Sweaty Quotes

Sweaty palms. check. shaky bones. check. the feeling that all oxygen in the air has been replaced by helium. yup. ~ David Levithan

The best things in life make you sweaty. ~ Edgar Allan Poe

The silence lengthened, becoming strained and awkward until it was broken by the goose's imperious honk.
Swift glanced at the massive bird. "You have a companion, I see."
When Daisy explained what the two boys had been doing with the goose, Swift grinned. "Clever lads."
The remark did not strike Daisy as being especially compassionate.
"I want to help him," she said. "But when I tried to get near, he pecked me. I expected a domestic breed would have been a bit more receptive to my approach."
"Greylags are not known for their mild temperaments," Swift informed her. "Particularly males. He was probably trying to show you who was boss."
"He proved his point," Daisy said, rubbing her arm.
Swift frowned as he saw the growing bruise on her arm. "Is that where he pecked you? Let me see."
"No, it's all right - " she began, but he had already come forward.
His long fingers encircled her wrist, the thumb of his other hand passing gently near the dark purple mark. "You bruise easily," he murmured, his dark head bent over her arm.
Daisy's heart dispensed a series of hard thumps before settling into a fast rhythm. He smelled like the outdoors - sun, water, grassy-sweet. And deeper in the fragrance lingered the tantalizing incense of warm, sweaty male. She fought the instinct to move into his arms, against his body…to pull his hand to her breast. The mute craving shocked her.
Glancing up at his downturned face, Daisy found h ~ Lisa Kleypas

Hiking is sort of like strip poker: by the end, all the participants are hot, sweaty, and nearly naked, and the winner is the person who wore the most layers. ~ Winona Dimeo-Ediger

Modern war is fought by a number of strong, sweaty horsemen with constipation, who have their eyes on power, on wealth and on glory, and who obey the rules just when it pleases them. ~ Dorothy Dunnett

I got out of bed and opened the door. I was still naked, still sweaty and disheveled and glowing from all the love and passion and eating of buttholes. ~ Justin Grimbol

I mean something dirty, sweaty," Luiz corrected idly, leaning closer. He stroked the back of his knuckles down Michael's cheek. "What I like best. Rock, blues, with an edge of metal. Something dangerous. Real. The audience driven to ... well, in the old days it would have been bloodlust. But these are more temperate times. So lust will have to do. ~ Jae T. Jaggart

I'm about to wake Brianna up to see if she knows anything when Carolyn comes in. Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail and she's wearing workout clothes - sports bra, cropped leggins, running shoes.
For a moment, I'm speechless. She's sweaty, her face is bright red from exertion, and she's slightly out of breath. Her ab muscles pulse as she takes a swig from her water bottle. She smiles at me, her lips wet from the water or sweat or both, and something strange happen-I feel like a hand has clenched around my insides and is tugging, urging me toward her, and I suddenly feel very warm. Hot, even. Like I've been hit with a fever. I have to remind myself to breathe.
She's even more beautiful now than she was yesterday.
And here I am, in this ridiculous pink sack, probably with major bedhead. ~ Jessica Verdi

She took him to places inside a shaded room that he'd only dimly imagined might exist, and while there in sweaty reality he reclined like a pasha of lust, a man lost to squirts, sighs, fresh angles of entry and the enveloping stink, and to find this carnal enchantment for the first time at his age was to welcome a streaking of madness into his life - madness he prayed had no end now that it had begun. ~ Daniel Woodrell

Fuming, I reach for the stick at my feet; however, this is the precise moment that a small black garter snake slithers out in front of me. I do what any normal fourteen-year-old girl would do: scream my head off, dance in spastic horror, and throw my tobacco knife into the dirt-completely missing the snake. I look to Luke for help, but he's laughing hysterically, which really gets my already hot blood boiling. Wrists on sweaty forehead, breathing totally out of control, I walk around in a circle until the disgusting little reptile slithers away.
I am-offically-over it. ~ Alecia Whitaker

Don't sweat the petty things and don't pet the sweaty things. ~ George Carlin

What do you know?" I wonder, pulling Daisy's sweaty hair out of her face. Ryke gives me a solid glare. "You masturbate too much. ~ Krista Ritchie

I'm quite shy, so if there's a guy I like, I actually ignore him because I can't speak to him. I get all red and sweaty, and it's embarrassing. ~ Silvia Colloca

You're not supposed to be here," Lillian told Westcliff when the contraction was over. She clung to his hand as if it were a lifeline. "You're supposed to be downstairs pacing and drinking."
"Good God, woman," Westcliff muttered, blotting her sweaty face with a dry cloth, "I did this to you. I'm hardly going to let you face the consequences alone."
That produced a faint smile on Lillian's dry lips. ~ Lisa Kleypas

Getting sweaty with a woman after some good sex was one thing, but he'd rather not start out that way. ~ Cat Johnson

