Under His Skin Quotes

A twisted, pale figure writhing in agony, chest bare and hideous. Tight, rigid cords of sickly green veins webbed across the boy's body and limbs, like ropes under his skin. Purplish bruises covered the kid, red hives, bloody scratches. His bloodshot eyes bulged, darting back and forth. ~ James Dashner

Everything in his life backfired. First that rocket at Waterloo. Then his engagement. Now this whole blasted arrangement with Emma. Despite the supposedly impersonal nature of their marriage, she was slowly working her way under his skin, under his scars. If not deeper. ~ Tessa Dare

When he sleeps,
the snoring does not bother me:
the rhythmic growl, gravel shoved
across the sidewalk of his throat.
It is the grasping, desperate way
in which he takes in air - his gulping lungs
as if every dream is filled with water
and he is trying to inflate
the life jacket under his skin.
I babble in my sleep. He believes
I am trying to tell him how my heart works,
says he will translate the manual one day.
I want to ask him: am I the ocean?
Are you drowning in everything
I don't say when I'm awake?
- Heart Apnea ~ Sierra DeMulder

Every human being has hundreds of separate people living under his skin. The talent of a writer is his ability to give them their separate names, identities, personalities and have them relate to other characters living with him. ~ Mel Brooks

Ever since she'd come home from school three years ago, she'd been burrowing under his skin, itching like a host of chigger bites. He kept telling himself not to scratch, but invariably he did anyway, fool that he was. And here he was scratching again, thinking about her when he should be focused on the work at hand. He ~ Karen Witemeyer

... What do you want, Ash?"
"Your head," Ash answered softly. "On a pike. But what I want doesn't matter this time." He pointed his sword at me. "I've come for her."
I gasped as my heart and stomach began careening around my chest. He's here for me, to kill me, like he promised at Elysium.
"Over my dead body." Puck smiled, as if this was a friendly conversation on the street, but I felt muscles coiling under his skin.
"This was part of the plan." The prince raised his sword, the icy blade wreathed in mist. "I will avenge her today, and put her memory to rest." For a moment, a shadow of anguish flitted across his face, and he closed his eyes. When he opened them, they were cold and glittered with malice. "Prepare yourself."
"Stay back, princess," Puck warned, pushing me out of the way. He reached into his boot and pullet out a dagger, the curved blade clear as glass. "This might get a little rough."
"Puck, no." I clutched at his sleeve. "Don't fight him. Someone could die."
"Duels to the death tend to end that way." Puck grinned, but it was a savage thing, grim and frightening. "But I'm touched that you care. One moment, princeling," he called to Ash, who inclined his head. Taking my wrist, Puck steered me behind the fountain and bent close, his breath warm on my face.
"I have to do this, princess," he said firmly. "Ash won't let us go without a fight, and this has been coming for a long time now." For a moment, a shadow of regret fl ~ Julie Kagawa

The unresolved heart worked against him in life, but it connected him to the world of poetry, where he allowed (in)complete strangers under his skin. ~ Morrissey

Ridges of muscle on his stomach rose under his skin like divisions on a slab of chocolate. He held her close by the light of an oil lamp, and he shone as though he had been polished with a high-wax body polish. ~ Arundhati Roy

Theirs was a closeness that went way beyond physical proximity. She was under his skin. Moving closer to his heart.
He just didn't know it yet, because no one else had ever found the pathway before. ~ Kitty French

You look a bit tired,love; haven't you been sleeping well?"
"I've been sleeping just fine," she lied. "I was out late last night." Deliberately she turned to him. "On a date."
Alan controlled the swift surge of jealousy. Her ability to push the right buttons to get under his skin was no longer a surprise.He met the simmering gray eyes briefly. "Have a good time?"
"I had a marvelous time. David's a musician, very senstive.Very passionate," she added with relish. "I'm crazy about him." David might have been surprised, as he was engaged to one of Shelby's closest friends, but she doubted the subject would come up again. "As a matter of fact," she continued with sudden inspiration, "he's coming by to pick me up at seven.So, I'd appreciate it if you'd just turn around and take me home."
Instead of obliging as she hoped or raging as she expected, Alan glanced at his watch. "That's too bad.I doubt we'll be back by then." While Shelby sat in stony silence he pulled up to the curb. "Better put on your jacket; we'll have to walk half a block." When she neither moved nor spoke, he leaned across her as if to open the door. His mouth brushed over her ear. "Unless you'd like to stay in the car and neck. ~ Nora Roberts

