Tentative Quotes

My lord?"
Nick turned at the tentative, feminine voice, to find two young women standing nearby, watching him eagerly. Nick spoke, wary.
"Yes? "
"We - " one of them began to speak, then stopped, uncertain. The other nudged her toward him.
"Yes?"
"We are fans."
Nick blinked. "Of?"
"Of yours."
"Of mine."
"Indeed!" The second girl smiled broadly and stepped closer, holding out what looked suspiciously like -
Nick swore under his breath.
"Would you be willing to autograph our magazine? "
Nick held up a hand. "I would, girls, but you've got the wrong brother." He pointed to Gabriel. "That is Lord Nicholas."
Rock snorted as the two shifted their attention to the Marquess of Ralston, a dazzlingly handsome copy of their prey, and tittered their excitement.
Gabriel instantly eased into his role, turning a brilliant smile on the girls. "I would be happy to autograph your magazine." He took the journal and the pen they proffered and said, "You know, I must confess, this is the first time I've ever drawn the attention of ladies when in the company of my brother. Ralston has always been considered the more handsome of us."
"No!" the girls protested.
Nick rolled his eyes.
"Indeed. Ask anyone. They'll tell you it's the marquess who is the best specimen. Surely you've heard that." He looked up at them with a winning smile. "You can admit it, girls. My feelings shan't be hurt."
Gabriel h ~ Sarah MacLean

If she answered, he could not hear it, and he certainly couldn't see her, so he went. First he crawled the rocks one by one, one by one, till his hands touched shore and the nursing sound of the sea was behind him. He felt around, crawled off and then stood up. Breathing heavily with his mouth open he took a few tentative steps. The pebbles made him stumble and so did the roots of trees. He threw out his hands to guide and steady his going. By and by he walked steadier, now steadier. The mist lifted and the trees stepped back a bit as if to make the way easier for a certain kind of man. Then he ran. Lickety-split. Lickety-split. Looking neither to the left nor to the right. Lickety-split. Lickety-split. Lickety-lickety-lickety-split. ~ Toni Morrison

The question of the acceptance of theories should, I propose, be demoted to the status of a minor problem. For science may be regarded as a growing system of problems, rather than as a system of beliefs. And for a system of problems, the tentative acceptance of a theory or a conjecture means hardly more than that it is considered worthy of further criticism. ~ Karl R. Popper

A half-hearted spirit has no power. Tentative efforts lead to tentative outcomes. Average people enter into their endeavors headlong and without care. ~ Epictetus

Science goes from question to question; big questions, and little, tentative answers. The questions as they age grow ever broader, the answers are seen to be more limited. ~ George Wald

At This Moment Of Time

Some who are uncertain compel me. They fear
The Ace of Spades. They fear
Loves offered suddenly, turning from the mantelpiece,
Sweet with decision. And they distrust
The fireworks by the lakeside, first the spuft,
Then the colored lights, rising.
Tentative, hesitant, doubtful, they consume
Greedily Caesar at the prow returning,
Locked in the stone of his act and office.
While the brass band brightly bursts over the water
They stand in the crowd lining the shore
Aware of the water beneath Him. They know it. Their eyes
Are haunted by water

Disturb me, compel me. It is not true
That "no man is happy," but that is not
The sense which guides you. If we are
Unfinished (we are, unless hope is a bad dream),
You are exact. You tug my sleeve
Before I speak, with a shadow's friendship,
And I remember that we who move
Are moved by clouds that darken midnight ~ Delmore Schwartz

See, they return; ah, see the tentative Movements, and the slow feet, The trouble in the pace and the uncertain Wavering! See, they return, one, and by one, With fear, as half-awakened; As if the snow should hesitate And murmur in the wind, and half turn back; ~ Ezra Pound

Never answer a why question! You will suddenly discover that the discussion has changed to a critique and defense of your reasons, and your original statement has suddenly changed to a tentative proposition that you will be allowed to keep only if your reasons are good enough. ... The purpose of a why question is never to understand your reasoning, it is to elicit words that can be twisted. If you don't give them, there'll be nothing to twist. Remember, the answer to a why question is an explanation, and explaining always makes angry situations worse. ~ Albert J. Bernstein

On the hearth, in front of a back-brand to give substance, blazed a fire of thorns, that crackled 'like the laughter of the fool.'

Nineteen persons were gathered here. Of these, five women, wearing gowns of various bright hues, sat in chairs along the wall; girls shy and not shy filled the window-bench; four men, including Charley Jake the hedge-carpenter, Elijah New the parish-clerk, and John Pitcher, a neighboring dairyman, the shepherd's father-in-law, lolled in the settle; a young man and maid, who were blushing over tentative pourparlers on a life companionship, sat beneath the corner-cupboard; and an elderly engaged man of fifty or upward moved restlessly about from spots where his betrothed was not to the spot where she was. Enjoyment was pretty general, and so much the more prevailed in being unhampered by conventional restrictions. Absolute confidence in each other's good opinion begat perfect ease, while the finishing stroke of manner, amounting to a truly princely serenity, was lent to the majority by the absence of any expression or trait denoting that they wished to get on in the world, enlarge their minds, or do any eclipsing thing whatever - which nowadays so generally nips the bloom and bonhomie of all except the two extremes of the social scale.

