Soldevilla Coat Quotes

The man reached into his coat and pulled out a wallet containing an ID card. "Agent Dwight, FBI. Miss Baker, I need you to come with me. You're in danger here."
"In danger?" Robin said. "In danger from what?"
"Not from what. From who," Agent Dwight said, and glanced over at Creek. "You're in danger from him. He's going to kill you, Miss Baker. At least he is going to try."
Robin turned to Creek. "You bastard," she said. "You never said anything about killing me when we made the date."
~ John Scalzi

The supreme torture was to come. He discovered that it required the united energies of the three men to coax him into his coat. When at last it was on he assured them it would split across the shoulders if her so much as moved a finger.
"Forget it, little fool!"
"Forget it?" cried Philip." How can I forget it when it prevents my moving? ~ Georgette Heyer

It was a relief to see his father, who'd always been an unfailing source of reassurance and comfort. They clasped hands in a firm shake, and used their free arms to pull close for a moment. Such demonstrations of affection weren't common among fathers and sons of their rank, but then, they'd never been a conventional family.
After a few hearty thumps on the back, Sebastian drew back and glanced over him with the attentive concern that hearkened to Gabriel's earliest memories. Not missing the traces of weariness on his face, his father lightly tousled his hair the way he had when he was a boy. "You haven't been sleeping."
"I went carousing with friends for most of last night," Gabriel admitted. "It ended when we were all too drunk to see a hole through a ladder."
Sebastian grinned and removed his coat, tossing the exquisitely tailored garment to a nearby chair. "Reveling in the waning days of bachelorhood, are we?"
"It would be more accurate to say I'm thrashing like a drowning rat."
"Same thing." Sebastian unfastened his cuffs and began to roll up his shirtsleeves. An active life at Heron's Point, the family estate in Sussex, had kept him as fit and limber as a man half his age. Frequent exposure to the sunlight had gilded his hair and darkened his complexion, making his pale blue eyes startling in their brightness.
While other men of his generation had become staid and settled, the duke was more vigorous than ever, in part because his youngest s ~ Lisa Kleypas

Since I am known as a 'rich' person, I feel I have to tip at least $5 each time I check my coat. On top of that, I would have to wear a very expensive coat, and it would have to be insured. Added up, without a topcoat I save over $20,000 a year. ~ Aristotle Onassis

I do hope to travel," he said. "But not alone." She swallowed. "Oh?" Henry pulled something from his coat pocket and unfolded it. "Here is my itinerary." He held the piece of paper toward her. "What do you think of it?" Emma accepted the single sheet and glanced at the list of Italian destinations - cities, churches, ruins, palazzos, and pensiones - preparing to offer some polite comment. Instead she stared. She turned to her aunt's desk, opened her notebook, and compared it to their own Italian itinerary - the one they'd had to discard. Except for the handwriting, the lists were identical. She glanced up at him, lips parted in astonishment. He stepped nearer. "I had hoped to travel with my wife, but she is, as yet, unavailable." Her neck heated. "Oh . . . why?" Henry dipped his chin and raised his brows. "Because she has yet to agree to marry me. ~ Julie Klassen

Hostage? She's holding me hostage. She has my guts in her hands. I don't care about the company, I care about her. She's my life, do you understand? Have you ever loved a woman? Have you ever held her at night so tight because you couldn't sleep thinking something might happen to her? Have you ever built a future around a woman? Ever thought of every tomorrow, every year, every decade with her? Dreamed of your old age holding her hand? I can only function with her in my life. I can only breathe if I know she's there. I gave her my fucking soul and she threw it away. Months ago, maybe years ago. She made a decision to throw me away. She's prepared for this divorce, and I'm swinging in the wind. Raw. With nothing. No defenses. Now what am I supposed to do?" I stood and threw my coat over my shoulders. "This is not about money. It's not about some publishing company. Not for me. If I don't do this, I have no chance of recovery. I'm as good as dead." ~Adam ~ C.D. Reiss

...he pulled on his coat and stepped into the darkness for a walk up to the village shop. He found walking to the shop once or twice a day to buy food as needed a comforting routine. ~ Charlie Lovett

One picture puzzle piece
Lyin' on the sidewalk,
One picture puzzle piece
Soakin' in the rain.
It might be a button of blue
On the coat of the woman
Who lived in a shoe.
It might be a magical bean,
Or a fold in the red
Velvet robe of a queen.
It might be the one little bite
Of the apple her stepmother
Gave to Snow White.
It might be the veil of a bride
Or a bottle with some evil genie inside.
It might be a small tuft of hair
On the big bouncy belly
Of Bobo the Bear.
It might be a bit of the cloak
Of the Witch of the West
As she melted to smoke.
It might be a shadowy trace
Of a tear that runs down an angel's face.
Nothing has more possibilities
Than one old wet picture puzzle piece. ~ Shel Silverstein

