Tucked Shirt Quotes

I never trust a man who tucks in his shirt by choice or neglects coffee in favor of tea. ~ Brian D'Ambrosio

From the perspective of someone with two grown and wonderful kids, that your instincts as parents are correct: a minute spent reading to your kids now will repay itself a million-fold later, not only because they love you for reading to them, but also because, years later, when they're gone and miles away, those quiet evenings, when you were tucked in with them, everything quiet but the sound of the page-turns, will, seem to you, I promise ... sacred. ~ George Saunders

I can mix and match a cute shirt with some skinny jeans under a leather jacket and it looks fun and unique. ~ Miley Cyrus

What do you expect? I love Americans, but sometimes we make me cringe. Yesterday I saw a guy wearing a shirt that said, 'I shaved my balls for this? ~ Jamie Michele

It's a strange feeling to like someone so much and yet be terrified to have them in your space, touching you. It isn't that I don't like it when we touch- when we brush arms or when he taps me on the shoulder or when I pick a piece of lint off his shirt. I like it too much. My body gets excited without my permission, and it's not okay. It's out of control. ~ Francesca Zappia

When she offered me a spot of tea, I said, "No thanks, I've already got a spot of tea on my shirt. ~ Jarod Kintz

I'm not afraid of you, Roarke."
"Aren't you?" He moved closer, curling his hands on the lapels of her shirt. "What do you think will happen if you step over the line?"
"Too much," she murmured. ~ J.D. Robb

Abigail,' he says. 'I thought it was you.'
'Hi!' I say loudly. 'Mark!'
'Who?' says Robert. Fuck, he doesn't know his real name. Why do I give everyone stupid nicknames?
'I almost don't recognise you out of your SKINNY JEANS,' I enunciate carefully. He's wearing grey flannel trousers and a pink T-Shirt with leather Converses. He speaks clothes exceptionally confidently for a straight man. I wonder if he'd take me shopping.
'Oh, right. Got it.'
'That's odd,' says Skinny Jeans. 'Since I was wearing nothing at all when you left my room without saying goodbye . . . let's see, seven weeks ago?'
'Um, yes. Well, you know . . .' I trail off. Come on, Robert, I think desperately.
'I'm sorry, were you planning on making me breakfast in bed?' says Robert. Yes! Make a joke!
'I'm sorry, were you planning on making me breakfast in bed?' I say.
Skinny Jeans grins.
'Scrambled eggs? Toast? On a little tray?'
'Scrambled eggs? Toast? On a little tray with a rose on it?' I say.
'Don't fuck with my script,' says Robert, which makes me grin slightly more broadly ~ Gemma Burgess

Even though I'm resting I'm accomplishing something by sewing that shirt that I've been meaning to sew for weeks. And it's relaxing. It's so very meditative and quiet and enjoyable. But at least I'm producing something. I'm being productive in some way. I have a very hard time being completely idle. ~ Evangeline Lilly

When Dad pulled up in front of the house, the three of us sat still for a moment and stared at the gloomy pile of bricks my great-aunt called home. Up close, it looked even worse than it had from a distance. Ivy clung to the walls, spreading over windows and doors. A wisteria vine heavy with bunches of purple blossoms twisted around the porch columns. Paint peeled, loose shutters banged in the wind, slates from the roof littered the overgrown lawn.
Charles Addams would have loved it. So would Edgar Allan Poe. But not me. No, sir, definitely not me. Just looking at the place made my skin prickle.
Dad was the first to speak. "This is your ancestral home, Drew," he said, once more doing his best to sound excited. "It was built by your great-great-grandfather way back in 1865, right after the Civil War. Tylers have lived here ever since."
While Dad babbled about family history and finding your roots and things like that, I let my thoughts drift to Camp Tecumseh again. Maybe Martin wasn't so bad after all, maybe he and I could have come to terms this summer, maybe we--
My fantasies were interrupted by Great-aunt Blythe. Flinging the front door open, she came bounding down the steps. The wind ballooned her T-shirt and swirled her gray hair. If she spread her arms, she might fly up into the sky like Mary Poppins. ~ Mary Downing Hahn