Hey," Trenton said, breathless and sweaty.
He pulled a few yellow strands of fake hair from his face.
"Did you lose a bet?" I asked.
"As a matter of fact, I did."
Taylor and Tyler were across the room, slapping their knees and laughing so hard they could barely breathe.
I slapped Trenton's ass. "You look hot, bro."
"Thanks," he said. The music started and he shook his hips at me. I pushed him away, and, undeterred, he danced across the room to entertain the crowd. ~ Jamie McGuire

Pip winds his arms up around Lindsay's neck and kisses him back, and this time
he's the one to close his eyes and escape into darkness so there's nothing in the world except the soft curls under his
fingers and the touch of Lindsay's breath on his mouth and the slow, sliding friction.
"Lindsay, do you still hate me?"
"I do when I remember to," Lindsay says quietly, but he doesn't stop moving and he doesn't stop kissing him for a long time, on his trembling mouth and his sweaty forehead and his wet, closed eyes. ~ Richard Rider

I loved the way he smelled, too, even though he was sweaty and dirty and un-showered. I could have stuck my nose in his armpit and inhaled happily. It was one of those very human things that was sort of sexy and sort of gross at the same time. ~ Mia Sheridan

That was ... oh, God, Joe. That was ... I honestly didn't know what the fuss was all about. God. We can do that again, right? Please tell me we can do that again!" Joe's lips curved up into a slow smile. "Give me fifteen minutes and a washcloth and we can probably do it again tonight. Good enough for you?" Casey smiled back, unbelievably sexy in the dark of the room. "Yeah, old man - I'll be impressed as hell if that's all it takes. But I wouldn't object." Joe pushed Casey's sweaty hair from his eyes. "I love you, kid. There's not much I wouldn't do to make you happy." Casey's grin turned serious. "I love you too, Joe. You know that, right?" "I do," Joe said softly. "I do. And I believe it with everything, or we wouldn't be here." The grin returned, but it was luminous and brighter this time. "Good. ~ Amy Lane

He hates chain stores and fast-food restaurants, mass-produced items and fashionable clothes - any instance of something that is repeated across the world regardless of local context. These things deny the uniqueness of each moment and each person. They function as if we were all printed out of plastic like egg boxes, and they try to make us function the same way. They are the intrusion of perfection into our grubby, smelly, sweaty living place. ~ Nick Harkaway

I'm glad I ran into you. It was true. Seeing him shirtless and sweaty was like a shot in the arm. She now felt like she had the hormone power to walk for miles. ~ Becky Wade

She hated him, this man, and these men: the ones who picked her up without expression and used her without emotion. The ones who picked her up with no more regard than they had for picking lint off the collars of their well-pressed suits. She preferred the sweaty nervousness of young virgins or the eager speediness of excited old vets with their knobby fingers and waxy breath to these cold, hard men. These were the ones who called her squaw. Who called her half-breed, the ones who would just as soon slap her than bother to put on the condom she always handed them. She often wondered why they didn't just keep the $80 it cost to be with her and drive their comfortable, bucket-seated SUVs home to the suburbs. They could kiss their wives hello and then slip into very hot showers to jerk off for free. Their peckish wives could spend the money they saved spending an afternoon getting the silk wraps and pedicures that would goad them into putting out anyways. To these men she had no name and no face. She was a hole. Consequently, she held no regard for these bastards. She gave them the calculated respect accorded to dangerous dogs. ~ Cherie Dimaline

There are two social classes in Pakistan," Professor Superb said to his unsuspecting audience, gripping the podium with both hands as he spoke. "The first group, large and sweaty, contains those referred to as the masses. The second group is much smaller, but its members exercise vastly greater control over their immediate environment and are collectively termed the elite. The distinction between members of these two groups is made on the basis of control of an important resource:air-conditioning. You see, the elite have managed to re-create for themselves the living standards of say, Sweden without leaving the dusty plains of the subcontinent. They're a mixed lot - Punjabi and Pathans, Sindhis and Baluchis, smugglers , mullahs, soldiers, industrialists - united by their residence in an artificially cooled world. They wake up in air-conditioned houses, drive air-conditioned cars to air-conditioned offices, grab lunch in air-conditioned restaurants (rights of admission reserved), and at the end of the day go home to an air-conditioned lounges to relax in front of their wide-screen TVs. And if they should think about the rest of the people, the great uncooled, and become uneasy as they lie under their blankets in the middle of the summer, there is always prayer, five times a day, which they hope will gain them admittance to an air-conditioned heaven, or at the very least, a long, cool drink during a fiery day in hell. ~ Mohsin Hamid

You. Killed. A. Hermit. You. Weird. Sweaty. Bastard! ~ Lev Grossman

Um, sweetums?" Driggs piped up.
Lex blew a sweaty clump of hair off her forehead. "What did you just call me?"
He sank further under her glower. "I just - ow ! ~ Gina Damico