("The Three Strangers") ~ Thomas Hardy

Wobbly as I was, I felt ready for anything-in a tentative, baby-steps kind of way. ~ Alyssa Goodnight

I can't take the chance that she'll leave, and I feel that this moment is tentative, like a wild bird has just landed on my shoulder. ~ J. Lincoln Fenn

unreasonable.' She felt like saying it was barking mad but restrained herself. 'Aahh, not quite ready yet. Not quite evolved enough. But you're getting there, Judith. You have taken the first tentative steps. The fact that you came to me proves that. You'll be back.' Sheeva jumped up from the ~ Patricia Scanlan

Now you've done it." His tone was quietly playful.
I couldn't help it.I looked up at him questioningly.
"You've added a third word to your repitoire. Hi,thanks,and now yes." His lips turned up at the corners,and the heat rushed to my face. He noticed. "At least that much hasn't changed."
I turned back to my notebook,my hands trembling.
He leaned toward me. "Now that we have our first conversation out of the way, do you want to tell me where you've been?" From the way he spoke I knew his smile was gone.
I could feel little beads of sweat form on my forehead.
"You left me.Without a word," he said. He sounded tentative, as if he were trying to keep his voice even. I took in a deep breath,but I couldn't figure out what he was feeling. There wasn't one singular emotion that was stronger than the others. "Don't you have anything to say to me?"
He waited. My heart felt like it would burst through my chest into a million little pieces,and I could see this wasn't going to work.
I started to close my book.
"Don't-" he blurted, and I froze. "Don't go.You don't have to talk to me.I'm the one who should go." His voice sounded achingly sad. I could hear him packing his bag.
Say something.Say something. "Um..."
Jack paused, as if further movement might stop my words.
He was the reason I came back.I couldn't scare him off. As hard as it would be to talk to him,it would be much harder to watch him walk out that door. "No," I said. I ~ Brodi Ashton

Risk assessment is the new religion, the Big Babies'equivalent of the apotropaic ritual, the haruspices, the chicken entrails and the goat on the altar. Where our ancestors looked up at the stars, and spoke with the gods, and went off upon the great and dangerous adventures which would return them to their communities as adults, we, adorned not with swords and quivers but with all the tentative apparatus of our intelligence and our carefulness, look upwards and see, not gods, but improperly secured overhead lighting, untrimmed branches, loose cables, inadequately fastened false ceiling partitions; and we decide not, after all, to go. It is, after all, too dangerous. ~ Michael Bywater

The transitional nature of the 1920's can also be discerned in what may be labeled a new kind of 'dvoeverie' (or dual faith), a syncretistic belief that combined peasant ways and new Communist practices in tentative and uneasy assimilation. For example, there were reports of portraits of Lenin or Kalinin turning up in icon corners and of habit-ridden old peasants crossing themselves in front of these holy images. ~ Lynne Viola

Atheism, I began to realize, rested on a less-than-satisfactory evidential basis. The arguments that had once seemed bold, decisive, and conclusive increasingly turned out to be circular, tentative, and uncertain. ~ Alister E. McGrath

While historians may go on attempting grand, sweeping and defining narratives, they work in a time when readers know that another narrative always lies in wait, and that the more intelligent an historian is, the more tentative and self-scrutinizing the tone. ~ Colm Toibin

I had kissed my share of men, particularly during the war years, when flirtation and instant romance were the light-minded companions of death and uncertainty. Jamie, thought, was something different. His extreme gentleness was in no way tentative; rather it was a promise of power known and held in leash; a challenge and a provocation the more remarkable for its lack of demand. I am yours, it said. And if you will have me, then ... ~ Diana Gabaldon

Love Is a curious thing. Sometimes it barrels into you, leaves you breathless. Other times, it comes in- to your life, a tentative beam of morning sun sneaking through the blinds, and you think this light isn't possible. The shutters are drawn. Night should linger on. I don't feel like waking. Yet the room comes slowly lit. Sleep slithers away, and at last you can no longer deny the dawning. ~ Ellen Hopkins

I don't like people being cautious and tentative and choosing their words carefully around me because I'm a dwarf. ~ Peter Dinklage

In the end, writing is not a full step toward self-healing, just a tiny, very tentative move in that direction. ~ Haruki Murakami

As he observed her in musing silence, a novel thought occurred to him. It slipped through his mind so subtly that it seemed to mingle like smoke with his physical perceptions, with the way the dim light through the stained-glass window fell across her hair in little iridescent rainbows, and the scent of old tobacco and dust lingered in the room. He wondered - absurdly - if this was what she had come for - simply to sit in the stillness and be alive and share it with him.
Something inside, something tiny he hadn't even known was there, seemed to unfold, to spread tentative petals open like a desert flower sensing rain.
She turned and looked up at him, her great unblinking eyes full of forest wisdom. He thought foolishly: Let me stay here. I need this. ~ Laura Kinsale

All scholarship, like all science, is an ongoing, open-ended discussion in which all conclusions are tentative forever, the principal value and charm of the game being the discovery of the totally unexpected. ~ Hugh Nibley

She clung to the ropes. "I should go back. This was a stupid idea."

"Wait until you see Savannah from up here." He clasped her other wrist, too. "Let go, Skye. I won't let you fall."

She looked up into his eyes. "Putting my life in your hands is more trust than I intended on a first date."

His lips twitched into a tentative smile. "Didn't know we were on a date. ~ Lisa Kessler

Peter smiled as Concheetah sashayed across the ballroom floor
Concheetah sashayed towards him, wriggling her hips, full lips in a pout, followed obediently by the tentative, Tapping Ted dressed in tight shorts and singlet. Tapping? Tapping because he always wore conspicuous, tap-dancing shoes in the club.
Was Ted going to rip up the stage as a mincing Irish dancer or maybe perform a Gene Kelly routine or the Swan Lake ballet in taps? It was terrible to imagine. Peter bit his lip at that thought, hoping he wouldn't burst into howls of laughter.
He had noted after coming to several shows, that Ted usually stood at the side of the stage ready with a drink of champagne and an encouraging word and a dry towel to mop Her Highness's face. And he always cried during the
show's finale, Abba's Dancing Queen. Poor Tapping Ted. ~ T.W. Lawless

Artists who have produced experimental innovations have been motivated by aesthetic criteria: they have aimed at presenting visual perceptions. Their goals are imprecise, so their procedure is tentative and incremental. ~ David Galenson

