Sweater Quotes

A well-made turtleneck sweater will keep you warm, cozy, and protected from the cold. Your gums do the same thing for your teeth. ~ Nadine Artemis

The orb came about because I wanted to do this kitsch sweater for Prince Charles when he went hunting and fishing with his kilt on. ~ Vivienne Westwood

Marko looked as if he could use a makeover himself. A big-boned six foot three, he was much stockier than most Serbians, with an olive complexion and the out-of-proportion head of a Peanuts character. He wore an overcoat that was one size too big, a thick gray Brooks Brothers sweater with flecks of white, and a cream-colored turtleneck that actually made him look like a turtle. Marko ~ Neil Strauss

The voice came first, then the chill across her skin. A moment later, Noah Czerny joined her, dressed as always in his navy Aglionby sweater. Joined was perhaps the wrong verb. Manifested was better. The phrase trick of the light was even more superior. Trick of the mind was the best. Because it was rare that Blue noticed the moment Noah actually appeared. It wasn't that he gently resolved into being. It was that somehow her brain rewrote the minute before to pretend that Noah had been slouching beside her all along. ~ Maggie Stiefvater

The Lord has put more hardships atop the shoulders of my neighbors - more than I can even fathom coping with. I will strive to find a way to turn pity into admiration, for what use is it to send pity back at the world. Admiration and awe are much more helpful, especially when I find myself feeling like a victim for being stuck in traffic or losing my favorite sweater. Perspective is a blessing. ~ Erica Goros

A little blue-eyed blonde in a red hot sweater, wants to spice my chili, I think I'll let her. ~ Toby Keith

None of the chase scenes that I did had any opticals. We had to do all of that physically. The first thing you have to do is see it in your mind's eye. You have to envision it. Imagine someone knitting a sweater or a scarf. They either have a pattern in front of them, or they see a pattern in their mind's eye. Then it's one stitch at a time. That's what shooting a chase is like. ~ William Friedkin

A freshman had to wear a black turtleneck sweater, corduroy trousers, and a little black cap called a 'dink' on the back of his head," he wrote in his autobiography, Confessions of a Maverick ~ Dorothy Wickenden

Or perhaps a widow found him and took him in: brought him an easy chair, changed his sweater every morning, shaved his face until the hair stopped growing, took him faithfully to bed with her every night, whispered sweet nothings into what was left of his ear, laughed with him over black coffee, cried with him over yellowing pictures, talked greenly about having kids of her own, began to miss him before she became sick, left him everything in her will, thought of only him as she died, always knew he was fiction but believed in him anyway. ~ Jonathan Safran Foer

The Swimming Pool

All around the apt. swimming pool
the boys stare at the girls
and the girls look everywhere but the opposite
or down or up. It is
as it was a thousand years ago: the fat
boy has it hardest, he
takes the sneers,
prefers the winter so he can wear
his heavy pants and sweater.
Today, he's here with the others.
Better they are cruel to him in his presence
than out. Of the five here now (three boys,
two girls) one is fat, three cruel,
and one, a girl, wavers to the side,
all the world tearing at her.
As yet she has no breasts
(her friend does) and were it not
for the forlorn fat boy whom she joins
in taunting, she could not bear her terror,
which is the terror
of being him. Does it make her happy
that she has no need, right now, of ingratiation,
of acting fool to salve
her loneliness? She doesn't seem
so happy. She is like
the lower middle class, that fatal group
handed crumbs so they can drop a few
down lower, to the poor, so they won't kill
the rich. All around
the apt. swimming pool
there is what's everywhere: forsakenness
and fear, a disdain for those beneath us
rather than a rage
against the ones above: the exploiters,
the oblivious and unabashedly cruel. ~ Thomas Lux

This is what you remember about him: not much, but then you have been assiduous in your forgetting. His red sweater, v-neck, cashmere; the clink of ice-cubes in a glass. He is shadow and voice, but you cannot recall his face. He is behind a closed door, in a forbidden room. He is asleep in his armchair, he is asleep in the driveway, asleep in your sandpit, face down, snoring but not harmless, even then. He is shouting, he is whispering, he is close but also remote as if at the end of a long hallway and you cannot hear him. His words never make any sense, he speaks some other language. His hands sometimes spin away from him like windmills, like pinwheels and Catherine wheels, snapping like firecrackers. There must be pain, but you cannot feel it.
Your skin bruises like apples. ~ Melanie Finn