Because there's a silent, shrugging, stoical acceptance of all the things in the world we can never be part of: shorts, swimming pools, strappy dresses, country walks, roller-skating, ra-ra skirts, vest tops, high heels, rope climbing, sitting on a high stool, walking past building sites, flirting, being kissed, feeling confident. And ever losing weight, ever. The idea of suggesting we don't have to be fat –that things could change –is the most distant and alien prospect of all. We're fat now and we'll be fat forever and we must never, ever mention it, and that is the end of it. It's like Harry Potter's Sorting Hat. We were pulled from the hat marked 'Fat' and that is what we must now remain, until we die. Fat is our race. Our species. Our mode. As a result, there is very little of the outside world –and very little of the year –we can enjoy. Summer is sweaty under self-conscious layers. On stormy days, wind flattens skirts against thighs, and alarms both us and, we think, onlookers and passers-by. Winter is the only time we feel truly comfortable: covered head to toe in jumpers, coats, boots and hat. I develop a crush on Father Christmas. If I married him, not only would I be expected to stay fat, but I'd look thin standing next to him, in comparison. Perspective would be my friend. We all dream of moving to Norway, or Alaska, where we could wear massive padded coats all the time, and never reveal an inch of flesh. When it rains, we're happiest of all. Then we can just stay ~ Caitlin Moran

He seemed only ... annoyed. Annoyed, and sweaty, and hot.
"Yeah, well," he said, "the next time you decide to sneak out of our magically warded apartment through a door that shouldn't really exist, leave a note. ~ Cassandra Clare

Melody began to mumble incomprehensibly under her breath as she worked frantically on securing her most important papers into bankers boxes.
Her father stomped into her room, eating a banana.
Melody looked up at him with a sweaty and nauseated look on her face. "What are you tramping around so heavily about?" she asked him.
Bernie finished the last of the banana, and then held the peel in his hand as though it were a washcloth he had just found on the floor of a gym locker room.
Melody pointed to her trashcan with her eyes.
"I make an insane amount of noise when I approach you, because you once yelled at me claiming that I was 'sneaking up on you'," Bernie replied, using finger quotes on the last phrase. "That kind of treatment stays with a guy."
Melody shook her head. Her father knew how much she hated finger quotes. Why he insisted on using them was beyond her. "I was five at the time", she said.
"Ah," Bernie said, with a knowing grin on his face. "The angry period. ~ B.M.B. Johnson

But this is Miami, you can't come to Miami and not show any skin. You gotta show something. If you're all covered up in this heat, you're gonna make me pass out out just to look at you. It's sweaty in Miami-but the diamonds will keep me cool. ~ Lil' Kim

It feels sort of euphoric, like we're in some sort of fairytale. Like she's Tinkerbell and I'm Peter Pan. No, wait. I don't want to be Peter Pan. Maybe she can be like Cinderella and I'll be her Prince Charming. Yeah, I like that fantasy better. Cinderella's hot when she's all poor and sweaty and slaving over the stove. ~ Colleen Hoover

The Marquis de V... - whose falsetto voice and little watery eyes I have always detested - was saying to me with a wicked smile: 'Then again, the master gymnast might break his neck at any moment. What he is doing now is very dangerous, my dear, and the pleasure you take in his performance is the little frisson that danger affords you. Wouldn't it be thrilling, if his sweaty hand failed to grip the bar? The velocity acquired by his rotation about the bar would break his spine quite cleanly, and perhaps a little of the cervical matter might spurt out as far as this! It would be most sensational, and you would have a rare emotion to add to the field of your experience - for you collect emotions, don't you? What a pretty stew of terrors that man in tights stirs up in us!

'Admit that you almost wish that he will fall! Me too. Many others in the auditorium are in the same state of attention and anguish. That is the horrible instinct of a crowd confronted with a spectacle which awakens in it the ideas of lust and death. Those two agreeable companions always travel together! Take it from me that at the very same moment - see, the man is now holding on to the bar by his fingertips alone - at the very same moment, a good number of the women in these boxes are ardently lusting after that man, not so much for his beauty as for the danger he courts.'