I kind of don't believe in actors directing themselves. Obviously some people have done it well, but I don't see how I could. It's funny that you ask, because I've just been thinking that maybe I'd rather direct The Bell Jar than act in it. It's a huge leap to go from a short to a feature, so I'm tentative - I'm like, Well, that's just so triple-type-A personality of you. ~ Julia Stiles

[[diving into the wreck]]

First having read the book of myths,
and loaded the camera,
and checked the edge of the knife-blade
[...]
And now: it is easy to forget
what I came for
among so many who have always
lived here...
[...]
the thing I came for:
the wreck and not the story of the wreck
the thing itself and not the myth
the drowned face always staring
toward the sun
the evidence of damage
worn by salt and away into this threadbare beauty
the ribs of the disaster
curving their assertion
among the tentative haunters.
[...]
We are, I am, you are
by cowardice or courage
the one who find our way
back to this scene
carrying a knife, a camera
a book of myths
in which
our names do not appear. ~ Adrienne Rich

It's almost funny: you think you matter to someone. They're the center of your universe, the sun you revolve around. You'd give anything for their details. You inch closer, closer, with tentative steps. You can walk as far as you want, but it won't matter. You are not even on their map. ~ Danya Kukafka (author)

The patter of tentative footfalls reached my ears. I flipped on my side to face the door and saw Ansel wander by. I rolled onto my back, rubbing sleep from my eyes. I'd crashed on my bed as soons as I'd gotten back from school, collapsing under the weight of the day.
The floorboards squeaked as Ansel passed by my door again. I caught his nervous glance in my direction before he hurried down the hall.
'Ansel, I'm not the sun; stop orbiting and get in here,' I called. ~ Andrea Cremer

Bloody North," said Shev as she picked her way towards it and had a tentative drag at the ropes. "Even their bridges are shit."
"Their men are good," said Javre, clattering out with no fear whatsoever. "Far from subtle, but enthusiastic."
"Great," said Shev as she edged after, exchanging a mutually suspicious glance with a crow perched atop one of the posts. "Men. The one thing that interests me not at all."
"You should try them."
"I did. Once. Bloody useless. Like trying to have a conversation with someone who doesn't even speak your language, let alone understand the topic."
"Some are certainly more horizontally fluent than others."
"No. Just no. The hairiness, and the lumpiness, and the great big fumbling fingers and ... balls. I mean, balls. What's that about? That is one singularly unattractive piece of anatomy. That is just ... that is bad design, is what that is. ~ Joe Abercrombie

This feeling, this tentative flutter in her belly - this was hers. This was sunlight on her face. It was the warmth she'd dreamed of. It was a curl of honest attraction, the first she'd experienced in years. ~ Courtney Milan

I shake myself. What is wrong with me? I've seen pretty men before, I've been attracted to men before, and yet this one, this man who I hardly know at all, has me all tongue-tied.

Reid takes a few tentative steps towards the elevator, leading me out the door and to the dark street below. The streetlights are dull behind the office building and the roads are almost completely absent of cars. The Michigan air is a bit thick tonight, the humidity sticking to my skin and making my already curled hair poof out even farther away from my head. I run a hand through it and Reid notices. "It's fine."

I blush a little and shrug my shoulders. I wonder if that means he thinks my hair looks fine or if he likes it the way it is… Why do men have to be so vague?

…Why do I care? ~ Allana Kephart

I mean to say, really, I am near to developing a neurosis - is there anyone around who doesn't want to study or kill me?"
Floote raised a tentative hand.
"Ah, yes, thank you, Floote."
"There is also Mrs Tunstell, madam," he offered hopefully, is if Ivy were some kind of consolation prize.
"I notice you don't mention my fair-weather husband."
"I suspect, at this moment, madam, he probably wants to kill you."
Alexia couldn't help smiling. "Good point. ~ Gail Carriger

The fact that the biosphere responds unpredictably to our actions is not an argument for inaction. It is, however, a powerful argument for caution, and for adopting a tentative attitude toward all we believe, and all we do. Unfortunately, our species has demonstrated a striking lack of caution in the past. It is hard to imagine that we will behave differently in the future.
We think we know what we are doing. We have always thought so. We never seem to acknowledge that we have been wrong in the past, and so might be wrong in the future. Instead, each generation writes off earlier errors as the result of bad thinking by less able minds
and then confidently embarks on fresh errors of its own.
We are one of only three species on our planet that can claim to be self-aware, yet self-delusion may be a more significant characteristic of our kind. ~ Michael Crichton

In every one of these cases, the police ignored the suspect's tentative and mealymouthed expressions of interest in a lawyer, persisted in their questioning, and successfully managed to get him to make some damaging statements (not necessarily a confession) that could be used to help convict him, and the courts concluded that such statements were admissible against the suspect because he had not made a clear and unequivocal request for a lawyer. ~ James Duane

I think we came out the last couple of game and have been able to get it going. The first couple we were tentative a little bit, that energy, maybe excite. I saw in the last couple of games we've been able to channel that and use it in a positive way to go, be aggressive, physical and skate. When we're skating and physical we're at our best and put a lot of pressure on the other team that way. ~ Jarome Iginla

It wasn't sweet and tentative, it was pure carnal frustration spiked with incomprehensible lust and rolled into a giant ball of please-god-let-me-live-in-this-man's-mouth-for-the-foreseeable-future. ~ Alice Clayton

As surely as spring followed winter, new life followed death, fighting for its place on the earth. Let man do his worst, yet still the tentative shoots of faith and hope sprouted the ruins of shattered lives and broken dreams. Resurrection was real, after all. ~ J.M. Hochstetler

The people who hitched to Katmandu (and are doubtlessly still doing so, despite the usual reports of official prohibitions) seem to me to be of this sort, displaced persons, aimless couples without papers. They are ill-suited to play the role which they are conventionally given; that of proletarian playboys, outriders of a modern sub-culture, who intend, mainly through will-power, to end injustice and rule the world. For the most part they have chosen to be the sole inhabitants of private worlds, and their aspirations will not be found in the bazaars of the international youth movement, or of the global underground or any other such tentative organizations. ~ Patrick Marnham