The drums were so near that the beat crept under his skin and set his hands to twitching. ~ George R R Martin

Aylin had gotten under his skin, and for all his experience fighting enemies, he had no defense against a female whose strength humbled him, whose voice soothed him, and whose touch drove him wild. ~ Larissa Ione

He couldn't say why Captain Gray got under his skin the way she did. Though strong and well made, she was no great beauty, compared to the women he'd been introduced to at court. Yet, when they were together, she elbowed everything else out of his mind.

"Matelon?"

He looked up, and she was studying him with her amber eyes. Did she know that she had this effect on him? He prayed to all the gods she did not. ~ Cinda Williams Chima

Now she looked at him. She didn't soften. Or smile. If anything, she had become a little of the ground on which they stood. Cold and lovely. But won der poured out of her eyes. Won der and something like . . . relief. And if he thought there was fi re under his skin earlier, it was nothing compared to now. Now he had swallowed the sun. Now the world had stopped lurching forward and begun an impossible dance. ~ Roshani Chokshi

I hear people talking about the feeling they get when they pain stuff in illegal places. Leo says he gets this fast-moving fear swinging through him, running from his heart to everyplace under his skin. I pain to get the thoughts in me out. I paint so it gets quiet under my skin. ~ Cath Crowley

Learn to know every man under you, get under his skin, know his faults. Then cater to him - with kindness or roughness as his case may demand. ~ John McGraw

To study the enemy you have to get under his skin. When you're under his skin you start to see the world through his eyes. ~ Terry Pratchett

Kaden leaned against the doorframe, running his fingers through his dark hair. He was barefoot and shirtless, wearing only a pair of gray sweatpants. His upper body was tanned and cut to perfection. A sparse patch of dark hair covered the center of his chest while a thin line ran down the middle of his stomach muscles. Oh, sweet baby Jesus, his stomach. She'd seen professional athletes on television with an eight-pack but hadn't thought normal people could actually achieve them. Her fingertips tingled with the urge to run her fingers over each of his pecs. ~ Stacey O'Neale

I steal things."
"You do what?"
She wanted to smile at the incredulous tone. "Is stealing worse than killing? I thought it was all bad."
"You just surprised me." He didn't flinch at her candid assessment of what he did, but it bothered him - and people's opinions didn't bother him. He had his own moral code, a code of strict honor. It shouldn't matter what she said . . . but it did. She wasn't accusing or even judgmental, just matter-of-fact and perhaps that was what got under his skin. That she just accepted what he was. One-dimensional, as if that was all he was. And all he would ever be. ~ Christine Feehan

Lucky Harris was getting to him. His sexy little captive had gotten under his skin. He wanted
her, and yet he could not bring himself to discipline and dominate her as he knew she secretly
desired. For the first time since the death of his traitor wife, Sebastian was afraid, afraid of his own
feelings. The bright-eyed blonde affected him as no woman ever had. It wasn't just her responsive
cries or her tempting body; it was her strong opinions, her outrageous attitude, that irreverent sense of humor. Lucky made him laugh, but it was more than that.

She made him feel alive. ~ Carol Storm

The boy swelled up, and his skin filled with pockets of blood. In some places, the skin almost separated from the underlying tissue. This happened during the last phase, while he was on the respirator. It is called third spacing. If you bleed into the first space, you bleed into your lungs. If you bleed into the second space, you bleed into your stomach and intestines. If you bleed into the third space, you bleed into the space between the skin and the flesh. The skin puffs up and separates from the flesh like a bag. Peter Cardinal had bled out under his skin. ~ Richard Preston

How this woman had managed to get under his skin and claw her way inside was a mystery.
He couldn't leave her there though. His entire being was screaming at him to get her out. ~ Caroline Cairn

There was a reason he'd avoided Angel Smith. Already, she'd started seeping under his skin, making him feel things he preferred not to think about.

