Uktena Tattoo Quotes

Potential boyfriends could not smoke Merit cigarettes, own or wear a pair of cowboy boots, or eat anything labeled either lite or heart smart. Speech was important, and disqualifying phrases included "I can't find my nipple ring" and "This one here was my first tattoo." All street names had to be said in full, meaning no "Fifty-ninth and Lex," and definitely no "Mad Ave." They couldn't drink more than I did, couldn't write poetry in notebooks and read it out loud to an audience of strangers, and couldn't use the words flick, freebie, cyberspace, progressive, or zeitgeist ... Age, race, weight were unimportant. In terms of mutual interests, I figured we could spend the rest of our lives discussing how much we hated the aforementioned characteristics. ~ David Sedaris

But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep, and miles to go before I sleep. ~ Robert Frost

A good tattoo always has a story that runs deeper than the skin, and Inked tells that story. ~ Tara Dakides

Know what one of the guys at the drive-through Starbucks has on his forearm?" Bernadette said. "A paper clip! It used to be so daring to get a tattoo. And now people are tattooing office supplies on their bodies. ~ Maria Semple

I'm never getting a tattoo. My secrets are etched safely on the inside and I intend to keep them there. ~ Lisa O'Donnell

Every time I get a tattoo, my parents say they'll disown me. I have to get them airbrushed for Charmed. Witches don't have tattoos, I guess. ~ Alyssa Milano

May I ask a personal question?" She looked at him. He waited until she nodded. "That dragon tattoo ... Why did you get it?" "You didn't see it before?" He smiled all of a sudden. "I mean I've glanced at it, but when you were uncovered I was pretty busy stopping the bleeding and extracting bullets and so on. ~ Stieg Larsson

Don't get politics mixed up in this. It's all about money and it makes no difference if the Social Democrats or the moderates appoint the ministers ~ Stieg Larsson

Write down the date, because I'm getting that tattoo five years from now, okay?"
The tears that had been only a gloss over Ryan's eyes now spilled down his temples. "You're doing this on purpose." Ryan laughed and gently punched his arm.
"Just a little bit." Liam rolled Ryan to his back and lapped off the salty wetness. His chest was swelling with joy ~ K.A. Merikan

He might be older than hr, but her hormones didn't care. No, they screamed 'fuck yeah, let's ride.' Her nipples tightened and she thanked God she'd worn a bra that morning. Talk about embarrassing if that was the first thing he's see. ~ Carrie Ann Ryan

I know California isn't a real destination. You can't get there from New Jersey, not simply by following a line drawn on a map. The process of arrival is more subtle and complex. It involves acts of contrition. You must appease the gods. You must find novel forms of penance. You must tattoo your children and look at the wonder. It's about conjuring and awakening and intuitions you wish you never had. ~ Kate Braverman

The funny thing is that my husband couldn't be sweeter. He looks like this bad boy. He's got tattoos and earrings and a mohawk, but when you talk to him and he's around you, he's such a gentleman. He holds doors for ladies. He pulls out chairs. He cooks. He cleans. ~ Malin Akerman

Look!" Mr. Poe said, who was still too far to help but close enough to see. "Genghis has an eye tattoo, like Count Olaf! In fact, I think he IS Count Olaf!"
"Of course he is!" Violet cried, holding up the unraveled turban.
"Merd!" Sunny shrieked, holding up a tiny piece of shoelace. She meant something like "That's what we've been trying to tell you. ~ Lemony Snicket

Tomorrow she'd look up tattoo removal. They were doing big things with lasers now. When Cal was just a little more stable, she'd break up with him, gently, and then she'd begin her project of helping everybody she could help, and after that she'd head out on a great long journey to absolutely nowhere and write a gorgeous poem cycle steeped in heavenly lavender-scented closure and also utter despair, a poem cycle you could also actually ride for its aerobic benefits, and she'd pedal that fucker straight across the face of the earth until at some point she'd coast right off the edge, whereupon she'd giggle and say, Oh, shit. ~ Sam Lipsyte