The only bubble in the flat champagne of February is Valentine's Day. It was no accident that our ancestors pinned Valentine's Day on February's shirt: he or she lucky enough to have a lover in frigid, antsy February has cause for celebration, indeed. ~ Tom Robbins

I want a God that makes me twirl.' I jumped off the couch. I untucked and unbuttoned my shirt so it would flow like a robe. 'Like this. I can do this for God.' I held my hands out. I twirled and twirled and twirled. 'Look,' I said. 'Look. ~ Rabih Alameddine

She groaned and tucked her fingers between my side and the mattress. "I don't think I'm ever going to get used to the cold air here."
I chuckled and kissed her forehead. "Just wait 'til it snows."
"Ugh," she moaned.
"I'll turn the heat up," I said and started to move from beneath her. She clutched me closer and made a sound of determination. I laughed. It thrilled the shit out of me that she liked having me so close. "I thought you were cold," I said affectionately.
"But you're warm."
"I'll come right back."
"Kiss me," she demanded. She was definitely a shy person, but the more time we spent together, the less shy she was with me when we were alone. I loved it. It was like getting a glimpse of the person no one else saw. ~ Cambria Hebert

Whoever is in charge of making sure I don't do stupid shit is fired.
- T-SHIRT ~ Darynda Jones

I want you, Anastasia," he murmurs. "I love and I hate, and I love arguing with you. It's very new. I need to know that we're okay. It's the only way I know how."
"My feelings for you haven't changed," I whisper.
His proximity is overwhelming, exhilarating. The familiar pull is there, all my synapses goading me toward him, my inner goddess at her most libidinous. Staring at the patch of hair in the V of his shirt, I bite my lip, helpless, driven by desire - I want to taste him there.
He's so close, but he doesn't touch me. His heat is warming my skin.
"I'm not going to touch you until you say yes," he says softly. "But right now, after a really shitty morning, I want to bury myself in you and just forget everything but us. ~ E.L. James

This is new. Old Quinn would not have worn a skirt on her first day of sophomore year. Old Quinn would have worn a pair of jeans (hole in the knee? even better) and a t-shirt advertising the Providence Prep volleyball team, or some other sports team I didn't play for. ~ Selena Brooks

And here I was in brown slacks and a tweed jacket over a sports shirt called, according to the salesman, "Hot Hula." At least there were no wild Balinese babes doing things on the shirt; it was just colorful. ~ Richard S. Prather

Maybe try the hipster ones."
"You're so hot, I better date you before you're cool!" Quincy shouted. "My feelings for you are one hundred percent organic and locally sourced! Are you gluten-free tonight, because I'd like to take you on a date! I'd still care about you even if you went mainstream! Roses are red, your shirt is ironic, your drink of choice is probably a mason jar filled with a vodka tonic! ~ T.J. Klune

Well, it was probably the fever. You were burning up."
My eyes snapped back to his. "You touched me?"
"Yes, I touched you…and you weren't wearing a lot of clothes." The smug stretch of his lips spread. "And you were soaked …in a white T-shirt. Nice look. Very nice."
Heat crept over my cheeks. "The lake…it wasn't a dream?" Daemon shook his head.
"Oh my God, so I did go swimming in the lake?"
He pushed off the desk and took one step forward, which put him in the same breathing space as me… if he actually needed to breathe. "You did. Not something I expected to see on Monday night, but I'm not complaining. I saw a lot."
"Shut up," I hissed.
"Don't be embarrassed." He reached out, tugging on the sleeve of my cardigan. I smacked his hand away. "It's not like I haven't seen the upper part before, and I didn't get a real good look down - "
I came off the desk swinging. My knuckles only brushed his face before he caught my hand. Wowzer, he was fast. Daemon pulled me up against his chest and lowered his head, eyes snapping with restrained anger. "Don't hit, kitten. It's not nice. ~ Jennifer L. Armentrout