SUMMER DEEP"
"Summer deep is in the hills again
His lady is a lioness
Winds of birds blow through the fields again
Invaders from the true worlds
A coat of grapes is on my back again
I ride upon my zebra
Pterodactyl beak hat on my brow
The truth is like a stranger
Be like you could
All my friends say. ~ Marc Bolan

As soon as we arrived home, I told Bliss I was going to take a shower. Sundays were a two-show day, so I certainly needed it. I let her go in first to brush her teeth. I waited for the water to turn on, then leapt into action. I found Hamlet's feathered cat toy (the only reason she would ever willingly get close to Bliss), and hid it underneath the bed. Then I went to the closet and found the suit coat pocket where I'd hidden the ring. I popped open the box to look at it one more time.

It wasn't much. I was only an actor, after all. But Bliss wasn't one to wear much jewelry any way. It was simple and sparkling, and I hoped she would love it as much as I loved her. A popping sensation filled my gut like those silly candy rocks that Bliss loved.

What if I was pushing her too fast?

No. No, I'd thought this out. It was the best way. I opened the top drawer of the nightstand, and slid the ring box toward the back. The water in the bathroom shut off, and I went back to the closet, shucking my shirt. I tossed it in the hamper at the same time Bliss walked in the room.

She came up behind me and placed a hand on my bare back. She pressed a small kiss on my shoulder and asked, "Get Hamlet for me before you shower?"

I smiled, and nodded.

Bliss was so determined to make Hamlet like her that she played with the cat for at least half an hour before bed every night. Hamlet would stick around for as long as Bliss waved t ~ Cora Carmack

Life is every bit as devious as Death. It too can wear a hooded coat. It too can slip into town, lurk in an alley, or wait in the back of a tavern. ~ Amor Towles

Niggas out here buyin' hoes bags n' shoes,
But couldn't buy their kid a new coat for school?
Damn. ~ Troy Ave

At that bureau a lovesick woman in a crinoline, her hair parted in the middle, may have written a passionate letter to her faithless lover, or a peppery old gentleman in a green frock coat and a stock indited an angry epistle to his extravagant son. ~ W. Somerset Maugham

His coat smelled like Irish Spring and a little bit like potpourri. ~ Rainbow Rowell

Idolatry isn't just one of many sins; rather it's the one great sin that all others come from. So if you start scratching at whatever struggle you're dealing with, eventually you'll find that underneath it is a false god. Until that god is dethroned, and the Lord God takes his rightful place, you will not have victory. Idolatry isn't an issue; it is the issue. All roads lead to the dusty, overlooked concept of false gods. Deal with life on the glossy outer layers, and you might never see it; scratch a little beneath the surface, and you begin to see that it's always there, under some other coat of paint. There are a hundred million different symptoms, but the issue is always idolatry. ~ Kyle Idleman

Almost every collection I do has 200 different references. I don't have two of the same coat, two of the same dress. I have it in one color, in one fabric. I've tried to adapt the culture of couture, and the know-how and the heritage, but I try to update it. ~ Alber Elbaz

A billion stars above us coat the sky white. It would have been beautiful back home, but not here. Here it is the ever present reminder that we are all alone and insignificant. ~ Jennifer Arnett

Kaz reached into his coat pocket. "Here," he said and handed Jesper a slender book with an elaborate cover.
"Are we going to read to each other?"
"Just flip it open to the back."
Jesper opened the book and peered at the last page, puzzled. "So?"
"Hold it up so we don't have to look at your ugly face."
"My face has character. Besides - oh!"
"An excellent read, isn't it?"
"Who knew I had a taste for literature? ~ Leigh Bardugo

He stood up, rushed to the fanned-out glossy company brochures. His finger landed on one in the center. Three stylized gold crowns. Corona Labs - BRINGING THE FUTURE TODAY.
"This," he said, finger tapping. Each time he touched the paper it seemed to get warmer.
This turned out to be the brochure for a new company.
Catherine picked it up, showed it to her husband. "I thought I knew more or less all the research labs in the country, but this is a new one." Mac turned the glossy paper over in his big hands. There was a videolette loop embedded in the paper, all the rage nowadays. Some smiling woman in a lab coat endlessly raising a test tube in triumph, putting it down, raising it . . .
Nick was shaking with tension. The logo, the name Corona Laboratories meant nothing to him, but still they shone in his mind. ~ Lisa Marie Rice

These books you're reading . . . I question your taste, Miss Twill."