Finally, on a windswept, befogged afternoon, the sort in which all of Delhi is wearing a sweater of atmospheric dirt, he went over with the driver to see the Khuranas. ~ Karan Mahajan

His ruby red rimmed moist eyes were two glasses of cranberry. He wore a cashmere sweater the color of Earl Grey tea ... ~ Brandi L. Bates

A tip: if you're invited to your friend's country club to go the lost and found bin and pretend that you left something there. Next thing you know, you have a fabulous sweater ... ~ Lisa Birnbach

Benny explained that it wasn't her sweater. It was borrowed from a fellow. She wondered why she needed to tell so much to strangers. ~ Maeve Binchy

If you were ever dumped after knitting a guy a sweater, consider the possibility that the problem was with the sweater, not you. The recipient probably took one look at the thing, imagined a lifetime of having to pretend to like (and wear) this sweater and others of its like, and saw no choice but to flee into the night ~ Stephanie Pearl-McPhee

A sweater is like life, you get nothing out of it that you don't put into it! ~ Marilyn Monroe

I like your jumper," she said into it.

"You like my what?" Jared asked. Kami tugged at his sleeve in response and he laughed. "In the civilized land of the Americas, we call that a sweater. A jumper is a dress. You might as well have just said, 'Why, Jared, what a fetching frock you're wearing today.' "

"Why, Jared, what a fetching frock you're wearing today," Kami said instantly, raising her head so she could lift her face up to his. "You look ever so pretty."

Jared laughed, a soft huff of breath, and rested his forehead gently against hers. "Your frock's fairly fetching as well."

Kami closed her eyes, embarrassed to let him see she was happy he'd noticed. "Thanks."

"Not as fetching as mine, of course," Jared added. "I am the prettiest. ~ Sarah Rees Brennan

I like sweaters. I have a sweater obsession, I guess. ~ Drake

No two people knit alike, look alike, think alike; why should their projects be alike? Your sweater should be like your own favorite original recipes - like nobody else's on earth.
And a good thing too. ~ Elizabeth Zimmermann

Baseball without fans is like Jayne Mansfield without a sweater. Hang on, that can be taken two ways. ~ Richard M. Nixon

Harry Potter has to go into the lake and find his Wheezy - "
"Find my what?"
" - and take his Wheezy back from the merpeople!"
"What's a Wheezy?"
"Your Wheezy, sir, your Wheezy - Wheezy who is giving Dobby his jumper!"
Bobby plucked at the shrunken maroon sweater he was now wearing over his shorts.
"What?" Harry gasped. "They've got... they've got Ron?"
"The thing Harry Potter will miss the most, sir!" squeaked Dobby. ~ J.K. Rowling

You can think of your life as being a little like knitting. When you first begin, there is no shape to it, but you keep knitting with some goal in mind - to make a sweater, a sock, or whatever. Every stitch is like a thought that you add to the overall shape of your life. Eventually, thoughts lead to action and the form will emerge, if you can only keep your intent in mind. If you have no clear vision, however, you will end up with a random pile of knotted yarn ~ Ilchi Lee

He looked into her face and tossed her sweater on the floor. I thank God you walked out of my memory and into my life. ~ Rachel Gibson

And you're about to pay for that, baby." Furi spun Syn around and pushed his chest against the door. "Furious," Syn groaned when he felt his sweater being roughly yanked over his head. Furi's hand pressed hard into the center of his back, keeping him pinned against the front door. "Yes, punish me." Syn froze when Furi's assault on his body stopped immediately after he said that. Oh no. Furi's hair was brushing against Syn's face as he leaned in to whisper in his ear, "You ever been handcuffed, Sergeant? Restrained." Syn shivered, his cock leaking in his tight jeans. "Oh fuck." "Don't ~ A.E. Via

Blanche, prosaic in a pale yellow sweater and blue jeans, was wondering again if anything mattered - -life, faith
specifically, finishing homework assignments. ~ Regina Doman

I am a writer who does not enjoy writing. I can find innumerable ways to avoid it. But, to rip off Dorothy Parker, nothing else - nothing - gives me the same thrill as having written. I'm the same way with knitting. The process is fine, mind you, and keeps my hands busy. But nothing else - nothing - gives me the rush that I get from finishing something.