This place is a playground for a questing mind. ~ Larry Niven

If you can understand the inner life, then you can wear the uniform, the tattoos, or whatnot and realize that the things that are different about us become superficial. ~ Ethan Hawke

He pulls free before we make contact. "A moment, please. Allow me to bask in your devotion." He's referring to my ankle tattoo.
I blush. "I've told you a hundred times. It's only a set of wings."
"Nonsense." Morpheus grins. "I know a moth when I see one."
I groan in frustration, and he surrenders, letting me press our markings together. A spark rushes between them, expanding to a firestorm through my veins. His gaze locks on mine, and the bottomless depths flicker - like black clouds alive with lightning. For that instant, I'm bared to the bone. He looks inside my heart; I look inside his. And the similarities there terrify me. ~ A.G. Howard

A tattoo is an affirmation: that this body is yours to have and to enjoy while you're here. Nobody else can control what you do with it. ~ Don Ed Hardy

It was like staring into the face of a familiar stranger. You know, that person you see in a crowd and swear you know, but you really don't? Now she was me - the familiar stranger.

She had my eyes. They were the same hazel color that could never decide whether it wanted to be green or brown, but my eyes had never been that big and round. Or had they? She had my hair - long and straight and almost as dark as my grandma's had been before hers had begun to turn silver. The stranger had my high cheekbones, long, strong nose, and wide mouth - more features from my grandma and her Cherokee ancestors. But my face had never been that pale. I'd always been olive-ish, much darker skinned than anyone else in my family. But maybe it wasn't that my skin was suddenly so white ... maybe it just looked pale in comparison to the dark blue outline of the crescent moon that was perfectly positioned in the middle of my forehead. Or maybe it was the horrid fluorescent lighting. I hoped it was the lighting.

I stared at the exotic-looking tattoo. Mixed with my strong Cherokee features it seemed to brand me with a mark of wildness ... as if I belonged to ancient times when the world was bigger ... more barbaric.

From this day on my life would never be the same. And for a moment - just an instant - I forgot about the horror of not belonging and felt a shocking burst of pleasure, while deep inside of me the blood of my grandmother's people rejoiced. ~ P.C. Cast

One person's tattoo is nobody else's business ~ Don Ed Hardy

Keep smiling, I tell myself. It's all good. That's what my wrist tattoo says and you only ink permanent words on your person if you plan to live by them. ~ J.C. Lillis

Think for yourself. That's the golden rule. Think for yourself.
Make it your mantra. Tattoo it on the inside of your eyelids. ~ Jed McKenna

She's a classy girl though, at least all her tattoos are spelt right. ~ Chic Murray

Inside, they pretended they would dream, but they did not. They sprawled on the living room sofa and Adam studied the tattoo that covered Ronan's back: all the sharp edges that hooked wondrously and fearfully into each other.
'Unguibus et rostro,' Adam said.
Ronan put Adam's fingers to his mouth.
He was never sleeping again. ~ Maggie Stiefvater

Ouch." The yelp came out by accident as Trent went back over the bumps of her spine. Harper winced. Trent was doing his best to move the needle location around, she could feel that, but it was really starting to hurt.
She heard Trent put down his equipment and slide the stool around in front of her.
"This is the worst it's going to be, Harp. You're being so incredibly brave. I've had grown men cry at this point."
He paused for a moment before kissing her gently on the temple. "We have two options. I can stop in a minute and we can pick it up next time, or I can keep going for another twenty minutes and it will be done. The final appointments, then, will be short and sweet. Not to mention a whole lot less painful."
Harper took in a deep breath and blew it out harshly. Determined not to cry, she bit down on her lip hard. It stopped the pending deluge, but the tears still threatened.
"Oh darlin'." Trent kissed her softly. "I'd switch places with you in a heartbeat if I could. I know it hurts where I'm working."
Harper nodded. He understood. "Can you make it fifteen?"
Trent kissed the side of her eye, where a single tear was making a break for freedom.
"I'll do it in ten. ~ Scarlett Cole