There she was, lying on a single bed in a room so small that there wasn't even space for a chair, and the first thing that struck him was that she was beautiful. She had lost too much weight - her long legs were too thin in greasy jeans and her upper body looked as frail as a bird's under a greasy workman's shirt - but her pale and famished face, with its great blue eyes and delicate, thin-lipped mouth, made her look like the heartbreaking debutante her mother might always have wanted her to be. ~ Richard Yates

In Jalalabad it was half past four in the afternoon. Tea was being served in the white mud house. The new messenger had been brought to the small hot room. She was a woman. Twenty-four years old, long black hair, skin the color of tea. She was wearing a white explorer shirt, full of loops and pockets, and khaki pants, and desert boots. She was standing at attention in front of the two men, who were sitting on their cushions. The ~ Lee Child

Most of the time I'm in khakis and a white T-shirt. I'm a total Gap girl. Super casual, hair in a pony tail and no makeup. ~ Jennifer Love Hewitt

Once I had it free, I gobbled the sandwich like a nature-film otter cracking an oyster on its stomach: knees up in the wiring under the dashboard, my elbows jammed against the steering wheel, my chest serving as a table, my shirt as a tablecloth. ~ Jonathan Lethem

Holding onto Midge's shirt so he isn't carried off in the wind, we ~ Jon Bounds

No more boys taking you on trips, you hear?" His voice was gravelly. "You can take your own self from now on. Last thing you need is some boy distracting you and making this whole situation even more complicated. Promise me you'll stay away from that son of Pharzuph."
I opened my mouth but the words stuck in my dry throat. How sweat beaded up on my forehead.
"I tried that once, John," Patti warned him. "It didn't work out so well for me."
"Have you seen the way he looks at her?" He focused on Patti, but pointed at me.
"Yes, and I've seen the way she looks at him. Truthfully, I think they need each other."
"Those two need each other like a bullet needs a target. Trust me. I've seen Nephilim kids killed for falling in love and letting it get in the way of their work."
"Well, you don't have to worry, because we're not in love," I chimed in. "He doesn't like me like that."
Dad puffed out a breath of air. "Well, he must feel something, 'cause he sure doesn't want that other kid near you."
"Is there someone else you're interested in?" Patti asked.
I rolled my colors back up, tucked them inside, and yanked the barrier back into place. Then I entertained the image of Kopano's sweet dimple for a brief second before pushing it away.
"I'm not ready to think about that," I answered.
My father tilted his head up to the ceiling and pressed his giant hands to his face, muffling his speech. "I'm way too old for this. ~ Wendy Higgins

Are you okay?"
I sighed,my sodden coat chilling me to the bone. "Peachy.Made a new friend."
He pulled me up by the hand,unzipping my coat and yanking it off me.
"Shirt,too,please."
"No!"
"It's only fair. I seem to recall you making me strip the first time we met. ~ Kiersten White

I closed what little distance was left between us, one hand sliding through his soft hair, the other gathering the back of his shirt into my fist. When my lips finally pressed against his, I felt something coil deep inside of me. There was nothing outside of him, not even the grating of cicadas, not even the gray-bodied trees. My heart thundered in my chest. More, more, more - a steady beat. His body relaxed under my hands, shuddering at my touch. Breathing him in wasn't enough, I wanted to inhale him. The leather, the smoke, the sweetness. I felt his fingers counting up my bare ribs. Liam shifted his legs around mine to draw me closer.

I was off-balance on my toes; the world swaying dangerously under me as his lips traveled to my cheek, to my jaw, to where my pulse throbbed in my neck. He seemed so sure of himself, like he had already plotted out this course.