"The parallels between writing and knitting go even further. Like writing, knitting has a finite number of raw ingredients. There are twenty-six letters in the alphabet. Those letters can combine to give you David Foster Wallace or freshman composition papers. There are only two basic stitches: the knit and the purl. Those stitches can add up to a gorgeously complicated sweater or a pastel pink toilet paper cozy. The difference is in the mind that shapes them. ~ Adrienne Martini

She loved him the way one loves an old bridge or a wool sweater or the sound of a growing tulip. ~ Joseph Fink

I really wish you hadn't worn that sweater,'he muttered into her ear.
'It's good practice for you,' she replied,her lips moving against his skin.
'Tomorrow,fishnets.'
Against her side,warm and familiar,she felt him laugh. ~ Cassandra Clare

Blue jeans, white shirt
Walked into the room you know you made my eyes burn
It was like, James Dean, for sure
You're so fresh to death and sick as ca-cancer
You were sorta punk rock, I grew up on hip hop
But you fit me better than my favourite sweater, and I know
That love is mean, and love hurts
But I still remember that day we met in december, oh baby!

I will love you 'til the end of time
I would wait a million years
Promise you'll remember that you're mine
Baby can you see through the tears
Love you more
Than those bitches before
Say you'll remember, oh baby, say you'll remember
I will love you 'til the end of time

Big dreams, gangster
Said you had to leave to start your life over
I was like, "No please, stay here,
We don't need no money we can make it all work,"
But he headed out on sunday, said he'd come home monday
I stayed up waitin', anticipatin', and pacin'
But he was chasing paper
"Caught up in the game" ‒ that was the last I heard

I will love you 'til the end of time
I would wait a million years
Promise you'll remember that you're mine
Baby can you see through the tears
Love you more
Than those bitches before
Say you'll remember, oh baby, say you'll remember
I will love you 'til the end of time

You went out every night
And baby that's alright
I told you that no matter what y ~ Lana Del Rey

I am a cutter, you see. Also a snipper, a slicer, a carver, a jabber. I am a very special case. I have a purpose. My skin, you see, screams. It's covered with words - cook, cupcake, kitty, curls - as if a knife-wielding first-grader learned to write on my flesh. I sometimes, but only sometimes, laugh. Getting out of the bath and seeing, out of the corner of my eye, down the side of a leg: babydoll. Pull on a sweater and, in a flash of my wrist: harmful. Why these words? Thousands of hours of therapy have yielded a few ideas from the good doctors. They are often feminine, in a Dick and Jane, pink vs. puppy dog tails sort of way. Or they're flat-out negative. Number of synonyms for anxious carved in my skin: eleven. The one thing I know for sure is that at the time, it was crucial to see these letters on me, and not just see them, but feel them. Burning on my left hip: petticoat.

And near it, my first word, slashed on an anxious summer day at age thirteen: wicked. I woke up that morning, hot and bored, worried about the hours ahead. How do you keep safe when your whole day is as wide and empty as the sky? Anything could happen. I remember feeling that word, heavy and slightly sticky across my pubic bone. My mother's steak knife. Cutting like a child along red imaginary lines. Cleaning myself. Digging in deeper. Cleaning myself. Pouring bleach over the knife and sneaking through the kitchen to return it. Wicked. Relief. The rest of the day, I spent ministering to my ~ Gillian Flynn

There's something about a Christmas sweater that will always make me laugh. ~ Kristen Wiig

I love you. she whispered into the rough wool of his sweater. ~ L.J.Smith

I collaborated with fellow cat lover and designer Geren Ford to create a sweater that we hope any cat parent would wear to show their kitty pride and that all animal lovers can wear in support of the ASPCA. ~ Kellie Pickler

but also for the sweater most expertly knitted from hand-spun wool, ~ Rosamunde Pilcher

A lifevest protects you from drowning and a bulletproof vest protects you from getting shot, and a sweater vest protects you from pretty girls. ~ Demetri Martin

I won't usually make plans with people I don't know on Fridays because all I want to do is stick my hair in a ponytail and put on a big sweater, some tights and a pair of sneakers after a week working in the city. ~ Bobbi Brown

I had a dream about you. We made a good team, you and I, and I thought we were in love, but our coach didn't agree. He tried saying he wanted to trade you to another team, but I said if he did that I'm going to take up competitive knitting. He knew I was serious, because the word on the street was that Weezer's "The Sweater Song" was inspired by a legendary cat sweater I knitted. ~ Jarod Kintz

She laughed, but this time it sounded hoarse. "It's alright," she said, leaning in again. "It's not the first time I've fucked to get a part."
Mark took a step back, putting his hand forward to distance her. The way she said fucked sounded exactly like the way she said rat, and he felt certain that this was all wrong.
"How could you say that?"
"Say what? You can't be new to this."
"That's not an excuse," he said, taking another step back. "Why do you do this? How can you do this?"