Gilly frowned at me. "Ya know, stereotyping be a sign of limited intelligence. I might have asked ye where yer lower back tattoo be or yer lip piercing, but I didna." It folded its short little arms and cocked out one funky-shaped hip in a defiant stance. ~ Elle Casey

Thoughts of moonlight and silken hair evaporated in a black bolt of fury. Kaz saw Inej tug on the sleeve of her left forearm, where the Menagerie tattoo had once been. He had the barest inkling of what she'd endured there, but he knew what it was to feel helpless, and Van Eck had managed to make her feel that way again. Kaz was going to have to find a new language of suffering to teach that smug merch son of a bitch. ~ Leigh Bardugo

My favorite tattoo right now is the one on my lower stomach that reads "Almost Famous" because as my career grows I'm still humbled every morning when I look at that tattoo, and I'll always remember how much it sucked to ALMOST be famous. ~ Machine Gun Kelly

Congrats on the tattoo... and the fish. ~ Jessica Pennington

Confessions are like tattoos in that 1) You convince yourself that the immediate pain of going through the process means it won't bother you later on; 2) They are permanent. ~ Gina Barreca

You'll have to excuse Zo's manners. She was raised by a group of indigenous swamp wallabies and is at times uncomfortable conversing with civilized humans."
"Look, it's like this-" Zo started to say, but then she interrupted herself. "Swamp wallabies? ~ Jennifer Lynn Barnes

Every single job I do. It sounds goofy but I did a music video for Fergie. I was in full on tattoos, ponytail, but it's like even things like that they help other people to see you in a different light. They give me opportunities. I try and change the image with every job that I can, it's just hard when you work on a TV show and you work so many months and trying to get away from that. ~ Milo Ventimiglia

I wish I had a lot of tattoos. ~ Kristen Wiig

Was he curious about her?
That was putting it mildly. He was curious about the noises she might make if he kissed her properly and the colour of her nipples and what she tasted like between her legs and the extent of her tattoo and how she'd sounded as she came. He was curious about where she liked to be touched and whether she'd let him take charge and if she liked giving head. He was curious about the long curve of her spine and the dip of her hip and how she'd looked straddled atop of him, her hair loose, her breasts bouncing as he pushed her over the edge.
Or curled up beside him in bed, naked, her body branded by his. ~ Amy Andrews

You got a tattoo?" It's the third time I've asked Holder the same question, but I just don't believe it. It's out of character for him. Especially since I'm not the one who encouraged it. "Jesus, Daniel," he groans on the other end of the line. "Stop. And stop asking me why." "It's just a weird thing to tattoo on yourself. Hopeless. It's a very depressing term. But still, I'm impressed." "I gotta go. I'll call you later this week." I sigh into the phone. "God, this sucks, man. The only good thing about this entire school since you moved is fifth period. ~ Colleen Hoover

I wouldn't care if they tattoo Festus all over. He's been good to me. ~ Ken Curtis

Why do you haunt me? You, like a tattoo on my tongue, like the bay leaf at the bottom of every pan. You who sprawled out beside me and sang my horoscope to a Schubert symphony, something about travel and money again, and we lay there, both of our breaths bad, both of our underwear dangling elastic, and then you turned toward me with a gaze like two matches, putting the horoscope aside, you traced my buried ribs with your index finger, lingered at my collarbone, admiring it as one might a flying buttress, murmuring: Nice clavicle. And me, too new at it and scared, not knowing what to say, whispering: You should see my ten-speed. ~ Lorrie Moore

The mark of writing on me is so indelible, a tattoo would be redundant. ~ Marie-Helene Bertino

Me. Ya know, stereotyping be a sign of limited intelligence. I might have asked ye where yer lower back tattoo be or yer lip piercing, but I didna. ~ Elle Casey