I didn't feel it happen, the slip. Even if I had, I was so wrapped up in him that I couldn't imagine pulling back or letting go of his warm skin or that moment. His touch was feather-light, stroking my skin with a kind of reverence, but the instant his lips found mine again, a single thought was enough to rocket me out of the honey-sweet haze.

The memory of Clancy's face as he had leaned in to do exactly what Liam was doing now suddenly flooded my mind, twisting its way through me until I couldn't ignore it. Until I was seeing it play out glossy and burning like it was someone else's mem ~ Alexandra Bracken

So I just live with my insomnia. I do crossword puzzles, or wander out to the music room and fool around on the piano, or read. Those late hours when the world is completely still, when the only sound is the rustle of the air in the vents and the wind visiting the trees outside, when the darkness is tucked tight around the house and you feel as life itself the movements of your own consciousness-these are wonderful hours to read. There is no interruption. ~ Stephen Goodwin

I'm thinking about the beautiful boy on the treadmill wearing the I STILL HAVE A DREAM T-shirt and realize that it might not have been ironic. ~ Bret Easton Ellis

Did last night really happen?" One side of his lips tipped up, and my chest swelled. I'd missed that smile. "Depends on what you think happend." "I took my shirt off for you?" His eyes deepened. "Yes. Lovely moment. ~ J. Lynn

This isn't just any shirt,' he told her. 'This shirt was worn by he-who-must-not-be-named in the first of the Twilight films.'
Lara's mouth fell open. She blinked several times. What was he talking about? Voldemort wasn't even in Twilight. ~ Lola Salt

A shadow passes over her face, but she shakes it off fast as she leans forward, her bright-blue hair swinging over her shoulder and clashing with her pumpkin-orange shirt. "You think you're the only one who wants to bring back someone they love? Everyone loses someone. It's inevitable. Everyone thinks they're willing to give up everything to get that person back. There aren't many who are actually capable of it."
My breath catches in my throat as my brain processes her words. Nowhere in that speech did she say what I wanted was impossible. She just said most people aren't willing to make the necessary sacrifice.
"I'll do it. Anything. Whatever it takes. ~ Erica Cameron

If there's ever a kid out there that can't afford to buy the music, I still want them to hear it, and hopefully they'll go to the show, or buy a T-shirt from the band. That's the idea. ~ Conor Oberst

If I'd been alone, I wouldn't have eaten at all. I'd have taken a shower, thrown on an oversize T-shirt, and gone to bed surrounded by a few select penguins. Now I had a fancy dinner to eat, by candlelight nonetheless. If I said I wasn't hungry, would he be insulted? Would he pout? Would he yell about all the work going to waste and tell me about starving kids in Southeast Asia? "Shit," I said softly and with feeling. Well, hell, if we ever were going to cohabitate, he'd have to know the truth. I was unsociable, and food was something you ate so you wouldn't die. I ~ Laurell K. Hamilton

I don't have any elaborate uniforms; I come to the ring in a T-shirt, a pair of sneakers and some shorts. ~ John Cena

A dam inside my own heart opened up, and the feelings of heaviness and unease lifted like wind against the winter sky. I loved him. I loved his slow wit and his gruff demeanor and his tender disposition. I loved his endless empathy and his world-weary cynicism and his innocence. I loved that he was a walking, breathing paradox. I loved his lank hair and his iron earring and the tooth missing at the back of his mouth. I loved the way he laughed, music incomparable to any song, and the way he smiled, like you could see the child in him and the animal in him and the man in him all at once. I loved that he listened to crappy music, the kind that made me want to put my head through a wall, and I loved the charcoal stains on his knuckles and the pencils he tucked behind his ears. I loved that he told me to shut up as though I could actually say anything. I loved that he made me feel as though I could. I loved his short fingers and his rough palms and his long legs and his flat belly. I loved that he liked to read Kerouac but didn't know how to pronounce Kerouac. I loved his brown skin and his blue tattoos and his tempestuous blue eyes. I loved that he loved the land. I loved him. I loved him. Oh, God. I loved him. ~ Rose Christo