stool and crossing my legs. "It's autumn, Sunday, great weather, and crowded everywhere you go. Relaxing indoors like this is the best thing you can do on such a nice day. It's exhausting to get into those crowds. And the air is bad. I mostly do laundry on Sundays - wash the stuff in the morning, hang it out on the roof of my dorm, take it in before the sun goes down, do a good job of ironing it. I don't mind ironing at all. There's a special satisfaction in making wrinkled things smooth. And I'm pretty good at it, too. Of course, I was lousy at it at first. I put creases in everything. After a month of practice, though, I knew what I was doing. So Sunday is my day for laundry and ironing. I couldn't do it today, of course. Too bad: wasted a perfect laundry day. ~ Haruki Murakami

Warner's head is on my lap. His face is smooth and calm and peaceful in a way I've never seen it and I almost reach out to stroke his hair before I remember exactly how awkward this actually is. ~ Tahereh Mafi

There is a time sometime, and a place where in the perfect stillness of the evening within the sunset serenity we unite in the glow... Blissful paradise divinity, brilliancy glassy deepness, shallowness slow and smooth... We forever are eternal wholeness only intimacy between us... Thorough adoration pleasure deep in souls with melodies slowness as we breathe...skin on skin with tenderness emotions... There is a time sometime, when I dream of you, feel caressing kissing across my eyes and hands...and a place where old memories fade away and I'm with you again locked tight in your embrace, hearing your laughter and seeing jolly smiles upon your face... Music of the reverberating mind waves crashes on the shore of my aching heart... There is a place I'm in a different time sometime...with you in the perfect stillness... ~ Oksana Rus

Time. It rubs the rough edges that hurt us smooth. ~ Nina George

She didn't say she loved him then. She said it later that night, when he was breathing deeply beside her, the sleep of peace and satiety, as he always did when they'd released each other from passion by indulging it without limit. He slept heavily, so she could smooth his hair, kiss him without his knowing, and whisper the words she didn't know how to say when he heard her. "Tuscan Tycoon's Wife ~ Lucy Gordon

I've always loved books. I'm passionate about them. I think books are sexy. They are smooth and solid and contain delightful surprises. They smell good. They fit into a handbag and can be carried around and opened at will. They don't change. They are what they are and nothing else. One day I want to own a lot of books and have them nbear to me in my house, so that I can stroll to my bookshelves and choose what I fancy. I want a harem. I shall keep my favourites by my bed. ~ Sue Townsend

Thomas was like a drug, so smooth and overwhelming that he took one up a level in their emotions just by watching him and listening to him. He was a natural entertainer, filled with talent and knowledge on many subjects and a keen sense of the arts and music. I admired him as he performed for us, and I forgot the ugliness again ~ Sara Niles

The blue sky adds Dont call me eternity, call me God if you like, sll of you talkers are in paradise: the leaf is paradise, the tree stump is paradise, the paper bag is paradise, the man is paradise, the sand is paradise, the sea is paradise, the man is paradise, the fog is paradise ~ Jack Kerouac

With my scrip on my back, and my staff in my hand,I'll march on in haste thro' an enemy's land.Though the way may be rough it cannot be long;So I'll smooth it with hope, and I'll cheer it with song. ~ Anonymous

The world is full of talkers, but it is rare to find anyone who listens. And I assure you that you can pick up more information when you are listening than when you are talking. ~ E.B. White

The class of dishonest bees which I have been describing, may be termed the "Jerry Sneaks" of their profession, and after they have followed it for some time, they lose all disposition for honest pursuits, and assume a hang-dog sort of look, which is very peculiar. Constantly employed in creeping into small holes, and daubing themselves with honey, they often lose all the bright feathers and silky plumes which once so beautifully adorned their bodies, and assume a smooth and almost black appearance; just as the hat of the thievish loafer, acquires a "seedy" aspect, and his garments, a shining and threadbare look. ~ L.L. Langstroth

Usually a song being hard to write is a sign that the song isn't good enough. It should be like a good kiss. Effortless and smooth. ~ Oh Land

I like men who have known the best and the worst, whose life has been anything but a smooth trip. Storms have battered them, they have lain, sometimes for months on end, becalmed. There is a residue even if they fail. It has not been all tinkling; there have been grand chords. ~ James Salter

While some guys get too bulky with muscles and others too ropey, Gray is like my own personal Goldilocks story come to life because he is just right, lean yet strong, cut yet smooth. ~ Kristen Callihan

Delay
The warmth
Of the smooth rocks
In the sun

Ripples
On the surface
Of pools in the surf
And on the beach

The rush
Of colour
In every destination
The uninterrupted flight plan

Vanishing acts
Flashbacks and passages
Rare appearances of family
The timeless dance

The swift motion
Of the perfect match
Of leaves against grass
Chameleon-like and provocative

This season is festive
Uncomplicated
Filled with high hopes
A portrait of a family