The voice subtly changed its tone, suddenly becoming more interested. 'You have singularly pale eyes this evening, my ~ Jean Lorrain

Tooth, leaning against the doorframe, all sweaty and butch, and oh, that body would soon be naked and wet from the shower. And Luci would be out here, silently howling by the door.
"I could um… shower with my eyes closed. How's that work?" Luci knew they were now wasting more time than they could possibly save by showering together, but pushing for it was impossible to resist. Not to mention that if Tooth ever actually agreed, Luci would open his eyes, see the Holy Grail of dicks, and then get spanked for it. Perfect. Two birds with one stone. ~ K.A. Merikan

She ignored his feverish, sweaty skin, his violent trembles, and she kissed him. As he passionately held her against him, the whole world disappeared. It was just him. It had always been him. ~ Allie Burke

If I know a song of Africa, of the giraffe and the African new moon lying on her back, of the plows in the fields and the sweaty faces of the coffee pickers, does Africa know a song of me? Will the air over the plain quiver with a color that I have had on, or the children invent a game in which my name is, or the full moon throw a shadow over the gravel of the drive that was like me, or will the eagles of the Ngong Hills look out for me? ~ Karen Blixen

My two sons are the biggest pigs - always dirty, sweaty, burping and farting. ~ Judy Gold

Toward nightfall, Khrenov's temperature had risen. The thermometer was warm, alive - the column of mercury climbed high on the little red ladder. For a long time he muttered unintelligibly, kept biting his lips and gently shaking his head. Then he fell asleep. Natasha undressed by a candle's wan flame, and saw her reflection in the murky glass of the window - her pale, thin neck, the dark braid that had fallen across her clavicle. She stood like that, in motionless languor, and suddenly it seemed to her that the room, together with the couch, the table littered with cigarette stubs, the bed on which, with open mouth, a sharp-nosed, sweaty old man slept restlessly - all this started to move, and was now floating, like the deck of a ship, into the black night. ~ Vladimir Nabokov

Westerns were always my favorite things when I was little. And it always bothered me when cowboys were too clean in movies, or when they wore their guns like they had an outfit on. It always worked better when a guy looked sweaty and smelly; I hadda believe, I hadda believe that. ~ Michael Keaton

Ambo opens his eyes and snaps to awareness - looking around wildly. He tries to move his hands, but he can't; his wrists have been bound to a wooden armchair. It takes him a moment to recognize it, to remember how he got there.

Arla is standing next to him, looking withered. Skin mottled and sweaty. Her eyes are swollen, and the cloth of the hijab has unraveled slightly. She whispers something to him, and it sounds like she's asking whether he's okay, but he can't make out the words.

He tells her to repeat herself. Louder this time, child.

'I said, what are we going to do? ~ Jonathan R. Miller

Why haven't you told me the truth about you and Archer?"
"We were just friends," I said. "How many times do I have to say it?"
When he didn't say anything, I rolled my eyes. "Okay,so I liked him. I had a crush on him,and-" I wasn't sure if the heat in my face was from embarrassment or anger. "And yes, one time we kissed. But it was just the once,and about ten seconds afterward,I found out he was an Eye."
Dad nodded. "And that's it.That's the whole story."
Why oh why wasn't there a giant hole in the floor that I could plummet through, perferably to my death? "That,that's it."
"Well,that's something," Dad said, running a hand through his hair. "At some point, I want you to add that to your original statement."
We were quiet for a long time before I wiped my sweaty palms on my dress and said, "Is there anything else horrible happening that I need to know about?"
Dad gave a humorless laugh as he ushered me toward the door. "I believe that covers all the current horror. ~ Rachel Hawkins

The most common objection that I hear to walking as exercise is that it's too easy, that only sweaty, strenuous activity offers real benefits. But there is abundant evidence that regular, brisk walking is associated with better health, including lower blood pressure, better moods and improved cholesterol ratios. ~ Andrew Weil

Then maybe I'll hit on this sweaty, oversexed football player. Maybe we'll have meaningful discussions about politics and philosophy while we bump 'n grind. Ugh. Yeah, right. ~ Kody Keplinger

Dorian, C, Corp: It's my sincere belief that your potential is wasted in that sweaty little cockpit. You should be doing the Coreworld lecture circuit. Imagine it: Packed houses. Perfect hair. Screaming girlchildren. "Tonight Only. Ezra Mason: How To State The Bleeding Obvious. ~ Amie Kaufman

I can't face the idea of riding home on a busful of sweaty, smiling teeth sucking up my oxygen. ~ Laurie Halse Anderson

Anyway, it was Oscar who called me to remind me that our nephew, Lydia's son Garnett, was turning eleven years old. Fuck my life. I hated that kid. He smelled like asparagus, and he sweated way too much for a healthy child; but then Garnett, given his propensity for biting teachers and catching chipmunks in the backyard only to bury them alive, was no normal kid. He was a case study for sociopathic behavior in the making. A walking, talking, farting, sweaty, odorous, chipmunk-burying cry for help. ~ Richard J. O'Brien

And somewhere in that sweaty brown hot box of brown gay, I found myself. ~ Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha

The saxophone does not speak that language. The saxophone speaks the language of the underground, the jaded melancholy of the half-light - grimy and sexy and sweaty and hard. It is the language of orphans and bastards and whores. ~ Eleanor Catton