And it felt so good it scared him. ~ Adriana Anders

Why this girl? Why had this girl crawled right under his skin and made an uncomfortable home there? Why did he want to make things good for her, to see her smile, to make her face
and her voice make all those interesting shapes and noises? Why did he want to stay up late with her when he knew she should be sleeping, just to hear her talk about maths and politics and the
state of the world?
This was not Quentin. Quentin did not like skinny girls. He didn't like serious girls. And he really hated bossy girls.
Quentin loved curvy, fun, uncomplicated girls; girls who laughed at his jokes and took off their bras when they danced on tables. If they wore bras at all. Yet here he was, washing up and mopping and feeling like five kinds of an arsehole over hurting the feelings of some skinny, serious, bossy girl. ~ Ros Baxter

It's funny how you get under his skin."
At first, I'm not sure I heard him right. I almost ask whom he's talking about, because I can't quite believe he's admitting that high and mighty Cardan is affected by anything. "Like a splinter?" I say.
"Of iron. No one else bothers him quite the way that you do. ~ Holly Black

I pop another piece of donut in my mouth and smile. "It's fine. I won't tell a soul you checked me out."
"I wasn't - " He clears his throat. "Forget it. You're ridiculous."
I'm grinning outright now, because that's two you're ridiculouses this morning, and when he takes to repeating himself, I know I've successfully gotten under his skin.
Georgie, one; Andrew Mulroney, Esquire, zero. ~ Lauren Layne

At home, a man is entitled to raise his voice maybe once a year, if something really gets under his skin. At work, it's different. I raise my voice all the time. Not out of malice, but to get things right. It's never personal. ~ Charlie Trotter

He cupped her face in his hands, crushing his lips into hers. Angry and raw after all these months, he couldn't hold himself back any longer. It wasn't gentle or sweet. It was powerful and full of need. A quiet moan escaped from her throat, inciting another rushing wave of desire through him. Her lips parted, inviting his tongue inside her mouth. ~ Stacey O'Neale

Pru had gotten under his skin, and like her, he wanted more. So much more. He wanted to know her secrets, the ones that sometimes put those shadows in her eyes. He wanted to know what made her tick. And more than anything, he wanted to taste her again.
Every inch of her. ~ Jill Shalvis

I wanted to ask you more questions about your hallucination."
"Please tell me it's the one I have where you mistake my body for a popsicle."
She let out a short laugh. "Where did that come from?"
Easy. The image he had in his head right now of her naked in his bed.
"A bear can dream, can't he?" "A bear can dream. But those dreams can also get him skinned."
"Will you be naked when you skin me?"
She shook her head. "Does everything come back to being naked?"
"Not everything. Just when a beautiful woman's involved and only if I'm really lucky ... Any chance I might get lucky tonight?"
She let out a short "heh" sound. "You sure you're a bear and not a horn dog?"
He laughed. "Believe it or not, I'm not usually quite this bad."
"Why don't I believe you when you tell me that?"
"Probably because I've been really bad tonight." He winked at her. "I'll stop. You said you have a question that unfortunately does not involve nudity? ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

Ambrose's eyes shoot back to Charlotte and he nods. "She's changed, hasn't she? Charlotte, I mean."
"Um, besides growing her hair long she doesn't seem to have changed much to me," I say, trying not to smile. "Why?"
"It's just that she seems so ... in charge. I mean, she's always had her act together, but ever since she's been back she's seemed more confident or something. And now that she's Vincent's second ... I guess I've always thought of her as a little sister. You know, the huggable kind you want to take care of. But now that I see her working with him and taking control ... I mean ... the girl is fierce."
Ambrose's face shines with respect and a sort of curious awe, and I have to restrain myself from jumping up and cheering for the fact that it has finally happened. He has finally noticed what was right under his nose. ~ Amy Plum

The fact that Cooper Dayton was running down the side streets of Bethesda and not driving back to D.C. by now was proof that his father had been dead wrong. His haircut was plenty professional. Too professional, even. How else could Ben Pultz have made him as a federal agent from thirty feet away and taken off running? Not from his jeans and T-shirt. Not from the weapons carefully hidden under his intentionally oversized jacket. It had to be the bureau-regulation hair. Apparently Pultz didn't think he looked like a "boy band reject," though Cooper doubted his dad, Sherriff Dayton, would be swayed by the opinion of a fleeing homicide suspect. ~ Charlie Adhara