I am not sure how we came to believe that we know more about what our people need than they do. A core, culturally supported assumption about their brokenness may have something to do with it, and so might our left-dominant culture and training that makes it more challenging to be present to anyone's implicit experience. Many it is equally about our inability to trust our own inner wisdom to guide us because no-one helped us listen when we were young. Without this trust, we may get frightened for our people and the process, and such feelings bring on the need to assert control ...

experiment with the pause, remembering that our rupture and repair are optimal, trust will grow as we and our 'patients' stumble together into the tentative, fluid process of attunement with one another that supports the awakening of the inherent wisdom and health. ~ Bonnie Badenoch

After all, the sanitation and the agriculture of today are still in the rudimentary stage. The science of our time has attacked but a little department of the field of human disease, but even so, it spreads its operations very steadily and persistently. Our agriculture and horticulture destroy a weed just here and there and cultivate perhaps a score or so of wholesome plants, leaving the greater number to fight out a balance as they can. We improve our favourite plants and animals--and how few they are--gradually by selective breeding; now a new and better peach, now a seedless grape, now a sweeter and larger flower, now a more convenient breed of cattle. We improve them gradually, because our ideals are vague and tentative, and our knowledge is very limited; because Nature, too, is shy and slow in our clumsy hands. Some day all this will be better organized, and still better. That is the drift of the current in spite of the eddies. ~ H.G. Wells

The rules or 'laws' of poetry are only tentative devices, an approximate scheme. There is no Sinaitic recipe for poetry, for the individual poem is the norm. ~ Louis MacNeice

Are you all right?" I whisper uncertainly.

"Fine." He shakes his head once, and then the tension leaves his body. "I'm fine. Don't finish your sentence yet. It's going to lead to me slaughtering things."

"You like slaughtering things."

"Compared to this? No." He touches me again, his fingers grazing my arm. Tentative, hesitant. When I tell him he's usually the practical one, he replies, "It must be your influence. I'm actually about to make several suggestions, and all of them are impractical."

I smile. "Ooh, several suggestions, is it? My, my. Impractical Kiaran MacKay is . . . dare I say it? Adorable."

Kiaran looks at me in disgust. "I am not."

"You are and you don't even know it. Adorable."

"Adorable is something we call foolish humans right before we kill them."

"Adorable is what we call adult men who love to cuddle and swear on their lives that they don't." Kiaran makes a sound in his throat. "You can growl at me all you want. I know your weaknesses, MacKay. Cuddling. Neck kisses. That ticklish spot just above your - "

I laugh as he grabs me around the waist and pulls me against him. He kisses me fiercely enough to make my toes curl. Then he pulls back with the smug expression of someone who has had thousands of years to perfect seduction and knows exactly how to use it against me. ~ Elizabeth May

Later I will systemize my impossible subject, but for the moment I want to enjoy a tentative movement between its different chambers. I am not certain which are important and which are extraneous. Nor am I certain whether this topic is one that I have the strength to pursue. ~ Wayne Koestenbaum

The cheerful trumpet strains of Purcell's "Prince of Denmark March" sang out as Prince Charles, flanked by Princes Andrew and Edward, strode confidently up the aisle, smiling and nodding to his friends in the congregation. He seemed very much at ease as he took his place to await his bride.
Then . . . we heard the trumpet fanfare that heralded Diana's entrance. We could not see her arrival from our seats to the side. Very clearly, though, we could hear the murmurs and gasps of approval inside the church along with the cheers and applause outside, as the entire world first glimpsed the bride in her fairy-tale dress.
Diana looked an absolute vision in her cloud of tulle, taffeta, and lace, with the Spencer diamond tiara sparkling above her veil. Lovely, innocent, and demure, she more than met her subjects' expectations that glorious morning.
Holding her father's arm, Diana progressed slowly and beautifully up the aisle to the rustle of silk and the scrutiny of the congregation. I recognized the processional march as Jeremiah Clarke's "Trumpet Voluntary" from my own wedding. She appeared outwardly composed, almost deadly calm, with an endearing tentative quality to her smile. I felt certain she was trembling inside. I was quaking in sympathy for her.
It may have been simply the effect of the artificial light, but I thought Diana looked rather pale and tense under her veil. Even Pat noticed. He turned to me and whispered, "She looks as nervous as you did, almo ~ Mary Robertson

You simply can't be tentative in a startup. You have to go for it at every chance you get. And if the leader of the organization is anxious, his or her fear pervades the organization. Everything comes from the top in a company. So if you are starting a company or building one, face your fears and move past them. It's critically important to your company. ~ Fred Wilson

Science advances through tentative answers to a series of more and more subtle questions which reach deeper and deeper into the essence of natural phenomena. ~ Louis Pasteur

She closed the distance between them and gave him a tentative hug. He was liberally cologned, with a scent that incited bewildering memories. She circled him, not knowing why. She had only met him a few weeks back, yet tonight, something about him triggered old memories, of a time, a person.
Maybe not.
What she did know, he lacked that special ingredient that moved her. Dull as ditch water. He was sufficiently polite, but that was about all she could say. –Michael Benzehabe, from the novel Unassimilated ~ Michael Ben Zehabe

A steady exposure to distant human need that is beyond our personal response can gradually inoculate us against particular action ... Isolation from local need, and overexposure to overwhelming but distant need, make our responses to strangers uncertain and tentative at best.
We need to find or create contemporary equivalents of the city gate, community rituals, and small group meetings in which we can build preliminary relations with strangers. ~ Christine Pohl

My soul spoke to me in a whisper, urgently and alarmingly: 'Words, words, do not make too many words. Be silent and listen: have you recognized your madness, and do you admit it? Have you noticed that all your foundations are all completely mired in madness?' "11 (2) Jung's soul: "There are hellish webs of words, only words . . . Be tentative with words, value them . . . for you are the first who gets snared in them. For words have meanings. With words you pull up the underworld. Word, the paltriest and the mightiest. In words the emptiness and the fullness flow together. Hence the word is an image of the God. ~ C. G. Jung