That's why all those records from high school sound so good. It's not that the songs were better - it's that we were listening to them with our friends, drunk for the first time on liqueurs, touching sweaty palms, staring for hours at a poster on the wall, not grossed out by carpet or dirt or crumpled, oily bedsheets. These songs and albums were the best ones because of how huge adolescence felt then, and how nostalgia recasts it now. ~ Carrie Brownstein

The woods do that to you, they always look familiar, long lost, like the face of a long-dead relative, like an old dream, like a piece of forgotten song drifting across the water, most of all like golden eternities of past childhood or past manhood and all the living and the dying and the heartbreak that went on a million years ago and the clouds as they pass overhead seem to testify by their own lonesome familiarities to this feeling. Ecstasy, even , I felt, with flashes of sudden remembrance, and feeling sweaty and drowsy I felt like sleeping and dreaming in the grass. ~ Jack Kerouac

And God, the filthy things he'd murmured in her ear. It was just as he'd promised: heavy, and dirty, and sweaty, and yes, fun. He hadn't allowed her to be self-conscious or shy. He'd guided her hand to his hard cock and said, "That right there is because you're beautiful." Softly, right against her throat, almost sweetly: "Get outta your own way and tell me what you want." She ~ Lauren Gilley

You get your competent but bored, insecure and hence stodgy teacher talking to an audience divided between engineering students, who are going to be responsible for making bridges that won't fall down or airplanes that won't suddenly plunge vertically into the ground at six hundred miles an hour, and who by definition get sweaty palms and vindictive attitudes when their teacher suddenly veers off track and begins raving about wild and completely nonintuitive phenomena; and physics students, who derive much of their self-esteem from knowing that they are smarter and morally purer than the engineering students, and who by definition don't want to hear about anything that makes no fucking sense. ~ Neal Stephenson

After the torchlight red on sweaty faces
After the frosty silence in the gardens
After the agony in stony places
The shouting and the crying
Prison and palace and reverberation
Of thunder of spring over distant mountains
He who was living is now dead
We who were living are now dying
With a little patience

Here is no water but only rock
Rock and no water and the sandy road
The road winding above among the mountains
Which are mountains of rock without water
If there were water we should stop and drink
Amongst the rock one cannot stop or think
Sweat is dry and feet are in the sand
If there were only water amongst the rock
Dead mountain mouth of carious teeth that cannot spit
Here one can neither stand nor lie nor sit
There is not even silence in the mountains
But dry sterile thunder without rain
There is not even solitude in the mountains
But red sullen faces sneer and snarl
From doors of mudcracked houses
If there were water
And no rock
If there were rock
And also water
And water
A spring
A pool among the rock
If there were the sound of water only
Not the cicada
And dry grass singing
But sound of water over a rock
Where the hermit-thrush sings in the pine trees
Drip drop drip drop drop drop drop
But there is no water
- The Waste Land (ll. 322-358) ~ T.S. Eliot

All grimy and sweaty, Alexander drew her to him, his palms on her back, and bending to her and tilting his head, whispered into her mouth, Tatiasha, I know you won't believe this, but if I'm looking at the sheets when I'm making love to you, we've got a bigger problem than what damn color they are. ~ Paullina Simons

To be fair, I don't have a lot of clothes and you know, Einstein had the same outfit, five different times because he didn't want to spend energy trying to decide what to wear every day. It's pointless. I have a shirt that I wear when I'm not on stage and then I have a sweaty shirt that is so disgusting it would blow your mind. ~ Sam Endicott

I left Kiki in the yard, and fetched my pick and brushes.
She lifted her leg and I dislodged the stone then pulled the shedding blade through her copper hair. After a while, I removed my cloak. When I finished, clumps of horse hair clung to my sweaty clothes.
You're beautiful and I need a bath, I said to her. Pasture or stall?
Stall. Nap time.
And what about your snooze before I groomed you?
Pre nap. ~ Maria V. Snyder

She was the kind of fatally pretty and nubile wraithlike figure who glides through the sweaty junior-high corridors of every nocturnal emitter's dreamscape. ~ David Foster Wallace

Our breaths mingled, our mouths found one another and his hands gripped mine tightly as we kissed. For two hours. He never once stopped holding my hands, even when they were sweaty, and I never once stopped smiling, even when he was kissing me. Awkward was good, because it was with him. He made awkward perfect.
That day was the beginning of forever.
Nobody told me the road was going to be bumpy. ~ Tammy Faith

A gathering of Democrats is more sweaty, disorderly, offhand, and rowdy than a gathering of Republicans; it is also likely to be more cheerful, imaginative, tolerant of dissent, and skillful at the game of give-and-take. A gathering of Republicans is more respectable, sober, purposeful, and businesslike than a gathering of Democrats; it is also likely to be more self-righteous, pompous, cut-and-dried, and just plain boring. ~ Clinton Rossiter

I'm all sweaty," she said again, even as her hands fisted in his hair.
"That's okay," he said silkily, his mouth brushing her temple. "We're going to get even more so. ~ Jill Shalvis