He wanted her nails in his back and her tongue in his mouth and her hips rocking under his until he came so hard he saw stars. Then he wanted to sleep with her in his arms afterward. And wake up and eat and make love again. And talk in the dark about things both stupid and serious - Oh, God. He was bonding with her. The bonding thing was happening. ~ J.R. Ward

She was his princess. No. She was his goddess. With her golden skin and golden hair. She was his light. His life. His everything.
He loved her more than anything else in this world. ~ Morgan Rhodes

He kissed my lips, his skin warm in spite of the cool winter wind whipping past us. His whisper would have been lost on me before, but now I heard every word. "What do you want, Raven? ~ Lisa Kessler

Riker's gaze shifted down. To her throat. Then his mouth shifted down. To her throat. Boris's face flashed in front of her eyes, and panic squeezed her heart in a cold fist. Like she had so many years ago, she tried to fight, but Riker held her easily, pinned to the wall with his weight. As his lips closed over her skin, she stopped breathing and waited for the rip of his teeth. Instead, there was only a warm sweep of his tongue and, with it, the most bizarre and disturbing sense of pleasure. ~ Larissa Ione

She had sworn to herself not to speak to Arin, but then he said, "You're coming with me to the harbor."
This surprised her into saying, "To do what? Why not lock me up in the barracks? It would be a perfect prison for your prize."
He continued to walk her down the halls of her home. "Unless Cheat changes his mind about you."
Kestrel imagined the auctioneer unlocking her cell door. "I suppose I'm no good to you dead."
"I would never let that happen."
"What a touching concern for Valorian life. As if you hadn't let your leader kill that woman. As if you're not responsible for the death of my friends."
They stopped before the door to Kestrel's suite. Arin faced her. "I will let every single Valorian in this city die if it means that you don't."
"Like Jess?" Her eyes swam with sudden, unshed tears. "Ronan?"
Arin looked away. The skin above his eye was beginning to blacken from where she had kicked him. "I spent ten years as a slave. I couldn't be one anymore. What did you imagine, tonight, in the carriage? That it would be fine for me to always be afraid to touch you?"
"That has nothing to do with anything. I am not a fool. You sold yourself to me with the intention of betrayal."
"But I didn't know you. I didn't know how you--"
"You're right. You don't know me. You're a stranger."
He flattened a palm against the door.
"What about the Valorian children?" she demanded. "What have you done with them? Have they been poi ~ Marie Rutkoski

He got out a tube and since she'd yet to put the sweater on, squeezed ointment onto his fingers and began to gently rub it on her abraded skin. She recognized the scent.
"That's for horses."
"So?"
She laughed and let him fuss. "Does this make me your mare now?"
"No, you're too young and delicate of bone for that. You're still a filly."
"Are you going to train me, Donnelly?"
"Oh, you're out of my league, Miss Grant." He glanced up, cocked a brow when he saw her grinning at him. "And what amuses you?"
"You can't help it can you? You have to tend."
"I put the marks on you," he muttered as he smoothed on the ointment. "It follows I should see to them."
She lifted a hand to toy with the ends of his damp, gold-tipped hair. "I like being seen to by a man with a tough mind and a soft heart."
That soft heart sighed a little, ached a little. But he spoke lightly. "It's no hardship running my fingers over skin like yours." With his eyes on hers, he used the pad of his thumb to spread ointment over the gentle swell of her breast. "Particularly since you don't seem to have a qualm about standing here half naked and letting me."
"Should I blush and flutter?"
"You're not the fluttering sort. I like that about you." Satisified, he capped the tube, then tugged the sweater over her head himself. "But I can't have such a fine piece of God's work catching a chill. There you are." He lifted her hair out of the neck.
"You don't have ~ Nora Roberts