She stopped her approach. Her eyes turned to the abandoned plate of steak on the coffee table. Mark, unable to imagine what she was feeling, picked up her sweater from the floor and handed it to her. She took it without looking at him, then sat on the couch. She began to cry.
"I'm sorry," he said. "But there's no reason for you to do any of this."

She put her sweater on, straightened her skirt, then turned to face him. "I do this," she said, gesturing gat the couch, "because the moment I spend being someone else on screen is better than the twenty-eight years I've spent being myself. ~ Tablo

I don't know if you've ever knit a sweater, but by the end of it, you're like, 'Ugh I can't wear this. I can't stand the color. I'm so tired of it.' ~ Perrey Reeves

Colour is what gives jewels their worth. They light up and enhance the face. Nothing is more elegant than a black skirt and sweater worn with a sparkling multi-stoned necklace. ~ Christian Dior

She wore a short skirt and a tight sweater and her figure described a set of parabolas that could cause cardiac arrest in a yak. ~ Woody Allen

What are those, leg sweaters?" "They're leg warmers." "You're wearing at least four different kinds of sweater." "This is a scarf." "You look tarred and sweatered. ~ Rainbow Rowell

She's wearing a tight red sweater and a red skirt and enough makeup to scare a hooker. ~ Kathryn Stockett

What is the world? What is it for?
It is an art. It is the best of all possible art, a finite picture of the infinite. Assess it like prose, like poetry, like architecture, sculpture, painting, dance, delta blues, opera, tragedy, comedy, romance, epic. Assess it like you would a Faberge egg, like a gunfight, like a musical, like a snowflake, like a death, a birth, a triumph, a love story, a tornado, a smile, a heartbreak, a sweater, a hunger pain, a desire, a fufillment, a desert, a waterfall, a song, a race, a frog, a play, a song, a marriage, a consummation, a thirst quenched.
Assess it like that. And when you're done, find an ant and have him assess the cathedrals of Europe. ~ N.D. Wilson

Hell freezing over?
I don't know. But the devil's definitely wearing a sweater. ~ J.R. Moehringer

The best thing about knitting is its slowness," says Murphy. "It is so slow that we see the beauty inherent in every tiny act that makes up a sweater. So slow that we know the project is not going to get finished today--it may not get finished for many months or longer--and that allows us to make our peace with the unresolved nature of life. We slow down as we knit. ~ Carl Honore

I felt Seth pulling me to look at him instead of watching her go. That in itself made my pulse race. "That ... " he sighed and licked his lip, "was the hottest thing I've ever seen." "You're not upset with me?" The corner of his mouth lifted just a smidge before he leaned in ever so slowly and captured my lips, his warm palm finding my side inside my open sweater, tugging me to him with a jolt. I gasped against his lips. He enjoyed that immensely, smiling into our kiss. ~ Shelly Crane

I found this." He put the briefcase on the table and opened the locks. She saw a stack of papers, an evidence bag with a red seal. He pulled a college notebook with a blue plastic cover from one of the pockets. Black fingerprint powder spotted the cover. "I tried to clean it up," he said, wiping the grime on the front of his sweater. "I'm sorry. It was in Allison's car and I..." He flipped through the pages, showing her the scrawled handwriting. "I can't," he said. "I just can't."
She realized that Will hadn't looked at her once since walking into the room. He had such an air of defeat about him, as if every word that came from his mouth caused him pain. ~ Karin Slaughter

What is this?" she coughed out.

"All you're gonna get…or maybe not." The last bit was said in such a deep, throaty voice, she strained to catch it. It sounded naughty, like he was contemplating tangling his fingers into her hair, pulling her head back, and covering her mouth with his own. Oh sweet pirouette. She felt a little bit breathless at the idea. The booze didn't help.