She straightened the collar of his maroon coat. "I'll read what I please, Mr. Thane."

"I have a suggestion," he said with a wry smile, stepping away and glancing back at the sunset, which had already grown ruddier. "I have a dissertation on eighteenth-century Folding basics on interlibrary loan. It's wonderfully dry and has all its nouns capitalized. I think you'll enjoy it."

Ceony frowned. "You want me to study primitive Folding techniques?"

"Only subprimitive," he said, a smirk playing on his lips. "It never hurts to go back to basics, even if you think you know them."

"I do know them."

"Are you sure?"

Ceony paused. "Is this a hint for my test? ~ Charlie N. Holmberg

He gave a final shake of his coat. I go to the hunt! ~ Robin Hobb

Because what my gradmother did with her fine coat (the loveliest thing she would ever own) is what all women of that generation (and before) did for their families and their husbands and their children. They cut up the finest and proudest parts of themselves and gave it all away. They repatterned what was theirs and shaped it for others. They went without. They were the last ones to eat at supper, and they were the first ones to get up every morning, warming the cold kitchen for another day spent caring for everyone else. This was the only thing they knew how to do. This was their guiding verb and their defining principle of life: They gave. ~ Elizabeth Gilbert

I'm designing what I want. If it's a man's coat with a pair of skinny-leg jeans, I'll do that. It's whatever my mood is. But it's about style, and it's about an understated taste that's cool. ~ Ralph Lauren

O bluebird, welcome back again, Thy azure coat and ruddy vest, Are hues that April loveth best ... ~ John Burroughs

A legion of horribles, hundreds in number, half naked or clad in costumes attic or biblical or wardrobed out of a fevered dream with the skins of animals and silk finery and pieces of uniform still tracked with the blood of prior owners, coats of slain dragoons, frogged and braided cavalry jackets, one in a stovepipe hat and one with an umbrella and one in white stockings and a bloodstained wedding veil and some in headgear or cranefeathers or rawhide helmets that bore the horns of bull or buffalo and one in a pigeontailed coat worn backwards and otherwise naked and one in the armor of a Spanish conquistador, the breastplate and pauldrons deeply dented with old blows of mace or sabre done in another country by men whose very bones were dust and many with their braids spliced up with the hair of other beasts until they trailed upon the ground and their horses' ears and tails worked with bits of brightly colored cloth and one whose horse's whole head was painted crimson red and all the horsemen's faces gaudy and grotesque with daubings like a company of mounted clowns, death hilarious, all howling in a barbarous tongue and riding down upon them like a horde from a hell more horrible yet than the brimstone land of Christian reckoning, screeching and yammering and clothed in smoke like those vaporous beings in regions beyond right knowing where the eye wanders and the lip jerks and drools. ~ Cormac McCarthy

I remember in The Conversation, they brought all these coats to me, and they said: Do you want him to look like a detective, Humphrey Bogart? Do you want him to look like a blah blah blah. I didn't know, and said the theme is 'privacy' and chose the plastic coat you could see through. So knowing the theme helps you make a decision when you're not sure which way to go. ~ Francis Ford Coppola

A man does not buy his wife a fur coat to keep her warm, but to keep her pleasant. ~ Seymour Hicks

Who is he, the ill-disposed gentleman in pink?" inquire the Comte, when they were out of earshot.
"A creature of no importance," shrugged Philip.
"So I see. Yet he contrives to arouse your anger.?"
"Yes," admitted Philip. "I do not like the color of his coat. ~ Georgette Heyer

Confession is good for the soul only in the sense that a tweed coat is good for dandruff - it is a palliative rather than a remedy. ~ Peter De Vries

You're sad because you're sad. It's psychic. It's the age. It's chemical. Go see a shrink or take a pill, or hug your sadness like an eyeless doll you need to sleep. Well, all children are sad but some get over it. Count your blessings. Better than that, buy a hat. Buy a coat or a pet. Take up dancing to forget. ~ Margaret Atwood

Most people have a regulator between their mind and mouth that modulates their brutish sentiments and spikiest impulses. Not Jobs. He made a point of being brutally honest. My job is to say when something sucks rather than sugar coat it, : he said. This made him charismatic and inspiring, yet also,, to use the technical term, an asshole at times. ~ Walter Isaacson

I used to think of George Michael as being mechanical, like a scientist in a white coat, working in a laboratory, creating perfect harmonies, and all the while I was secretly admiring him. ~ Boy George

At some point, Alice slipped one arm and then the other into the coat's sleeves, she buttoned its buttons, starting at the top. Silas had followed her, still not seeing what an emblem of defeat, shame, loss, hopelessness, the coat was. With such gaps in his understanding, he saw very clearly how the boy he'd been had grown up to be the man he was. ~ Tom Franklin

Listen, I'm going to go lock myself in the coat closet, okay? Don't disturb me if you can help it?"