Buddha once saw a jackal, a wild dog, run out of the forest where he was staying. It stood still for a while, then it ran into the underbrush, and then out again. Then it ran into a tree hollow, then out again. Then it went into a cave, only to run out again. One minute it stood, the next it ran, then it lay down, then it jumped up. The jackal had the mange. When it stood, the mange would eat into its skin, so it would run. Running, it was still uncomfortable, so it would stop. Standing, it was still uncomfortable, so it would lie down. Then it would jump up again, running to the underbrush, the tree hollow, never staying still. The Buddha said, "Monks, did you see that jackal this afternoon? Standing, it suffered. Running, it suffered. Sitting, it suffered. Lying down, it suffered. It blamed standing for its discomfort. It blamed sitting. It blamed running and lying down. It blamed the tree, the underbrush, and the cave. In fact, the problem was with none of those things. The problem was with his mange." We are just the same as that jackal. Our discontent is due to wrong view. Because we don't exercise sense restraint, we blame our suffering on externals. Whether we live in Thailand, America or England, we aren't satisfied. Why not? Because we still have wrong view. Just that! So wherever we go, we aren't content. But just as that jackal would be content wherever it went as soon as its mange was cured, so would we be content wherever we went once we rid ourselves of wrong vi ~ Ajahn Chah

Every day time stopped and Sobran saw Xas, the sun reflecting off his raised wings, white chest watermarked by tears dried in fine dust; bare skin and colourless nipples, as innocent as a child's; the double signature, seagreen and vermilion, awake and vivid; a whitelipped white face and eyes, abysmal, inimical, like the sea seen through holes in an icefield. It was like being in love, this remembering, because Sobran couldn't put Xas out of his mind. And it was like shame. Because he grew so tired defending himself from the pain of this one recollection, Sobran forgot everything else he knew about the angel. ~ Elizabeth Knox

It didn't help that Oscar showed up in my dreams constantly ... I kept telling him to get actual, that he'd died, and he'd say, No no, honey, you got it all wrong. Oh, man, look at my hand. And I'd look at his hand that he held out, and I'd grab it, reaching out in dreamtime, doubting him, and it was there all right, but the touch of it, the tight tough skin exactly like Oscar's, would startle me with terror and love, and I'd wake up by myself in my apartment in the dark like a flashlight you've just switched on, with the traffic moving on the street outside the window and the headlights lighting the ceiling, and this big broken hole in me that Oscar had left behind, by dying. ~ Charles Baxter

And the darkness of John's sin was like the darkness of the church on Saturday evenings[ ... ] It was like his thoughts as he moved about the tabernacle in which his life had been spent; the tabernacle that he hated, yet loved and feared[ ... ] The darkness of his sin was in the hardheartedness with which he resisted God's power; in the scorn that was often his while he listened to the crying, breaking voices, and watched the black skin glisten while they lifted up their arms and fell on their faces before the Lord. For he had made his decision. He would not be like his father, or his father's fathers. He would have another life. ~ James Baldwin

His gaze, blunted
by the unnumbered procession
of iron bars, uncounted
as his softly padded steps.
Smooth motion of blood and sinew
turning in its own, small circle
prescribed by bars and walls
... and skin, confined.
Suddenly, without warning,
a flash of light and image
pierces the caged brain,
and passing through its beating heart
to stillness finds its way. ~ Rainer Maria Rilke

A man dies and his skin loses heat like the sand on a summer evening. It makes you feel like warming him up. ~ Erri De Luca

On good days, Quinn and Eugene regard each other as pieces of strange furniture brought in by Yula to add further clutter to the house. Eugene likens his grandfather to a bookshelf put in front of a window, blocking all light, and Quinn thinks the boy is like a footstool pushed carelessly to the centre of the room, a booby trap, something to trip over and skin one's knee. Whirling around them like a dishcloth after dust is Yula, who serves them soup and wonders why her father and son can't see each other as she sees them. ~ Marjorie Celona

He gazed deeply into my eyes. Placing his hand to my cheek, he caressed my skin with his fingertips. "Ariel, you have a strength that cannot be hindered by anything. A strength that I admire greatly." - Luca ~ Victoria H. Smith

It is doubtful whether our present system of popular education does not retard independent or self thinking as much as it promotes it. All genuine education is self-education. It will incite the individual to think for himself, by rethinking what the race's great thinkers have already thought for him, thus enabling him to go ahead under his own mental steam. ~ Joseph Alexander Leighton