Needing something to do with her hands besides reaching across the table and testing out his "maybe not," she fiddled with the hem of her sweater. Her cheeks warmed, nevertheless.
KNOCK OUT ~ Michele Mannon

Imama looked at the black sweater and the white collar peeking out of it. She put her arms around his neck and rested her head on his chest. She inhaled the soft cologne he was using. Salar was absolutely still as if he could not believe what was happening. Then, gently, he embraced her. "I am honoured," she heard him say. ~ Umera Ahmed- Peer-e-Kamil

He reminds me of a comfortable sweater that you pull on, knowing it will keep you warm every time. ~ Katherine Reay

The trousers were miles too long, even when Peter cuffed the legs. The socks bagged in the ankles, and the shirt and sweater were equally large. But when Peter finally managed to get the collars to lie right and glanced at the reflection he'd carved out of the dust on James's mirror, a shock went through him.
This was the face which had haunted him all his life, the one he had looked in the eye on the day he left the Darling house for the last time. The hair, messy and short, enthusiastically curling without the weight of his old braid to drag it down. The stubborn chin. The clear, sharp, sullen eyes full of everything he had never been allowed to be.
Peter ran his hands over himself slowly, breathing tentatively, feeling the weight of his chest under his shirt. He had given this body up. He had thought it belonged to Wendy, to the girl he wasn't. He had let his family make him believe that the only way he would ever be a boy was to be born again in a different shape, leaving everything of his body and history behind.
He breathed out and settled in the feeling of being himself, of being something whole. ~ Austin Chant

For the Wife Beater's Wife

With blue irises her face is blossomed. Blue
Circling to yellow, circling to brown on her cheeks.
The long bone of her jaw untracked
She hides in our kitchen.
He sleeps it off next door.

Her chicken legs tucked under her
She's frantic with lies, animated
Before the swirling smoke.
On her cigarette she leaves red prints, red
Like a cut on the white cup.
Like a skin she pulls her sweater around her.
She's cold,
She brings the cold in with her.

In our kitchen she hides.
He sleeps it off next door, his great
Belly heaving with booze.
Again and again she tells the story
As if the details ever changed,
As if blows to the face were somehow
Different beating to beating.

We reach for her but can't help.
She retreats into her cold love of him
And looks across the table at us
As if across a sea.
Next door he claws out of sleep.
She says she thinks she'll do something
After all, with her hair tonight. ~ Bruce Weigl

I drove around New York when we did the upfronts and when we premiered 'Fargo,' and they crocheted a sweater for a double-decker bus and drove it around. ~ Noah Hawley

One more salt to try," Kellan said, reaching into the box. He brought a jar of black, flaky crystals up to the light. "Black diamond finishing salt. Extremely rare and too bold for those with meek palates. But, for a true connoisseur, the flavor is incomparable." He lowered her head and torso to the ground and pushed her sweater up to expose her stomach and ribs. "I want to sample it on your skin. ~ Melissa Cutler

After that, he couldn't be sure how it happened, but she wasn't crying anymore and he wasn't thinking. At all. His hands were underneath her sweater, touching every inch of her warm, smooth skin; they were kissing like two condemned people suddenly given a reprieve; and his feeling of calm morphed into happiness so intense, he'd swear his blood was singing. ~ Trinity Faegen

I was talking to a friend about Santorum. He said, 'For all my years in the State Department, I know one thing. Terrorists, what they fear most is a guy in a sweater vest.' ~ David Letterman

I got sent to a health camp when I was about 6 years old, and we all had to wear the same starchy blue uniform. The lady who took care of me after school knit me a burgundy sweater. It was the only thing that gave me any individuality. ~ Barbra Streisand

I played a few rough versions of songs while Chad sat by, looking lost. Mia came in wearing black leather pants and a tight sweater. As I strummed the Gibson, she made her way over to the piano. She smiled and threw her hand up, waving to Chad. He smiled back and then I watched him study her as she passed. Then his dipshit, googly eyes dropped to her ass while she moved the piano bench out.

When he looked back at me, I glared at him and began strumming a dreary and much louder tune. His body sank into his chair and he dropped his head down to stare at his fidgeting hands. Mia began playing a sullen little melody in an attempt to accompany the monotonous song I was forming, and then she stopped abruptly and turned toward me.

I continued playing.

"Is this going to be a ballad?" she asked.

Without taking my eyes off of dipshit, I said, "No, baby, this is what's called a funeral march."

Chad threw his arms up and said, "I get it. I get it. I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" Mia asked.

"Nothing!" Chad and I both shouted.

"Let's move on," I said, arching one eyebrow at him.

