Tip Of My Tounge Quotes

Look what you have done
You're my favorite song
Always on the tip of my tongue ~ The Civil Wars

If you ask all the cells
in my body,
they only answer your name.
Follicles push the hair upwards
so they may brush
against your skin.
Nails grow faster as well.
Lungs breathe rapidly
in hopes of inhaling your scent.
Toes curl to smile and
knees form dimples when you are near.
Brain fireworks.
Stomach fills with flies of butter
and swallows, and
swans swoon.
Cattle, rhinos, and walruses too -
there's a stampede when you are near.
I love you from the bottom of my liver
to the tip of my lashes.
One wink from you and heart stops,
like a sneeze. Bless you.
I cannot even begin to tell you
what happens to soul,
for soul is off
flying with its mate. ~ Kamand Kojouri

What, I wondered, did he mean by "society"? The plural of human beings? Where was the substance of this thing called "society"? I had spent my whole life thinkng that society must certainly be something powerful, harsh and severe, but to hear Horiki talk made the words "Don't you mean yourself?" come to the tip of my tongue. But I held the words back, reluctant to anger him.
'Society won't stand for it.'
'It's not society. You're the one who won't stand for it - right?'
'If you do such a thing society will make you suffer for it'
'It's not society. It's you, isn't it?'
'Before you know it, you'll be ostracized by society.'
'It's not society. You're going to do the ostracizing, aren't you?'
Words, words of every kind went flitting through my head. "Know thy particular fearsomeness, thy knavery, cunning and witchcraft!" What I said, however, as I wiped the perspiration from my face with a handkerchief was merely, "You've put me in a cold sweat!" I smiled.
From then on, however, I came to hold, almost as a philosophical conviction, the belief: What is society but an individual? ~ Osamu Dazai

I slip my arm from underneath his sleeping head -
it's numb, swarming with imaginary pins.
A host of fallen angels perches on each tip,
waiting to be counted. ~ Wislawa Szymborska

An ocean of ink in a single drop,
Trembling at the tip of my brush.
Poised above stark white paper,
A universe waits for existence. ~ Lao-Tzu

I wasn't even used to being someone's girlfriend yet. I don't know how to be a wife." "Tip: have sex with me, and only me, often." "And there's the rest of my life, having sex with a sinfully hot man. However will I cope?" "I'm ~ R.J. Blain

Patch reached for my hand and pushed my dad's ring off the tip of his finger and into my palm, curling my fingers around it. He kissed my knuckles. "I was going to give this back earlier, but it wasn't finished."
I opened my palm and held the ring up. The same heart was engraved on the underside, but now there were two names carved on either side of it: NORA and JEV.
I looked up. "Jev? That's your real name?"
"Nobody's called me that in a long time. ~ Becca Fitzpatrick

Thank you for the shoes, Thomas." I looked at the stack of boxes, teetering precariously close to the edge of the settee now. He caught my stare and nudged them back to safety. "All of them. It was very sweet. And highly unnecessary."

"Your happiness is always necessary to me." He tilted my chin up and kissed the tip of my nose. "We'll find new ways of navigating the world together, Wadsworth. If you can no longer wear heels, we'll design flats you adore. If you ever find those no longer work, I'll have a wheeled chair made and bejeweled to your liking. Anything at all in the universe you need, we will make it so. And if you'd prefer to do it on your own, I will always step aside. I also promise to keep my opinion mostly to myself."

"Mostly?"

He considered that. "Unless it's vastly inappropriate. Then I'll share it with gusto. ~ Kerri Maniscalco

I stand so abruptly that Leiza startles.

"If Violet wants to find me, I'll be outside chopping wood," I tell her, causing her to choke back a sound that suspiciously resembles a smothered laugh.

When I eye her, she's the picture of seriousness, nodding once again. "Of course, Alpha," she says so graciously.

Tearing my shirt over my head, I toss it to the ground. Leiza's phone rings, and she puts it aside.

"A vampire is calling me. That can't be good," she says as she meets my eyes, almost asking for permission to answer Shera's call.

"They're trying to reach me. Not you. They can kiss my ass. I need a minute to deal with this."

"I thought you were tired and going to get some sleep," Leiza states, and then swallows down whatever else is on the tip of her tongue.

"I'm no longer tired," I point out dryly.

Another nod from Leiza, and I walk out shirtless to go chop some fucking wood for the fireplace Violet rarely ever uses.