Summer explodes into Portland. In early June the heat was there but not the color
the green were still pale and tentative, the morning had a biting coolness
but by the last week of school everything is Technicolor and splash, outrageous blue skies and purple thunderstorms and ink-black night skies and red flowers as brights as spots of blood. ~ Lauren Oliver

This must be love, she murmured, in between sips of water.
What's that? He sat behind her, cradling her in his arms.
You held my hair, Professor. You must love me.
He reached a tentative hand to her lower abdomen. I seem to recall you looking after me once, when I was sick. And that was before you loved me.
I always loved you, Gabriel.
Thank you. He kissed her forehead. We made this little one together. You aren't going to scare me off with bodily fluids.
I'll remember that when my water breaks. ~ Sylvain Reynard

He smoothed his fingers along her jawline and lifted her chin, kissing her gently, testing.
Lindsey went light-headed with the rush of sensation, the touch of his lips leaving her longing for more. Clutching his shirt in her fingers - napkin and all - she pulled him closer, melting into his kiss. Carden took it from tentative to tender, then parted her lips with the velvety sweep of his tongue. She matched his languid rhythm, hypnotized. He was all chocolate and caramel, creamy cool and sweet.
'Sinfully delicious'.
No doubt he was 31 flavors of trouble, but resisting him seemed impossible. ~ Tracy March

Yes, it struck her now that this whole business of the bull was like a life; the important birth, the fair chance, the tentative, then assured, then half-dispairing circulations of the ring, an obstacle negotiated - a feat improperly recognized - boredom, resignation, collapse: then another, more convulsive birth, a new start; the circumspect endeavours to obtain one's bearings in a world now frankly hostile, the apparent but deceptive encouragement of one's judges, half of whom were asleep, the swervings into the beginnings of disaster because of that same negligible obstacle one had surely taken before at a stride, the final enmeshment in the toils of enemies one was never quite certain weren't friends more clumsy than actively ill-disposed, followed by disaster, capitulation, disintegration. ~ Malcolm Lowry

The window glows. The slow sandy light of dawn permeates the room. Everything transient and aching; everything tentative. To be here, in this room, high in this house, out of the cellar, with her: it is like medicine. ~ Anthony Doerr

Came farther into the room, hating the tentative, almost timid feeling inside her, distrusting it because she had never felt tentative or timid around Eddie before. She felt anger as well, although that was still nascent. What right did he have to make her feel that way, after all she had done for him, after all she had sacrificed for him? ~ Stephen King

The Warrior Princess Submissive herself may be uncertain of her own submissive nature, so it is entirely understandable that the Dominant seeking to woo her might be somewhat tentative, himself. If the Dominant has even the tiniest iota of doubt about his own dominance or his D/s relationship skills, he is doomed. He will be eaten alive, and not in a good way. ~ Michael Makai

Truthfulness, honor, is not something which springs ablaze of itself; it has to be created between people. This is true in political situations. The quality and depth of the politics evolving from a group depends in large part on their understanding of honor. Much of what is narrowly termed "politics" seems to rest on a longing for certainty even at the cost of honesty, for an analysis which, once given, need not be re-examined ... It isn't that to have an honorable relationship with you, I have to understand everything, or tell you everything at once, or that I can know, beforehand, everything I need to tell you. It means that most of the time I am eager, longing for the possibility of telling you. That these possibilities may seem frightening, but not destructive to me. That I feel strong enough to hear your tentative and groping words. That we both know we are trying, all the time, to extend the possibilities of truth between us. ~ Adrienne Rich

A biographer has to decide between slowing to a halt in a bog of conflicting possibilities or striding boldly across by a causeway of conjecture. I choose the second course and, without stepping aside to discuss all the alternatives, tell the story as I see it. Paul's next eighteen months unfolded somewhat as follows, though the tone of assurance in my narrative must not disguise that some of its conclusions are tentative and disputable. The ~ John Charles Pollock

A swamp is where Gators live. We feel comfortable there, but we hope our opponents feel tentative. A swamp is hot and sticky and can be dangerous. Only Gators get out alive. ~ Steve Spurrier

Rachel had a feeling there might have been a story about the procurement of the macarons, but she didn't really listen when Lauren was speaking about anything that didn't involve Jacob. She selected a red one and took a tentative bite. "Oh, God," she moaned a moment later, and thought, for the first time in she didn't know how long, of sex. She took a bigger bite. "Mother Mary." She laughed out loud. No wonder people lined up for them. It was exquisite; the raspberry flavor of the creamy center was like the barest touch of fingertips on her skin, the meringue light and tender, like eating a cloud. ~ Liane Moriarty

Louisa Carrington, come here." Her head came up at the imperious note in his voice. "Allow me to rephrase that: Dearest Wife, would you let me hold you?" He held out his arms, willing her to accept his embrace. Her first steps were tentative, but he held her gaze and waited until she was bundled against his chest. "I want to shout at you, Joseph. I am very like my father in this." "Go ahead and shout. I think better when I'm holding you. Perhaps you think better when you shout." She ~ Grace Burrowes

The advice that I have valued in my own life has never turned on fixed maxims or canned metaphors. More crucially, lists of precepts don't work like targeted advice because lists contain inherently constraining messages. They seem to say that complex matters are knowable, that a given process leads to foreseeable results. It implies a thin and predictable world, whereas the sort of advice that has mattered to me bespeaks a quite tentative optimism, the optimism of the quest whose outcome is finally unknowable. ~ Peter D. Kramer

The process of tracing regularity in any complicated, and at first sight confused, set of appearances, is necessarily tentative; we begin by making any supposition, even a false one, to see what consequences will follow from it ; and by observing how these differ from the real phenomena, we learn what corrections to make in our assumption. ~ John Stuart Mill