Chad kept his eyes trained on either the ground or me through the rest of the session ~ Renee Carlino

Theo made a mental note to look up the care of violets after she left. He was going to raise the healthiest potted violet ever. He'd knit it a damn sweater for the winter, if need be. ~ Sam Burns

A terrified-looking bystander, a nerdy man in a sweater, calls the police and stammers into the phone: 'A huge group of people are fighting and there's pepper spray and superheroes and I don't know. ~ Jon Ronson

Tits always look better in a pink sweater. ~ George Carlin

I came across an account of a young man named Kim Malthe-Bruun, who was eventually captured and executed by the Nazis when he was only twenty-one years old. I read his story as I had read many others, turning the pages, skimming here and there: this sabotage, that tactic, this capture, that escape. After a while even courage becomes routine to the reader. Then, quite unprepared, I turned the page and faced a photograph of Kim Malthe-Bruun. He wore a turtleneck sweater, and his thick, light hair was windblown. His eyes looked out at me, unwavering on the page. Seeing him there, so terribly young, broke my heart. ~ Lois Lowry

Nobody gave me what I wanted for my birthday! Nobody! What sort of presents do you call these? New shoes, a green sweater and a bunch of stupid toys!"
"What were you expecting?"
"Real estate! ~ Charles M. Schulz

Lara Jean?"
"Yes?"
I peek around the door and it's Lucas Krapf, wearing a thin V-neck sweater in brilliant blue and stone-colored khakis. "I've had this for a while now…I wans't going to say anything, but then I thought maybe you'd want it back." He puts a pink envelope in my hand. It's my letter. So Lucas got his, too.
I drop it into my locker, make a yikes face at myself in the mirror, and then close the door. "So you're probably wondering what this is all about," I begin. And then I immediately falter. "It's um, well, I wrote it a long time ago, and--"
"You don't have to explain."
"Really? You're not curious?"
"No. It was just really nice to get a letter like that. I was actually pretty honored."
I let out a relieved sigh and sag against my locker. Why is Lucas Krapf just so exactly right? He knows how to say the perfect thing.
And then Lucas gives me a half grimace, half smile. "But the thing is…" He lowers his voice. "You know I'm gay, right?"
"Oh, right, totally," I say, trying not to sound disappointed. "No, I totally knew." So Peter was right after all.
Lucas smiles. "You're so cute," he says, and I perk up again. Then he says, "Listen, can you not tell anybody, though? I mean, I'm out, but I'm not out out yet. You know what I mean?"
"Totally," I say, super confident. ~ Jenny Han

Two windows," she said with a smile. "And there's no such word as besweatered." "It's like bespectacled, only with a sweater. ~ Janet Evanovich

He only invited me because of you and Chase.'
'Right,' she said, following me inside. 'He's never shown the slightest interest in you before. I mean, he's never stared at you like you're the only person in the room when we're all together. Or sulked around for days because you turned him down for a dance. Or touched the sleeve of your sweater when he thinks no one's looking-'
'He's never done any of that,' I said. Then, less confidently, 'Has he? ~ Claire LaZebnik

He had a carrying, congressional sort of voice, the kind that sounded good saying things like Less of a tax burden on the middle class and Thank you for your donation and Honey, could you bring me my sweater with the duck on it? ~ Maggie Stiefvater

You smile, embarrassed to be a nice girl, and your nails are bare and your V-neck sweater is beige and it's impossible to know if you're wearing a bra but I don't think that you are. ~ Caroline Kepnes

When she opened her eyes, she was both in her body and watching it, nowhere near the cavity of the tree. The Blue that was before her stood inches from a boy in an Aglionby sweater. There was a slight stoop to his posture, and his shoulders were spattered darkly with rain. It was his fingers that Blue felt on her face. He touched her cheek with the backs of his fingers.
Tears coursed down the other Blue's face. Though some strange magic, Blue could feel them on her face as well. She could feel, too, sick, rising misery she'd felt in the churchyard, the grief that felt bigger than her. The other Blue's tears seemed endless. One drop slid after another, each following an identical path down her cheeks.
The boy in the Aglionby sweater leaned his forehead against Blue's. She felt the pressure of his skin against hers, and suddenly she could smell mint.
It'll be okay. Gansey told the other Blue. She could tell that he was afraid. It'll be okay.
Impossibly, Blue realized that this other Blue was crying because she loved Gansey. And that the reason Gansey touched her like that, his fingers so careful with her, was because he knew that her kiss could kill him. She could feel how badly the other Blue wanted to kiss him, even as she dreaded it. Though she couldn't understand why, her real, present day memories in the tree cavity were clouded with other false memories of their lips nearly touching, a life this other Blue had already lived.
Okay, I'm ready- Gan ~ Maggie Stiefvater