There's an axe wedged into one of the piles of wood near the chopping block, making this simpler than expected, so I get to work.

Before I can even make one small pile, Damien is wheeling into the driveway, barely putting the brake on, before he hops out.

His eyes narrow on me, and then his brow furrows. It's when his lips start to twitch that I bristle, feeling a little too transparent.

"Didn't realize you'd gotten this pathetic ~ Kristy Cunning

All she saw, down in the cellar well beneath the stoop, was a light yellow feather with a tip of green. And she had never named him. Had called him "my parrot" all these years. "My parrot." "Love you. "Love you."
Did the dogs get him? Or did he get the message - that she said, "My parrot" and he said, "Love you," and she had never said it back or even taken the trouble to name him - and manage somehow to fly away on wings that had not soared for six years. ~ Toni Morrison

I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet. ~ Sylvia Plath

In my experience conservatives hate reporters mainly because they see us as phonies. We reject the idea that we belong to a class, or that we have our own tribal beliefs. Sometimes the hypocrisy is something they've seen - upper-class liberals, railing about racism in the heartland from the comfort of an all-white suburban town, where they occasionally tip a Puerto Rican gardener or hire a Republican plumber. But a lot of it has to do with approach and tone, the way we openly write for and celebrate professional-sect audiences, unlike the columnists of the past, the Mike Roykos or Jack Newfields, who were unembarrassed to write in the language of the working person. ~ Matt Taibbi

Miss me?" she asks with her usual wryness, tossing her backpack on the floor and dropping down on the bed beside me like she comes over all the time. "I feel like a rebel just knowing you. Everyone keeps asking me if you really lit Brooklyn on fire."
I arch a brow. "On fire?"
Catherine pumps up a pillow beneath her head. "The actual event has gotten a bit exaggerated." Her lips twitch. "Maybe I had something to do with that."
"Nice. Thanks."
"No problem."
"So I guess I'm pretty much done for at school." For the first time, it matters to me. If I'm to stay here and make a go of it, it wouldn't hurt to have a few friends. To not be a social outcast. Especially since it seems pretty important for Tamra's success at school, too.
"Are you kidding? You're a hero." Her lips twist with a smile. "I think you've got a shot at homecoming queen next fall."
I give a short laugh, and then her words sink. Next fall. Might I be here then? With Will? It's almost too sweet to believe.
"So," Catherine beings, picking at the loose paper edging my spiral. "Rutledge was absent today."
"Yeah?" I try for nonchalance.
"Yeah." She stretches the word, her blue-green eyes cutting meaningfully into mine. "And his cousins were around, so he's not off somewhere with them. I wonder..." She cocks her head, her long, choppy bangs, sliding low across her forehead. "Wherever could he have been?"
I shrug and pick at the flaking tip of my pencil.
She con ~ Sophie Jordan

What would you do without me?" he asked one night. We were tangled in the silky sheets of his gigantic bed. My heart was still pounding as I came down from the high of what we'd just done, and he wasn't helping matters by putting his lips so close to my ear.
"Live a happy… happy life," I murmured. "I might even… be an optimist… if you weren't around."
"Liar." He bit my earlobe playfully. "You'd be absolutely miserable. Admit it, Duffy. I'm the wind beneath your wings."
I bit my lip, but I still couldn't hold back the laughter-and just as I was finally catching my breath, too. "You just referenced Bette Midler… in bed. I'm starting to question your sexuality, Wesley."
Wesley looked at me with a defiant glint in his eye. "Oh, really?" He grinned before moving his mouth back to my ear and whispering, "We both know that my manhood has never been in question… I think you're just changing the subject because you know it's true. I'm the light of your life."
"You…" I struggled for words as Wesley pressed his mouth into the crook of my neck. The tip of his tongue moved down to my shoulder and made my brain get all fuzzy. How was I supposed to argue under these conditions? "You wish. I'm just using you, remember?"
His laughter was muffled against my skin. "That's amusing," he said, his lips still grazing my collarbone. "Because I'm pretty sure your ex is out of town by now." One of his hands slid between my knees. "Yet you're still here, aren't you?" His f ~ Kody Keplinger

As much as Merthyr is a fighting town, these people also have hearts of gold. I worked all over Monmouth, and then the Aberfan disaster happened! That was a very emotional episode in my life. I never want to see anything like that ever again! In my opinion, the tip should have been moved well before the rain got in to it, and the old tip came rolling down the hillside on the school and the walls just caved in! ~ Stephen Richards