My demands are small
Summer is when you'll be home
From school
More grown up than before. ~ Abigail George

I lit a Camel, blew smoke through my nose and looked at a piece of black shiny metal on a stand. It showed a full, smooth curve with a shallow fold in it and two protuberances on the curve. I stared at it. Marriott saw me staring at it. "An interesting bit," he said negligently. "I picked it up just the other day. Asta Dial's Spirit of Dawn." "I thought it was Klopstein's Two Warts on a Fanny," I said. Mr. Lindsay Marriott's face looked as if he had swallowed a bee. He smoothed it out with an effort. ~ Raymond Chandler

Swift or smooth, broad as the Hudson or narrow enough to scrape your gunwales, every river is a world of its own, unique in pattern and personality. Each mile on a river will take you further from home than a hundred miles on a road. ~ Bob Marshall

And I would have answered:
The knottier the branch, the more twisted and misshapen, the more bent people called it, the harder it is to find it a place among the smooth planks, the more people agree that it should be thrown on the fire, the more useless it is, the more unsuitable for anything except letting one's imagination run riot, the more I covet it, the more I yearn to weigh it in my hand, the more I long to let my whittling knife be guided by its knots and veins ... Yes, bring that piece to me ... ~ Sjon

His face was shockingly handsome,tan and smooth,except for the two healed scars near his right ear and mouth. ~ Laura Wright

Was it a moment of indecision or was it a moment of redemption. Redemption long overdue and long unacknowledged? They didn't know. He suddenly went at her mouth and she claimed it as if it was never supposed to be elsewhere.
It was stormy. It was fierce. His manhood shafted through his loose night pajamas challenging her even beyond the thickness of her bath robe, which was cast aside in one unsparing sweep of his hand, revealing the quavering ripeness of her fulsome breasts. After a moment of awe, he went at them with unquenched ferocity.
First he devoured her there itself, against the wall, on the carpet. Within moments their frenzied hands tore away each other's underpants with unapologetic fury and then in one smooth motion of a dancer's lucidity, he lifted her and like a great performer of an opera, placed her on the bed. The inviting altar of desire and passion and longing. Now as they claimed each other, there was unhurried fluidity in their motion. Tears of pain and love in their eyes. Ecstasy of carnal compatibility in their fusion. Symphony of sensuality in their strokes and when he finally exploded inside her, she had gone aflame with matching uncontrollability.
It was a heavenly union which in one go had robbed them of their beings, their earth, their universe, their past, their present, their future. In one instant, they had undone what was done and had done what was 'not done'. ~ Vinod Pande

Blessed are the happiness-makers! Blessed are they that take away attritions, that remove friction, that make the courses of life smooth, and the intercourse of men gentle! ~ Henry Ward Beecher

But misfortunes do not last forever (this they have in common with joys) but pass away or are at least diminished and become lost in oblivion. Life on the kapia always renews itself despite everything and the bridge does not change with the years or with the centuries or with the most painful turns in human affairs. All these pass over it, even as the unquiet waters pass beneath its smooth and perfect arches. ~ Ivo Andric

Silver

The liquid ebony stretches out
and mingles with the midnight sky
where high above,
as on a throne,
is perched that perfect sphere of silver.
She looks upon the lapping waves,
the calm, all serene;
She looks upon the rocky shore,
watching dark nothing
break in two and become
tiny globs of light.
The soft white foam creeps
upon the smooth beige land
to darken it but for a moment,
only to retreat back to its
blackened home
and hide among the vastness.
The silver moon smiles openly,
casting a healthy grin
upon the rippled water below,
sending gifts of silver
to float on seas of woe. ~ Rebecca Harris

My fingers scrabbled at the smooth leather interior of Ryu's BMW as he missed the exit we needed. Causing him to drop a few more F bombs and slam on the breaks. He then opened what I assume was a rift in the space time continuum in order to hurtle his German made steal cage of doom through said continuum. ~ Nicole Peeler

The rest of us, we'd lay down our lives for years, but Blackwell... he'd do that and more. He'd rip the beating heart from his chest. He'd give up his soul if ye'd only-"
"It is making a rather large and fallacious assumption that I have a heart to give... or a soul." Dorian Blackwell's smooth voice didn't echo through the washroom as theirs did. He slithered into their midst with a serpentine stealth, striking before Murdoch's words uncovered any of his secrets.
Gasping, Farah sank deep into the bath, thankful the water was now cloudy with soap, though she did draw her knees under her chin and anchor them with her arms, just in case. "Get out!" she insisted in an unsteady voice. "I'm indecent."
"That makes two of us."
He'd moved closer. So close, in fact, that Farah knew if she looked behind her, she'd find his mismatched eyes staring down at her from her towering height. Perhaps, despite the opaque water, he could see the flesh that quivered just below the surface. The thought sent bolts of heat and mortification through her.
"Leave," Farah ordered, unable to face him for fear she'd lost her nerve.
"Stand up and make me. ~ Kerrigan Byrne