After every shirt she looks at me and smiles, letting go of air she no longer needs. She laughs after the sweater, knowing I'm gonna tell her it's too hot for it, knowing she'll say it's for the plane and ask what if the room gets cold? ~ Darnell Lamont Walker

Put on a sweater. ~ Jimmy Carter

Ira felt as if he'd contracted an all-over emotional itch, as if he'd put on a sweater made of spiritually abrasive wool- but to take it off would leave him dreadfully cold. ~ Julia Glass

~self-soothing technique~
Count on Your Senses 5-4-3-2-1

When you have trouble clearing your mind of thoughts of food, try focusing on your senses.
.1. State one scent you can smell.
.2. Name two sounds you can hear.
.3. Describe three sensations your body is feeling, such as temperature, the texture of your sweater, your feet against the ground.
.4. Identify four colors that you see.
.5. To yourself, begin by naming five things you see in front of you.
When you finish doing this, it's like that you will be thinking about nothing, not even food – unless there's food directly in front of you. If you are still thinking about food, repeat each step until you notice that your thoughts are less clouded by food cravings. ~ Susan Albers Psy D

Don't you remember, Travis? You ruined her sweater."
Travis smiled. "I ruin a lot of sweaters."
"Gross," I muttered. ~ Jamie McGuire

Jamie: Please don't pretend like you know me, ok?
Landon: But I do, I do. We've had all the same classes in the same school since kindergarten. Why you're Jamie Sullivan. You sit at lunch table 7. Which isn't exactly the reject table, but is definitely in self exile territory. You have exactly one sweater. You like to look at your feet when you walk. Oh, oh, and yeah, for fun, you like to tutor on weekends and hang out with the cool kids from "Stars and Planets." Now how does that sound?
Jamie: Thoroughly predictable, nothing I haven't heard before.
Landon: You don't care what people think about you?
Jamie: No. ~ Nicholas Sparks

The sweater was much easier to climb. ~ Terry Pratchett

The front door opened as he walked up the steps, and she appeared like a spirit in a black dress. She didn't have on the red sweater. That, at least, was a relief. But the scent of peppermint swirled around her and reached out to him as he got nearer. Damn, she smelled good. She always made him smile and remember things he hadn't thought of in ages- Christmases, hot chocolate with his family, schnapps at lodge bars. ~ Sarah Addison Allen

Nate liked Death. Death was in the clothes that he wore and the music he listened to. He would wrap himself in a black sweater and ask Death to ride along with him in his Honda Civic. ~ Lisa Ann Sandell

It is not fair to be old, to put on a brown sweater. ~ William Carlos Williams

Even when I was a little kid, I hated to dress up. I hated to put on regular shoes. I wanted to play all the time. I hate to wear any kind of coat or sweater. I've never liked hot. I've never liked to be warm. ~ John Madden

I looked exactly like the female version of George Costanza when I was in sixth grade… I insisted on dressing myself in monochromatic outfits. All my shirts had an animal performing an action on them. I had a pink sweater with penguins knitting to match my pink ribbed leggings. A hunter green shirt with dogs painting. ~ Olive B. Persimmon

Instead she has on a sweater that looks soft, the kind when I was a kid I would stop and pet whenever my mom forced me to go shopping. ~ Julie Buxbaum

His young man's limbs, sleek in their dark male pride, seemed to disdain the covering offered them by the brief shorts and striped jersey. His body might have been naked, like his full, muscled throat, which rose, round and proud as the male organ of a flower, from the neck of his sweater. ~ Stella Gibbons

Good friends are like cozy sweaters, they'll always be there to keep you warm when the rest of the world leaves you shivering. ~ Jennifer LeBlanc

There is just something about women who spend hours and hours knitting a sweater with mind-blowingly expensive yarn, when they could just buy a sweater for a fraction of the price - not to mention the time saved doing so - that lends itself to acceptance and patience for the human condition. ~ Penny Reid

The notion of the writer as a kind of sociological sample of a community is ludicrous. Even worse is the notion that writers should provide an example of how to live. Virginia Woolf ended her life by putting a rock in her sweater one day and walking into a lake. She is not a model of how I want to live my life. On the other hand, the bravery of her syntax, of her sentences, written during her deepest depression, is a kind of example for me. But I do not want to become Virginia Woolf. That is not why I read her. ~ Richard Rodriguez

I saw a dog wearing a sweater and I thought that looked ridiculous 'cause dogs don't have arms. If you're going to put clothes on the dog, you should put two pairs of pants on it. ~ Demetri Martin