Newt spun, making her robe unfurl. "He's my familiar, bought and paid for. I can claim anything of his. Even his life." Al cleared his throat nervously. "That's good to know," he said lightly. "Important safety tip. Rachel, write that down somewhere as lesson number one. ~ Kim Harrison

Is this your way of telling me to shut my face?" Jace inquired. "Remember when you mocked me for sneaking around with Magnus and asked me if I'd fallen on my neck?" Alec asked, placing the tip of the stele against his forearm and starting to draw an iratze. "This is payback. ~ Cassandra Clare

Things I forgot to tell you:
That I love you, and that when I awake in the morning I use my intelligence to discover more ways of appreciating you.
That when June comes back she will love you more because I have loved you. There are new leaves on the tip and climax of your already overrich head.
That I love you.
That I love you.
That I love you.
I have become an idiot like Gertrude Stein. That's what love does to intelligent women. They cannot write letters anymore. ~ Anais Nin

Improper breathing is a common cause of ill health. If I had to limit my advice on healthier living to just one tip, it would be simply to learn how to breathe correctly. There is no single more powerful -or more simple- daily practice to further your health and well being than breathwork. ~ Andrew Weil

Ladies and gentlemen of the class of '97:
Wear sunscreen.
If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience. I will dispense this advice now.
Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they've faded. But trust me, in 20 years, you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked. You are not as fat as you imagine.
Don't worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 p.m. on some idle Tuesday. ~ Mary Schmich

Now he snickers, but the sound dies when the tip of my finger circles his hole. His ass cheeks instantly clench. Not in fear, but anticipation. I see it in his eyes, a raw gleam of heat, before he lifts up his other knee and all but puts himself on display for me. Jesus. Nope, not gonna survive this. ~ Sarina Bowen

Och, Dani my darling, you're not giving me a single reason to wait for you to grow up. You're giving me a thousand reasons not to."
It's Christian! I'm so glad it's him, not one of the other princes! I turn around in his arms and tip my head back. "Hi, Christian!" I beam at him. He's hotter than the other princes. I'm glad I got him. I'll take the others, too, but I want him first. "I want to grow up. Now. Hurry. ~ Karen Marie Moning

I spread my fingers outward,
letting the knife tip of my
middle finger rip the sky as
it tares a rift in the moon. ~ A.P. Sweet

I still have to count on my hands! I'll be in a restaurant doing a tip and I'll be like, 'What's 20% of this?' ~ Katharine McPhee

History, lie of our lives, mire of our loins. Our sins, our souls. Hiss-tih-ree: the tip of the pen taking a trip of three steps (with one glide) down the chronicle to trap a slick, sibilant character. Hiss. (Ss.) Tih. Ree.
He was a pig, a plain pig, in the morning, standing five feet ten on one hoof. He was a pig in slacks. He was a pig in school. He was a pig on the dotted line. But in my eyes it's always the ones signing dotted lines that become pigs.
Did this pig have a precursor? He did, indeed he did. In point of fact, dating all the way back to the Biblical Age. Oh where? About everywhere you look there's pigs giving that fancy ol' snake a chase. Yeah, yeah, yeah, you can always count on a fuckin' pretentious sarcastican for a fancy prose style. ~ Brian Celio

Growing up, I considered [my dad] to be an exemplar of fidelity. For instance, he didn't believe in removing his wedding ring, no matter what. Whenever he washed his hands, he would thoroughly scrub his right hand, then align his two ring fingers tip to tip, slide the ring from his left ring finger to his right, then scrub his left hand. ~ Steven Rinella

Do me a favor," he whispers, curling my fingers over the back of his and bringing them to his mouth. "What?" His eyes never leave mine as he brushes his lips over my knuckles. "Dream of me tonight," he says softly. He watches me, waiting for a response. I have no words, so I simply nod. He doesn't need to know that no one else occupies my dreams. No one. "Dream of my lips, teasing you." Straightening one of my fingers, he kisses the tip. His voice is like velvet and his words are like an aphrodisiac. "Dream of my tongue, tasting you." His tongue sneaks out to flick the end of my finger. A surge of desire rocks my core. "And I'll dream of you. Of what it feels like to be inside your warm, wet body. ~ M. Leighton