I'm much better at working out ideas in action than I am in theorizing about it and then transferring my thinking to action. I don't work that way. I work with tentative ideas and I experiment and then with that experimentation in action, I finally come to the conclusions about what I think is the right way to do it. ~ Myles Horton

REFUSAL, n. Denial of something desired; Refusals are graded in a descending scale of finality thus: the refusal absolute, the refusal condition, the refusal tentative and the refusal feminine. The last is called by some casuists the refusal assentive. ~ Ambrose Bierce

I remember to this day how easily I could grasp what he called his tentative ideas when he talked about the architectural style of the capitalist era, a subject which he said had fascinated him since his own student days, speaking in particular of the compulsive sense of order and the tendency towards monumentalism evident in law courts and penal institutions, railway stations and stock exchanges, opera houses and lunatic asylums, and the dwelling built to rectangular grid patterns for the labor force. ~ W.G. Sebald

It's like my throat's caving in on itself. But I have to channel my inner New Yorker - cool and nonchalant. I shoot him a tentative grin. Deep Breath. "That's a big package."
And... shit.
The words tumblr out. "I don't mean package. Just. Your box. Is big." I hold my hands apart to demonstrate. Because apparently that's the way to prove it's not an innuendo. By spreading my hands out dick-measuringly.
Box Boy furrows his brow.
"Sorry. I don't... I swear I don't usually comment on the size of other guys' boxes."
He meets my eyes and smiles, just a little. "Nice tie," he says. ~ Becky Albertalli

There was something stunned in the faces of the children, blinking and tentative. The slow, dark, dull submarine of the lives in which they were the human cargo had abruptly surfaced. Their blood was filled with a kind of crippling nitrogen of wonder. ~ Michael Chabon

I do not know what I am saying, puppy. Change frightens me. My anxiety and depression… these things are easier to control when I feel safe and secure. But I like having you around. I hope you decide to move in with us, even though I am crazy."
Hans laughed and gave him an affectionate smile. "I don't think your therapist would like you talking like that."
"No. Thomas does not like it either."
"I don't think I'm going anywhere," Hans said. "We can talk about it tomorrow."
"Good." Boris smiled, let go of his hand, and stood. "Oh, yes. Thomas tells me he kisses you now. This is good. I have no problem with it, so do not feel you have to make sure I am out of the room or anything stupid like that."
"You can kiss me too, if you want."
"I was hoping you would say that," Boris said, grinning. "I do want. But I have been sleeping all day, and I have really bad breath. May I kiss you tomorrow?"
"You may." Hans had already figured out Boris had bad breath. He might have been willing to overlook it, but considering how tentative things were between them, it was probably better to wait.
"I am looking forward to it. Goodnight, puppy." Boris slipped from the room but stopped halfway out the door.
Hans heard Thomas's voice, though it was too quiet for him to make out what he was saying. Boris said something in response, and this time Hans could tell it was in Russian. ~ Jamie Fessenden

Phoebe Kitzke?"
The man had stopped in front of her. He had a deep, beautiful voice that made her thigh muscles quiver. This close she could see the multiple shades of deep blue that made up his eyes. He didn't smile. On the whole she would say he looked about as far from happy as it was possible to be while still breathing.
"I'm Phoebe," she said, afraid she sounded as tentative as she felt. Why hadn't Maya warned her? Saying Zane was good-looking was like saying summer in the desert was warm.
"Zane."
He held out his hand. She wasn't sure if he wanted to shake or take her luggage. She erred on the side of good manners and found her fingers engulfed in his.
The instant heat didn't surprise her, nor did the melting sensation. Everything else was going wrong in her life--it made sense for her body to betray her, too.
She mentally jerked her attention away from her traitorous thighs and noticed that he had a really big hand. Phoebe tried not to think about those old wives' tales. She tried not to think about anything except the fact that she was going to kill Maya the next time she saw her.
"Nice to meet you," she said when he'd released her. "Maya says the ranch is some distance from the airport, and I really appreciate you coming all this way to collect me."
His only response was to pick up her luggage. He didn't bother with the wheels, instead carrying the bags out as if they weighed as much as a milk carton. Uh-huh. She'd nearly thrown ~ Susan Mallery

There was the goal of all those con men of library and classroom, who sold their revelations as reason, their "instincts" as science, their cravings as knowledge, the goal of all the savages of the non-objective, the non-absolute, the relative, the tentative, the probable - the savages who, seeing a farmer gather a harvest, can consider it only as a mystic phenomenon unbound by the law of causality and created by the farmers' omnipotent whim, who then proceed to seize the farmer, to chain him, to deprive him of tools, of seeds, of water, of soil, to push him out on a barren rock and to command: "Now grow a harvest and feed us! ~ Ayn Rand

In recent years, as personal memories have faded, another perspective is beginning to make a tentative appearance in China. This view acknowledges the colossal wrongs committed during the Cultural Revolution, but it begins to inquire whether perhaps Mao raised an important question, even if his answer to it proved disastrous. The problem Mao is said to have identified is the relationship of the modern state - especially the Communist state - to the people it governs. In largely agricultural - and even incipient industrial - societies, governance concerns issues within the capacity of the general public to understand. Of course, in aristocratic societies, the relevant public is limited. But whatever the formal legitimacy, some tacit consensus by those who are to carry out directives is needed - unless governance is to be entirely by imposition, which is usually unsustainable over a historic period. ~ Henry Kissinger

There's a dream I keep having," Sheridan whispered into the telephone. "The dream has always been the same - until tonight."

"And what happened tonight?" asked Lil' John.

Sheridan hesitated, his words stumbling out in tentative phrases: "The man in my dream . . . he spoke to me for the first time . . . he told me of a sacred gift that had been lost . . . a gift that could save the world."