At least he took the rest of the food I brought him. A growing boy fighting his insane father to the death has to keep the calorie count up there. Fighting to the death is sweaty work. ~ Barry Lyga

For the next hour, the subject of Pandora's board game business was discarded as the group worked on the sandcastle. They paused at intervals to drink thirstily from jugs of cold water and lemonade that had been sent down from the house. Pandora threw herself into the project with enthusiasm, consulting with Justin, who had decided the castle must have a moat, square corner towers, a front gatehouse with a drawbridge, and battlement walls from which the occupants could drop scalding water or molten tar onto the advancing enemy.
Gabriel, who'd been instructed to dig the moat, stole frequent glances at Pandora, who had enough energy for ten people. Her face glowed beneath her battered straw hat, which she had managed to pry away from Ajax. She was sweaty and covered in sand, a few escaped locks of hair trailing over her neck and back. She played with the unselfconscious ease of a child, this woman of radical thoughts and ambitions. She was beautiful. Complex. Frustrating. He'd never met a woman who was so wholly and resolutely herself.
What the devil was he going to do about her? ~ Lisa Kleypas

Books aren't made in the way that babies are: they are made like pyramids, There's some long-pondered plan, and then great blocks of stone are placed one on top of the other, and it's back-breaking, sweaty, time consuming work. And all to no purpose! It just stands like that in the desert! But it towers over it prodigiously. Jackals piss at the base of it, and bourgeois clamber to the top of it, etc. Continue this comparison. ~ Gustave Flaubert

People think I'm into sports because I'm a man. But I'm not into sports. I like Gatorade, but that's about as far as it goes. By the way, you don't have to be sweaty and play basketball to enjoy Gatorade. You can just be a thirsty dude. Gatorade forgets about this demographic! ~ Mitch Hedberg

Sexcess - it's about sex in excess and success all rolled up into one sweaty ball. ~ Jarod Kintz

It required an enormous amount of energy and time just to do errands like getting groceries. She was always sweaty after she got groceries. ~ Stephanie Clifford

Nick will come home, sweaty and salty and beer-loose from a day at the ballpark, and I'll curl up in his lap, ask him about the game, ask him if his friend Jack had a good time, and he'll say, "Oh, he came down with a case of the dancing monkeys - poor Jennifer was having a 'real stressful week' and really needed him at home. ~ Gillian Flynn

Triple 6 Mafia and Mystikal in Atlanta was one of my first shows. I remember how sweaty and smashed up everybody was, and it was so punk rock. ~ Yelawolf

Marriage is a big word for all guys," Shane said. "You know that. It's kind of an allergy. We get itchy and sweaty just trying to spell it, much less do it. ~ Rachel Caine

I remember on the 'Midnight Special' seeing a video with Meat Loaf. I think it was the 'Bat Out Of Hell' video. It was like this raging huge fat guy, and he's really sexual, and he's really sweaty, and it's really kind of sexy. Like, a fat guy can get the chick. I still am a big fan of 'Bat Out Of Hell.' ~ William Earl Brown

If you've ever rubbed shoulders with insanity, he is a sweaty, foul-breathed cab driver who locks the door and takes you wherever he wants. The more you squirm to get out, the happier he seems to get. Insanity loves- no, needs-company. ~ Jackson Galaxy

She will not sit down after, when we all collapse on the mats, our sweaty limbs crisscrossing. She will not sit down, will not let the steel slip from between her shoulders. She has so much pride that, even if I'm weary of her, of her fighting ways, her gauntlet-tossing, I can't say there isn't something else that beams in me. An old ember licked to fresh fire again. Beth, the old Beth, before high school, before Ben Trammel, all the boys and self-sorrow, the divorce and the adderall and the suspensions. ~ Megan Abbott

A bemused smile crossed Cassandra's face as she saw Tom Severin kneeling on the floor with his thighs spread for balance, a steel pipe cutter in one hand. In contrast to his earlier polished elegance, he was in shirtsleeves with the cuffs rolled up over his forearms and the collar unfastened. A well-formed man, wide-shouldered and long in the bone. He was steaming in the residual heat from the range, the cropped hair at the back of his neck damp with sweat, the fine linen of his shirt clinging to a hard-muscled back.
Well. This was an eye-opener, in more ways than one. ~ Lisa Kleypas

When she got back from taking Cassie to school Fancy knew that she ought to be working on her wilderness romance. She had promised thirty thousand words to her editor by tomorrow, and she had only written eleven. Specifically:
His rhinoceros smelled like a poppadom: sweaty, salty, strange and strong.
Her editor would cut that line. ~ Jaclyn Moriarty

From school desks with inkwells and scratchy nibs on paper to sweaty finger prints on a tablet... technology progression yes... style? ~ David H. Millar