Then we were at the fountain - we stop and look up at the many illuminated windows of number 2.
"This is as far as you can walk me," she says. "Thanks for taking me home."
I bowed, not daring to say a word. I doffed my hat and stood bareheaded. I wondered if she would give me her hand.
"Why don't you ask me to walk back with you part of the way?" She says playfully. But she looks down at the tip of her shoe.
"Gee," I answer, "if only you would!"
"Sure, but only a little way."
And we turned around.
I was utterly bewildered, I didn't know which way was up anymore; this person turned all my thinking topsy-turvy. I was enchanted, wonderfully glad; I felt as though I were dying from happiness. She had expressly wanted to go back with me, it wasn't my idea, it was her own wish. I gaze and gaze at her, growing more and more cocky, and she encourages me, drawing me toward her by every word she speaks. I forget for a moment my poverty, my humble self, my whole miserable existence, I feel the blood coursing warmly through my body as in the old days, before I broke down. ~ Knut Hamsun

I spin in the trail to face Kat, who raises her own walking stick to meet mine.
'A duel to the death?' Kat says, giggling.
I laugh, too, and we spar for a moment playfully until Kat gently presses the tip of her stick into my chest. 'On your knees and beg for mercy.'
Oh, god. This feels silly and dangerous at the same time. I kneel. I look up at Kat, beautiful and fierce standing there with the setting sun in her hair and her face so stern. Only her eyes are full of mirth. I stare.
'Close your eyes, prisoner.'
I giggle stupidly, my heart leaping at the point of her stick.
'Close your eyes. And stop laughing.'
I try to obey, shaking a little.
Katy moves her makeshift lance to my neck, pressing gently. 'Close em.'
I close my eyes, serious at last. There is a long silence, and I feel genuinely vulnerable for a moment, as though Kat really does have a sword to my neck. Then I feel the stick come down gently and touch each of my shoulders.
'I… dub… thee… mine,' says Kat softly. 'Sealed with a kiss.' The stick falls to the forest floor behind her. She kneels down in front of me and touches my face with both hands. It's all I can do to stay here, to be here, to hold still. ~ Elissa Janine Hoole

I looked at Victor, my heart swelling from the emotion. "When I die, please do the same ceremony for me," I whispered, choking up. "This is the most captivating and emotional event I have ever been part of."
"I'm afraid you'll have to ask somebody else for that because if you die before me I won't survive it." He kissed the tip of my nose. I gazed at him with so much love that my heart almost burst out of my chest. ~ A.B. Whelan

The SWAT team leader didn't like us cutting up the body. He and Ramirez went into a yelling match.
While everyone was watching the argument, I nodded to Olaf and he beheaded the corpse in one blow. Blood gushed out onto the cave floor.
"What the fuck are you doing?" one of the SWAT cops asked, bringing his gun pointed at us.
"My job," I said. I put the tip of the blade under the ribs.
The policeman brought the gun up to his shoulder. "Get away from the body until the captain tells you it's okay to do it."
I kept the knife against the body. "Olaf."
"Yes."
"If he shoots me, kill him."
"My pleasure." The big man turned his eyes to the policeman, and there was something in that gaze that made the heavily armed man take a step back.
I plunged the blade into the skin, and it slid home. I cut a hole just below his ribs and reached into the hole. It was tight and wet and slick, and it took two hands to get the heart out, one to cut it free of the connecting tissue, and one to hold onto it. I drew it from the chest, blood stained to my elbows.
I caught Ramirez and Bernardo both looking at me, with nearly identical looks on their faces. I didn't think either of them would be wanting a date any time soon. They'd always remember watching me cut a man's heart out, and that memory would stain anything else. With Bernardo, I didn't give a shit. With Ramirez, it hurt to see that look in his eyes.
A hand touched the heart. I stared at tha ~ Laurell K. Hamilton

Jorek bent low, catching Akos's stomach with the tip of the practice knife.
"Not a good place to aim, Kuzar," Akos said. "In a real fight, I'd be wearing armor."
"I go by 'Jorek,' not 'Kuzar.' You've earned armor?"
"Yeah." Akos used his distraction against him, smacking the front of Jorek's throat with the flat of the weapon. Jorek choked, clapping his hands over his neck.
"All right, all right," he gasped, showing a palm. "That answers that question."
Akos backed up to the edge of the arena to put some space between them. "What question? About my armor?"
"No. Damn, that sucked." He massaged his throat. "I came here wondering how good you'd gotten, training with Cyra. My father said you didn't know hand from foot when he first met you."
Akos's anger was slow to come, like water turning to ice, but it had some heft to it, when it did. Like right then.
"Your father--" he stared, but Jorek interrupted.
"Is the worst kind of man, yes. That's what I want to talk to you about. ~ Veronica Roth