Jesus, holy fuck," Rivera murmured, coming to a quick halt and looking up at the tall, hulking, tattoo-sleeved Ryker. "Boy, what'd your Mama feed you growin' up?" he asked.
"Newborn babies," Ryker answered, scowling down at Rivera. ~ Kristen Ashley

Wow," she said. "That's one sweet pussy tattoo. Only you could make that look manly. ~ Jenni Moen

Identity, though, is a difficult matter to tease out, especially in a time of flux. How to tell a spaniel from a retriever when all dogs have become middle-sized and brown? Should we go by some arbitrary blood quantum wherein half makes an Indian and forty-nine percent makes something else? Certainly forty-nine percent does not a whiteman make, at least not by the laws then prevailing in our state and most others. Or do we go by the old ways, the clans and the mothers, blood degree be damned? Or by what language someone dreams in or prays in or curses in? Or whether they cook bean bread and still tell the tales of Spearfinger and Uktena by the winter fire and go to water when they're sick? And what if they did all those things but were blond and square-headed as Norsemen? Or do we just hold a dry oak leaf to their cheeks and cull by whether they are darker or lighter? ~ Charles Frazier

Tattoos tell stories of crime and passion, punishment and regret. They express an outlaw, antiauthoritarian point of view and communicate a romantic solidarity among society's outcasts. ~ Douglas Kent Hall

The Tattoo. You wouldn't say "charming"
that was hardly the adjective, but something, there was something to him. If you were deep in self-hate but stained with ego enough that you needed your death-drive diluted, eager for muteness and quiet, your object-envy strong but not untouched by angst, you might succumb to the Tattoo's brutal enticement. ~ China Mieville

The real Harry thought that this might just be the most bizarre thing he had ever seen, and he had seen some extremely odd things. He watched as his six doppelgangers rummaged in the sacks, pulling out sets of clothes, putting on glasses, stuffing their own things away. He felt like asking them to show a little more respect for his privacy as they all began stripping off with impunity, clearly much more at ease with displaying his body than they would have been with their own. "I knew Ginny was lying about that tattoo," said Ron, looking down at his bare chest. "Harry, your eyesight really is awful," said Hermione, as she put on glasses. ~ J.K. Rowling

When You Return

Fallen leaves will climb back into trees.
Shards of the shattered vase will rise
and reassemble on the table.
Plastic raincoats will refold
into their flat envelopes. The egg,
bald yolk and its transparent halo,
slide back in the thin, calcium shell.
Curses will pour back into mouths,
letters un-write themselves, words
siphoned up into the pen. My gray hair
will darken and become the feathers
of a black swan. Bullets will snap
back into their chambers, the powder
tamped tight in brass casings. Borders
will disappear from maps. Rust
revert to oxygen and time. The fire
return to the log, the log to the tree,
the white root curled up
in the un-split seed. Birdsong will fly
into the lark's lungs, answers
become questions again.
When you return, sweaters will unravel
and wool grow on the sheep.
Rock will go home to mountain, gold
to vein. Wine crushed into the grape,
oil pressed into the olive. Silk reeled in
to the spider's belly. Night moths
tucked close into cocoons, ink drained
from the indigo tattoo. Diamonds
will be returned to coal, coal
to rotting ferns, rain to clouds, light
to stars sucked back and back
into one timeless point, the way it was
before the world was born,
that fresh, that whole, nothing
broken, nothing torn apart. ~ Ellen Bass

The dads in those tv shows spend a great deal of time talking to their kids in their living rooms. Steven Keaton - the dad of my dreams - seems to do nothing but sit on his couch or at his kitchen table talking to his children about their myriad teenage calamities. He listens and listens to his kids and he pours glasses of orange juice and hands them to his kids as he listens some more. He tells his kids he loves them by telling his kids he loves them. Dad tells me he loves me when he forms a pistol out of this forefinger and thumb and points it at me as he farts. He tells us he loves us by showing us the tattoo we never knew he had on the inside of his bottom lip: Fuck you. ~ Trent Dalton