She frowned at me.

"Telepathy stuff," I said. "It may not work, but I've got to try. ~ Alex Hughes

Twenty thousand days and nights in one place, each layered and trapped and folded on top of the last, the creases in her hands, the aches between her vertebrae. Embryo, seed coat, endosperm: What is a seed if not the purest kind of memory, a link to every generation that has gone before it? ~ Anthony Doerr

1. Replace upstairs hall bathroom lightbulb.
2. Get online and research Ferragamo shoes, then email someone named Kell to see if he could convert Ferragamos into weapons.
3. Order a replacement coat for the one that was torn. (see closet for coat) Make sure it matches exactly.
4. Wash Cars.
5. Take out trash for Rosa
6. Most important, don't bitch. ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

So many things are lost in the dark. A slight misstep and we lose our footing. A quick hand in a pocket and we lose our money. A coat hanger in a womb and we lose a fetus. A swift puncture and we lose a life. ~ Pat Henshaw

Leo stood behind him, his suit coat and tie off, rolling up his sleeves.
"Oh, crap," I said, my voice full of gravel and bigger rocks, grinding over one another. I cleared my throat and tried again. "I'm too old for a spanking and not quite up to defending myself from a butt whupping. Can we do this another time? ~ Faith Hunter

Science only deals with half the evidence provided by human experience. It divides the seamless coat - or, to change the metaphor into a happier form, it examines the coat, which is superficial, and neglects the body which is fundamental. ~ Alfred North Whitehead

A young woman across the dock pulled her winter coat tightly around herself and ducked her chin down as the crowd of sailors passed. Her shoulders might have shaken, just a little, but she kept to her path without letting the men's boisterous laughter keep her from her course. In her I saw myself, a fellow lost girl, headstrong and headed anywhere but home. ~ William Ritter

My intentions toward you are definitely ... dirty." "How dirty?" she whispered. Fiery need jolted straight to his groin. He leaned closer to speak right into her ear. "Very. I want to strip you naked and lick you all over. I want to taste you ... everywhere. I want to feed you my cock and feel your teeth on me, and then I want to fuck you blind." Her eyelids drooped, her mouth went soft, and more heat built between them as they stared at each other. His other hand found her knee and slipped over silky skin to the inside of her thigh beneath her coat. "That's pretty dirty," she agreed breathlessly. ~ Kelly Jamieson

Ink was black, in inkwells and bottles, in the past. It would get all over your fingers because it would run and flow relentlessly. This inevitable messiness was the flip side of writing. I always felt caught between two kinds of black: that of the dirty and dirtying substance and that of the signs that miraculously emerged from it through the magic of wayward fountain pens, which, when dipped too deep in the inkwell, had a strong tendency to cover the paper with what used to be called "inkblots." Oh, the miracle of a clear and possibly elegant sentence emerging from the sticky ink and wending its way between the blots! It is the black of meaning wrung from the black of matter. (…) Isn't the most profound education the one that was afforded me at my childhood elementary school, the one that divides the ink sharply between thought become Letter and drive turned into splotches and blots? How will those who begin with the darkish gray on the palish gray of computer screens manage? Without the slightest inkblot? Won't they think that thought is just another variation of formlessness, that the intellect is just a thin additional coat of gray over the gray of drive, and drive a mere stripping of the gray of the intellect? Everything in the world is the result of a creative and careful dosing of black as it is projected onto the formidable invariability of white. Anyone who hasn't experienced this, and sooner rather than later, will never learn anything. ~ Alain Badiou

I don't know you. The only thing I know about you is, you're reading this. I don't know if your happy or not; I don't know whether you're young or not. I sort of hope you're young and sad. If you're old and happy, I can imagine that you'll smile to yourself when you hear me going, he broke my heart. You'll remember someone who broke your heart, and you'll think to yourself, Oh yes, i remember how that feels. But you can't, you smug old git. Oh you'll remember feeling sort of plesantly sad. You might remember listening to music and eating chocolates in your room, or walking along the embankment on your own, wrapped up in a winter coat and feeling lonely and brave. But can you remember how with every mouthful of food it felt like you were biting into your own stomach? Can you remember the taste of red wine as it came back up and into the toilet bowl? Can you remember dreaming every night that you were still together, that he was talking to you gently and touching you, so that every morning when you woke up you had to go through it all over again? ~ Nick Hornby