"Your dream," John urged gently. "Is the gods conspiring to give you freedom, just like the elders sang that night in the Sundance ceremony:"
When worlds collide
There sounds a tolling
A call to rise
And seize the moment
The gods conspire
To give us freedom
When worlds collide
The journey has begun
Sheridan pulled at the collar of his t-shirt, Lil' John's words suffocating him. Pushing back from the precipice of dread, Sheridan strained to speak, his husky words weak and staggering: "What are you saying?"

"Your search for the sacred gift has already begun . . . ~ Phillip R. White

She was perhaps too young to realize that what she assumed was her love for [him] was actually a tentative, timorous, acceptance of herself. ~ Arundhati Roy

There are, broadly speaking, two types of drinkers. There is the man whom we all know, stupid, unimaginative, whose brain is bitten numbly by numb maggots; who walks generously with wide-spread, tentative legs, falls frequently in the gutter, and who sees, in the extremity of his ecstasy, blue mice and pink elephants ... The other type of drinker has imagination, vision. Even when most pleasantly jingled he walks straight and naturally, never staggers nor falls, and knows just where he is and what he is doing. It is not his body but his brain that is drunken. ~ Jack London

Being in the mood to write, like being in the mood to make love, is a luxury that isn't necessary in a long-term relationship. Just as the first caress can lead to a change of heart, the first sentence, however tentative and awkward, can lead to a desire to go just a little further. ~ Julia Cameron

He studied the boulders, then pushed against one until it began to move.
When she gasped, he stopped. "Seems I could free you, after all."
She gave him a tentative touch on his chest. "What would it take to get you to finish moving those?"
"What are you offering?" he asked, his voice rougher.
"Money? Would you take money to push these free?"
"I've plenty of my own. More than enough for both of us."
She scowled at that. "What do you want, then?"
"I want" - he ran his hand over his face - "to . . . touch you. Not here, but tonight . . ."
"Not going to happen." She crossed her arms over her chest, and his gaze landed on her damp cleavage. As he had that night on the coast, he looked like he was considering throwing her over his shoulder and tracing her back to his bed. "I do so wish my breasts would stop staring at your eyes."
His head jerked up, and he had to clear his throat to rasp, "Kiss me. Kiss me, and I'll free you."
"The last time that happened you bit me, and you could do it again." Kissing Sebastian always seemed to lead to more. Last time, it had led to his taking her blood.
And possibly her memories.
"I never bit you. I grazed your skin. Accidently."
"Then tell me you haven't contemplated doing it again."
"I" –he exhaled heavily - "cannot. The pleasure was too intense to ignore. ~ Kresley Cole

Running at night used to frighten me. Part of it was simply safety, the question of whether level ground would truly appear under each tentative footstep, and whether the temporary but complete blindness suffered while running toward headlights was, in fact, concealing death. ~ Don Kardong

Now a life like that, he figured, could make one tentative and fearful perhaps. Or it could make you remarkably strong, and what people called philosophical---and fiercely independent. Maybe it could make you careless of your own life, indifferent to danger, and determined to live exactly as you pleased. ~ Anne Rice

I am not a tentative person. Whatever I do, I give up my whole self to it ... ~ Edna St. Vincent Millay

For over two centuries (or so historians tell us), it was from the St. Petersburg salons that our country's culture advanced. From those great rooms overlooking the Fontanka Canal, new cuisines, fashions, and ideas all took their first tentative steps into Russian society. ~ Amor Towles

When he grasped her hand, he felt the calluses on her palm. He was thinking about how tough she was, and then she smiled. It was tentative and brief but it touched his heart, and then she was gone. He watched while she disappeared over the hill and then took the box into the kitchen, refilled his coffee and opened the lid. 36% ~ Sharon Sala

Wherever you walk, stand or sit, do it with self-confidence and be firmly convinced: I am a singer! Being tentative is one of the deadly theatre sins. ~ Marita Knobel

She hadn't gotten his expression quite right in her imagination, because the stunned, vacant expression on Shane's face when she started down the stairs was even better than fantasy. His mouth actually dropped open. Next to him, Michael turned around, and although she hadn't counted on it, there was a warm fuzzy to making a hot golden-angel vampire blink and give her a quick, involuntary once-over.
Claire stopped on the steps above them and did a tentative hip-shimmy. "Okay?" she asked. Shane's mouth shut with a snap, and Michael actually cleared his throat.
"Fine," Michael said.
"Fine?" That was Eve, coming down the stairs behind Claire. She moved around the roadblock and punched Michael in the arm. "She looks amazing. I'm not half g*y and I think she's hot."
Shane wasn't saying anything. Claire felt warm and a little dizzy, the way he was looking at her. She resisted the urge to check to see if her skirt was straight -- she'd done it a dozen times already --and forced herself to meet his gaze and smile.
"You sure this is smart?" Shane asked, which was not what she'd expected, not at all. "You look fantastic."
"Thanks -- "
He interrupted her. "Fantastic in this town pops you to the top of the take-out menu."
She held up her left hand and pointed to her wrist. The gold bracelet was clearly visible. "I'll be okay," she said. "The vamps won't bother me."
"Not even talking about the vamps. You're going to be drawing every guy there wh ~ Rachel Caine

It isn't that to have an honorable relationship with you, I have to understand everything, or tell you everything at once, or that I can know, beforehand, everything I need to tell you.
It means that most of the time I am eager, longing for the possibility of telling you. That these possibilities may seem frightening, but not destructive, to me. That I feel strong enough to hear your tentative and groping words. That we both know we are trying, all the time, to extend the possibilities of truth between us.
The possibility of life between us. ~ Adrienne Rich

(I) "My soul spoke to me in a whisper, urgently and alarmingly: 'Words, words, do not make too many words. Be silent and listen: have you recognized your madness, and do you admit it? Have you noticed that all your foundations are all completely mired in madness?'"
(2) Jung's soul: "There are hellish webs of words, only words ... Be tentative with words, value them ... for you are the first who gets snared in them. For words have meanings. With words you pull up the underworld. Word, the paltriest and mightiest. In words the emptiness and the fullness flow together. Hence the word is an image of the God."
(3) "But if the word is a symbol, it means everything. When the way enters death and we are surrounded by rot and horror, the way rises in the darkness and leaves the mouth as the saving symbol, the word. ~ C. G. Jung