One hobby I did not pick up was crocheting, an obsession among prisoners throughout the system. Some of the handiwork was impressive. The inmate who ran the laundry was a surly rural white woman named Nancy whose dislike for anyone but "northerners" was hardly a secret. Her personality left a lot to be desired, but she was a remarkable crochet artist. One day in C Dorm I happened upon Nancy standing with my neighbor Allie B. and mopey Sally, all howling with laughter. "What?" I asked, innocently. "Show her, Nancy!" giggled Allie. Nancy opened her hand. Perched there in her palm was an astonishingly lifelike crochet penis. Average in size, it was erect, fashioned of pink cotton yarn, with balls and a smattering of brown cotton pubic hair, and a squirt of white yarn ejaculate at the tip. ~ Piper Kerman

Money, dished out in quantities fitting the context, is a social lubricant here. It eases passage even as it maintains hierarchies. Fifty naira for the man who helps you back out from the parking spot, two hundred naira for the police officer who stops you for no good reason in the dead of night, ten thousand for the clearing agent who helps you bring your imported crate through customs. For each transaction, there is a suitable amount that helps things on their way. No one else seems to worry, as I do, that the money demanded by someone whose finger hovers over the trigger of a AK-47 is less a tip than a ransom. I feel that my worrying about it is a luxury that few can afford. For many Nigerians, the giving and receiving of bribes, tips, extortion money, or alms
the categories are fluid
is not thought of in moral terms. It is seen either as a mild irritant or as an opportunity. It is a way of getting things done, neither more nor less than what money is there for. ~ Teju Cole

I pouted. "Please, just try to put the head in a little more... I really need to feel you, Kane. I'm begging you."

Kane set his jaw, but his eyes fluttered shut when I rubbed back against him.

"Just... just the tip?" he whispered and cracked an eye open.

Hell. No.

I nodded my head to appease him.

"Just the tip, baby," I repeated.

I was spewing bullshit because as soon as I got the chance I would push back and take all of him.
"Oh, fuck," Kane snarled. "This is… God!"

I quivered as goose bumps broke out over my skin. "Yes, just a little more."

Kane's fingers dug into my hips. "You aren't making this… easier. Fuck. How do you feel tighter?"

I licked my lips. "Lack of use, maybe?"

Kane slapped my arse and said, "Smartass. ~ L.A. Casey

We were still so young when our eyes first met. We would run holding hands through the lawn of the college campus. I vividly remember the grass beneath the cherry tree that had water at the tip which touched our legs. I vividly remember how we would talk about our future as the sun rays sparkled like diamonds through the leaves of the trees outside the campus auditorium. I vividly remember your urge to touch my erratic strands in the gentle breeze outside the canteen. And then we allowed distance to conquer the space between us so we could build a career, sculpt a life and keep the promises. And did we not do well! ~ Debalina Haldar

Hello, Ethan." "What the hell are you doing in my bedroom?" He seemed at a loss, for Macon, which just meant he didn't have an immediate and charming explanation on the tip of his tongue. "It's complicated." "Well, uncomplicate it. Because you climbed in my window in the middle of the night, so either you're some kind of vampire or some kind of perv, or both. Which is it? ~ Kami Garcia

I could apologize for all the women I knew before you. But I'm not going to."
"Didn't ask you to," I said sullenly.
His hand slipped under the sheet, gently sweeping over me. "I learned something from every woman I've been with. And I needed to learn a lot before I was ready for you."
I scowled. "Why? Because I'm complicated? Difficult?" I fought to keep my breathing steady as he cupped my breast and shaped it.
He shook his head. "Because there's so much I want to do for you. So many ways I want to please you." He bent to kiss me, and brushed the tip of his nose against mine in a playful nudge. "Those women were just practice for you."
"Good line," I said grudgingly. ~ Lisa Kleypas

Are you jealous?" She has a half-smile, a laugh waiting to escape.
"No. Not jealous." I squeeze her to me, lifting her off the ground back onto her tip-toes. "Possessive. You belong to me." I push her away. "Take off that dress." I allow some anger into my voice. "Now!" She jumps in place a little and reaches behind her to unzip. I grab her shoulders and twist her around. Putting my hands at the base of her neck, I rip the dress down the middle, tearing the zipper apart. She half gasps, half cries out. "You won't be wearing that again. ~ Willow Madison