Whether your audience is in a sweaty basement club or nestled in a favourite armchair, good money has been paid, and attention has got to be grabbed if you are not to be heckled off the stage or find your novel discarded in favour of the latest volume of 'Fifty Shades of Whatever.' ~ Mark Billingham

The beer was cheap, the fiddling sharp, and the dancing sweaty. ~ Caleb Crain

A house on the park. He'd seen it a million times. And now was in it. It smelled of man sweat and spaghetti sauce and old books. Like a library where sweaty men went to cook spaghetti. ~ George Saunders

I thought we were meeting by the field house," I call out as I make my way over.
He doesn't even turn around. "Nah, I'm pretty sure I said the parking lot."
"You definitely said the field house," I argue. Why can't he ever just admit that he's wrong?
"Geez, field house, parking lot. What difference does it make?" Mason asks. "Give it a rest, why don't you."
I shoot him a glare. "Oh, hey, Mason. Remember when your hair was long and everyone thought you were a girl?"
Ryder chuckles as he releases a perfect spiral in Mason's direction. "She's got you there."
"Hey, whose side are you on, anyway?" Mason catches the ball and cradles it against his chest, then launches it toward Ben. I just stand there watching as they continue to toss it back and forth between the three of them. Haven't they had enough football for one day?
I pull out my cell to check the time. "We should probably get going."
"I guess," Ryder says with an exaggerated sigh, like I'm putting him out or something. Which is particularly annoying since he's the one who insisted on going with me.
Ben jogs up beside me, the football tucked beneath his arm. "Where are you two off to? Whoa, you're sweaty."
I fold my arms across my damp chest. "Hey, southern girls don't sweat. We glow."
Ben snorts at that. "Says who?"
"Says Ryder's mom," I say with a grin. It's one of Laura Grace's favorite sayings--one that always makes Ryder wince.
"The hardware store," Ryder ~ Kristi Cook

Oh, sweet fuck of all fucks that are downright hot, hard and sweaty. I want this man. I want this walking, fuckable man-caramel. ~ K.M. Golland

was more than nerves, that he felt like he was gasping for air when he tried to speak. He didn't understand why other people found silence so uncomfortable when it had never bothered him. But every time he was quiet for too long, he could see people start to wonder what was wrong with him. Then he'd get cold and his palms would get sweaty, and he'd know from the knot in his stomach that he'd done it again; he'd alienated someone else with his inability to talk politely about things that didn't matter. ~ R. Cooper

I had to keep my hands clenched at my sides to avoid wiping my sweaty palms on the skirts of my gown as I reached the dining room, and immediately contemplated bolting upstairs and changing into a tunic and pants. But I knew they'd already heard me, or smelled me, or used whatever heightened senses they had to detect my presence, and since fleeing would only make it worse, I found it in myself to push open the double doors.
Whatever discussion Tamlin and Lucien had been having stopped, and I tried not to look at their wide eyes as I strode to my usual place at the end of the table.
"Well, I'm late for something incredibly important," Lucien said, and before I could call him on his outright lie or beg him to stay, the fox-masked faerie vanished.
I could feel the full weight of Tamlin's undivided attention on me - on every breath and movement I took. I studied the candelabras atop the mantel beside the table. I had nothing to say that didn't sound absurd - yet for some reason, my mouth decided to start moving.
"You're so far away." I gestured to the expanse of table between us. "It's like you're in another room."
The quarters of the table vanished, leaving Tamlin not two feet away, sitting at an infinitely more intimate table. I yelped and almost tipped over in my chair. He laughed as I gaped at the small table that now stood between us. "Better?" he asked.
I ignored the metallic tang of magic as I said, "How … how did you do that? Where did it go? ~ Sarah J. Maas

There's nothing wonderful or interesting about unrequited love. I think it's shitty, just plain shitty. To love someone who doesn't return your affections might be exciting in books, but in life it's unbearably boring. I'll tell you what's exciting: sweaty, passionate nights. But sitting on the veranda outside the home of a sleeping woman who isn't dreaming about you is slow moving and just plain sad. ~ Steve Toltz

It will be great to play a short, fat sweaty loser for a change. ~ Ricky Gervais

A lot of my climbing and hiking gear is all wool because I can wear it for a week straight and it doesn't smell. And when you get hot and sweaty in a cold temperature, it stays warm. ~ Jason Clarke

He realized that the woman at his side - the one with the sweaty red face and the sweet smile - had pried open his heart, one day at a time. ~ Susan Donovan

I stood there, 220 pounds of ex-football player, ex-public defender, ex-a-lot-of-things, leaning against the faded walnut rail of the witness stand, home to a million sweaty palms. "To Speak for the Dead" (The Jake Lassiter Series) http://tinyurl.com/69eua2t ~ Paul Levine