He's never shown the slightest interest in you before. I mean, he's never stared at you like you're the only person in the room when we're al together. Or sulked around for days because you turned him down for a dance. Or touched the sleeve of your sweater when he thinks no one's looking - ~ Claire LaZebnik

Remodeling is like pulling a loose thread on a cheap sweater - the job keeps unraveling. ~ Margo Kaufman

I need to go to the grocery store because I've got nothing in my fridge but an old t-shirt, a pair of jeans, and a sweater (after all, it does get cold in the fridge). ~ Jarod Kintz

He had cheated on a college exam, ripped a picture of a woman out of a magazine. He had returned a sweater and got drunk in the middle of the day instead. These were the things he had told her. He had held his son, who had known life only within her, against his chest in a darkened room in an unknown wing of the hospital. He had held him until a nurse knocked and took him away, and he promised himself that day that he would never tell Shoba, because he still loved her then, and it was the one thing in her life that she had wanted to be a surprise. ~ Anonymous

She thinks: A gift is a gift; you don't get to choose, whether it be a secret kept, a polite falsehood, a book you've already read, or a sweater that does not fit. You open it, you open your mind, you do not think about how you might use it or whether indeed it is any use to you. You understand that the giver is giving you what she can, that she is doing her best.
You say thank you. ~ Carrie Snyder

For work I get so dolled up that it's nice to wear boyfriend jeans and a sweater. ~ Meghan Markle

Téléclitoridienne means simply "female of the distant clitoris," but it had a lovely, aristocratic ring to it - calling to mind a career woman in heels and sweater set, cabling reports from her home in Biarritz. At the very least, it had a nicer ring to it than "frigid. ~ Mary Roach

Silence guides the mind... ~ The Neighbourhood

I always see celebs in very weird spots. I don't always go to fancy-shmancy places, but I see celebs at coffee shops or random stores, when you're looking for a sweater and turn around like, 'OMG, that's Fred Savage!' ~ Ross Mathews

Noah held his hand out. She accepted it - it was bone-cold, as always - and together they turned to face the huge room. Noah took a deep breath as if they were preparing to explore the jungle instead of stepping deeper into Monmouth Manufacturing.
It seemed bigger with just the two of them there. The cobwebbed ceiling soared, dust motes making mobiles overhead. They turned their heads sideways and read the titles of the books aloud. Blue peered at Henrietta through the telescope. Noah daringly reattached one of the broken miniature roofs on Gansey's scale town. They went through the fridge tucked in the bathroom. Blue selected a soda. Noah took a plastic spoon. He chewed on it as Blue fed Chainsaw a leftover hamburger. They closed Ronan's door - if Gansey still managed to inhabit the rest of the apartment, Ronan's presence was still decidedly pervasive in his room. Noah showed Blue his room. They jumped on his perfectly made bed and then they played a bad game of pool. Noah lounged on the new sofa while Blue persuaded the old record player to play an LP too clever to interest either of them. They opened all the drawers on the desk in the main room. One of Gansey's EpiPens bounced against the interior of the topmost drawer as Blue withdrew a fancy pen. She copied Gansey's blocky handwriting onto a Nino's receipt as Noah put on a preppy sweater he'd found balled under the desk. She ate a mint leaf and breathed on Noah's face.
Crouching, they crab-walked along the aeri ~ Maggie Stiefvater

I want to make love with you right here, Lorens."

Various thoughts flashed through his mind: they were on a public footpath, someone might come by, some other person crazy enough to visit this place in the middle of winter. But anyone crazy enough to do so would also be able to understand that certain forces, once set in motion, cannot be interrupted.

He slipped his hands under her sweater and stroked her breasts. Brida surrendered herself entirely. The forces of the world were penetrating her five senses and these were becoming transformed into an overwhelming energy. They lay down on the ground among the rock, the precipice, and the sea, between the life of the seagulls flying up above and the death of the stones beneath. And they began, fearlessly, to make love, because God protects the innocent. They no longer felt the cold. Their blood was flowing so fast in their veins that she tore off some of her clothes and so did he.

There was no more
pain; knees and back were pressed into the stony ground, but that became part of their pleasure, completing it. Brida knew that she was close to orgasm, but it was still a very remote feeling, because she was entirely connected to the world: her body and Lorens's body mingled with the sea and the stones, with life and death. She remained in that state for as long as possible, while some part of her was vaguely conscious that she was doing things she had never done before. What she was feeling, th ~ Paulo Coelho