Part of the story of 'Ghosts of Ascalon' is how they got to that tentative truce where you can find humans and charr working together. ~ Jeff Grubb

In recent decades, "pluralism" has become something of a buzzword. It is variously employed. Often it is used to argue that no normative ethic, even of the vaguest and most tentative sort, can be "imposed" in our public life. In practice this means that public policy decisions reflect a surrender of the normal to the abnormal, of the dominant to the deviant. Indeed it is of more than passing interest that terms such as abnormal or deviant have been largely exorcised from polite vocabulary among the elites in American life. The displacement of the constitutive by the marginal is not so much the result of perverse decision makers as it is the inevitable consequence of a polity and legal system in which the advantage of initiative lies with the offended. ~ Richard John Neuhaus

I am a cautious pilgrim of the night, a tentative wanderer among the stars. My awareness of my home in the universe is fleeting and incomplete. Into the homeless home of the sun-faced buddha I have stepped but briefly. My quest, such as it is, is rewarded with faint lights and scrawny cries, a trait here and trait there, a hint of the infinite and a tingle in the spine. Of "minute particulars" I will make my way. ~ Chet Raymo

Hunter turned and kissed Dillon deeply before he rinsed off. He had never wished for his sight before, but he would have given anything at that moment to be able to turn and witness the beauty of the man that had just made love to him. He'd literally felt the change in Dillon's grip as he made love.
The very first time they were together, Dillon's hold was uncertain, a tentative embrace that held no absolutes, no dreams, but just now it was different; it was a grip that sat right on the edge of possession, a possession Hunter would willingly give, if asked.
But would Dillon ask, and would he be able to accept? ~ Brandon Shire

I lifted my face to meet the kiss, wanting the comfort of his touch as much as I was willing to provide the comfort of mine. The contact was sweet and soft, yet at the same time desperate.

It was Zane who pulled away first. "Danica, I think..." He trailed off and kissed me again, this time briefly, just the barest touch of lips to lips. "I love you."

From a man who frequently uttered eloquent speeches, the tentative declaration was not the most flattering of compliments-especially when every movement he made and look he cast my way had shown the long truth before now.

But coming from the serpent who had once informed me that he did not love me and did not think he ever could, whose cool, polished words could cut to the bone and freeze the Earth's frozen molten blood - whose eyes right now were just a bid dazed, and whose expression was as open and startled as I had ever seen it - the words were more than enough.

"I know," I answered. Then, soft but certain, I answered, "I love you too."

His smile matched mine and said the same as mine: I know. ~ Amelia Atwater-Rhodes

He kissed her then. Not tentative. Not polite.
This was no first-kiss kiss. It was demanding. Dirty. And it went on and on. Deep, open-mouthed, head-twisting, tongue-fucking, rock'n'roll kissing. ~ Amy Andrews

A whisper of fabric as Derek dressed. Then a hand on my waist, a light touch, tentative. I turned and Derek was right there, his face above mine, hands sliding around me as I titled my face up
"What the - ?"
We both jumped - again. Tori stood there, staring at us, Simon behind her, grabbing her arm.
"I told you not to - " Simon began.
"Yeah, but you didn't say why. I sure didn't expect ... " She shook her head. "Am I the last one to know everything around here?"
Liz raced in. "What's going on?"
"Derek's ready," I said. "We need to move." ~ Kelley Armstrong

Softly, he said, "Why are you crying?"
His words made the tears flow faster.
"Kestrel."
She drew a shaky breath. "Because when my father comes home, I will tell him that he has won. I will join the military."
There was a silence. "I don't understand."
Kestrel shrugged. She shouldn't care whether he understood or not.
"You would give up your music?"
Yes. She would.
"But your bargain with the general was for spring." Arin still sounded confused. "You have until spring to marry or enlist. Ronan…Ronan would ask the god of souls for you. He would ask you to marry him."
"He has."
Arin didn't speak.
"But I can't," she said.
"Kestrel."
"I can't."
"Kestrel, please don't cry." Tentative fingers touched her face. A thumb ran along the wet skin of her cheekbone. She suffered for it, suffered for the misery of knowing that whatever possessed him to do this could be no more than compassion. He valued her that much. But not enough.
"Why can't you marry him?" he whispered.
She broke her word to herself and looked at him. "Because of you. ~ Marie Rutkoski

There is nothing as tentative as an old woman's touch; as loving or as horrible. ~ Anne Enright

I did not mean to be so long away from you. I had clan business to take care of, which took longer than I anticipated."
She nodded. "I understand."
He blew out a breath. "I'm not sure you do. I was eager to get through that business precisely because I wanted it out of the way so that I could return to your side."
Now it was her turn to feel her body flush with heat. "Oh yeah?"
"Aye." He looked down at his hands and then slowly reached and clasped her hand resting against her thigh. The rough feel of his calloused hands on her skin, and the tentative vulnerability in the movement, about made her slide forward off the bench and melt in a puddle on the stone floor.
He really was just a big - quiet - teddy bear. ~ Angela Quarles

There are times you run off a cliff. It is like one of those Looney Tunes cartoons, where Wile E. Coyote sprints really hard and he's still running even though he's already gone off the cliff and then he stops and looks down and knows he will plummet and that there is nothing he can do to stop it. But sometimes, maybe most times, it isn't that clear. It is dark and you are near the edge of the cliff but you're moving slowly, not sure what direction you're heading in. Your steps are tentative but they are still blind in the night. You don't realize how close you are to the edge, how the soft earth could give way, how you could just slip a bit and suddenly plunge into the dark. This ~ Harlan Coben

I'd always dread this part of being a guest in the morning - the tentative yielding into the house's normal traffic. ~ Kaui Hart Hemmings