Red remembered growing up in that house as heaven. There were enough children on Bouton Road to form two baseball teams, when they felt like it, and they spent all their free time playing out of doors - boys and girls together, little ones and big ones. Suppers were brief, pesky interruptions foisted on them by their mothers. They disappeared again till they were called in for bed, and then they came protesting, all sweaty-faced and hot with grass blades sticking to them, begging for just another half hour. "I bet I can still name every kid on the block," Red would tell his own children. But that was not so impressive, because most of those kids had stayed on in the neighborhood as grown-ups, or at least come back to it later after trying out other, lesser places. Red ~ Anne Tyler

GRUNT - "Term of affection used to denote that filthy, sweaty, dirt-encrusted, footsore, camouflage-painted, tired, sleepy beautiful little son of a bitch who has kept the wolf away from the door for over two hundred years. ~ H.G. Duncan

There's an enormous propaganda machine in this world,' Peter said, 'that tries to make people think love - real, earthy, sweaty love - is wrong. But how in the hell they expect to propagate the race that way is beyond me. ~ Jack Iams

I've gotten to that point where I'm so used to being sweaty, wearing pants, and sitting like a guy in boots. When I'm dressed up and people are touching me up and doing the whole thing, I'm less comfortable with that. ~ Maggie Q

Whoever thought of putting hot, sweaty, disgusting gym class first period should die a long, painful death. ~ Sarah Lafleur

I brought a condom," I tell her when I slide her panties down. We're both hot and sweaty, and I can't resist hr anymore.
"I did, too," she whispers against my neck. "But we might not be able to use it."
"Why not?" I expect her to tell em this was all a mistake, that she really didn't mean to get me all hot and bothered just to tell me I'm not worthy enough to take her virginity, but it's the truth.
She clears her throat. "It all d-d-depends on whether or not you're allergic to l-l-latex. ~ Simone Elkeles

Everyone danced
sweaty bodies packed tight, drunk with sound. ~ Holly Black

The real problem here is a massive elephant in the room: our own culture. Our social values, our media - so influential on impressionable young girls - that have been allowed, for millenia, to send out this powerful, alienating message about girls and sport: that sport is unfeminine, that sport makes you sweaty and muscular, that sport is swearing and violence, that sport is ugliness in a world where women's sole priority, value and focus should be beauty and becoming an object of desire. ~ Anna Kessel

No matter where you go in the world, a German will have beaten you there, clad in a sweaty black T-shirt and a smug expression. ~ Claire Dederer

When evening comes, I return home and go into my study. On the threshold I strip off my muddy, sweaty, workday clothes, and put on the robes of court and palace, and in this graver dress I enter the antique courts of the ancients and am welcomed by them, and there I taste the food that alone is mine, and for which I was born. And there I make bold to speak to them and ask the motives of their actions, and they, in their humanity, reply to me. And for the space of four hours I forget the world, remember no vexation, fear poverty no more, tremble no more at death: I pass indeed into their world. ~ Niccolo Machiavelli

When I lift my head, my eyes meet hers and in them, whether she would ever admit it or not, is desire. Lots of hot, sweaty, pin-me-up-against-the-wall desire. ~ M. Leighton

I want no blood from you
not until we're both sweaty and naked and you're screaming my name. ~ Nalini Singh

I pushed a few sweaty strands of hair out of his face. Rowan reached up and squeezed my hand.
In a weakened tone, he said " Can't keep your hands off me, can you?"
Marcus laughed, "Some things never change."
I rolled my eyes, "You're incorrigible! "
Rowan smirked, "And, sexy. Don't forget, sexy. ~ Stacey O'Neale

As a piece of travel literature alone, 'The Ends of the Earth' succeeds in providing a tangible sense of the sweaty, smelly reality of many exotic points on the map, with glimpses of their cruelty but also, occasionally, of beauty and human kindness. As a piece of analysis, it is deeply thought-provoking. ~ Francis Fukuyama

I waited in vain for someone like me to stand up and say that the only thing those of us who don't believe in god have to believe is in other people and that New York City is the best place there ever was for a godless person to practice her moral code. I think it has to do with the crowded sidewalks and subways. Walking to and from the hardware store requires the push and pull of selfishness and selflessness, taking turns between getting out of someone's way and them getting out of yours, waiting for a dog to move, helping a stroller up steps, protecting the eyes from runaway umbrellas. Walking in New York is a battle of the wills, a balance of aggression and kindness. I'm not saying it's always easy. The occasional "Watch where you're going, bitch" can, I admit, put a crimp in one's day. But I believe all that choreography has made me a better person. The other day, in the subway at 5:30, I was crammed into my sweaty, crabby fellow citizens, and I kept whispering under my breath "we the people, we the people" over and over again, reminding myself we're all in this together and they had as much right - exactly as much right - as I to be in the muggy underground on their way to wherever they were on their way to. ~ Sarah Vowell