The candles illuminated the room and his murals of tattoos...There were muscles everywhere, protruding from his skin and framing him like armor; his body was long and wide, full of valleys, deep creases and ink. He looked like a deviant. A beautiful, dangerous deviant. ~ -Latrivia Nelson Dmitry's Closet

The main courtyard was filled with warriors - mermen with fish tails from the waist down and human bodies from the waist up, except their skin was blue, which I'd never known before.Some were tending the wounded. Some were sharpening spears and swords. One passed us, swimming in a hurry. His eyes were bright green, like that stuff they put in glo-sticks, and his teeth were shark teeth. They don't show you stuff like that in The Little Mermaid. ~ Rick Riordan

I settled for soothing as many of his hurts as I could with my love. Perhaps if I kissed every square inch of him, if I whispered enough words of love into his skin as I held him as close as humanly possible, it would be a start. ~ Anna Lee Huber

You and me," he echoed, tilting my face up to his.
I stared back into his eyes. They were clear of sleep and nightmares now.
"Always." I told him, my lips curving into a smile. That had been his line once, now it was mine.
"Always," Balik murmured against my jawbone the words grazing my skin as I arched my neck backwards. "You and me, always." His whisper mingled with the kisses he brushed along my throat. I closed my eyes and drifted away with him. ~ Melanie Cusick-Jones

Relying on the face might be human nature - even babies prefer to look at attractive people. But, of course, judging someone based on the geometry of his features is, from a moral and legal standpoint, no better than judging him based on the color of his skin. ~ Paul Bloom

He had used drugs and nanonic supplements to compensate at first, then supplements became replacements, with bones exchanged for carbon-fibre struts. Electrical consumption supplanted food intake. The final transition was his skin, replacing the eczema-ridden epidermis with a smooth ochre silicon membrane. Warlow didn't need a spacesuit to work in the vacuum, he could survive for over three weeks without a power and oxygen recharge. His facial features had become purely cosmetic, a crude mannequin-like caricature of human physiognomy, although there was an inlet valve at the back of his throat for fluid intake. There was no hair, and he certainly didn't bother with clothes. Sex was something he lost in his fifties. ~ Peter F. Hamilton

My name...my name is Mary. I'm here with a friend.'
Rhage stopped breathing. His heart skipped a beat and then slowed. "Say that again,' he whispered.
'Ah, my name is Mary Luce. I'm a friend of Bella's...We came here with a boy, with John Matthew. We were invited.'
Rhage shivered, a balmy rush blooming out all over his skin. The musical lilt of her voice, the rhythm of her speech, the sound of her words, it all spread through him, calming him, comforting him. Chaining him sweetly.
He closed his eyes. 'Say something else.'
'What?' she asked, baffled.
'Talk. Talk to me. I want to hear your voice.'
She was silent, and he was about to demand that she speak when she said, 'You don't look well. Do you need a doctor?'
He found himself swaying. The words didn't matter. It was her sound: low, soft, a quiet brushing in his ears. He felt as if here being stroked on the inside of his skin.
'More,' he said, twisting his palm around to the front of her neck so he could feel the vibrations in her throat better.
'Could you... could you please let go of me?'
'No.' He brought his other arm up. She was wearing some kind of fleece, and he moved the collar aside, putting his hand on her shoulder so she couldn't get away from him. 'Talk.'
She started to struggle. 'You're crowding me.'
'I know. Talk.'
'Oh for God's sake, what do you want me to say?'
Even exasperated, her voice was beautiful. 'Anything.'
'Fine. Get you ~ J.R. Ward

They know we're here." He turns to Galen. "What do you think?"
Galen scratches the back of his neck. "It's a trap."
Toraf rolls his eyes. "Oh, you think so?" He shakes his head. "I'm asking if you think Musa is in on it."
Galen is not very familiar with Musa. He's only talked to her a handful of times, and that was when he was very young. Still, out of all the Archives who seemed to support Jagen and his monumental act of treason, Musa's face does not come to mind. "Would she be?"
Toraf shrugs. Woden scowls. "With much respect, Highness, Musa is an Archive. She will not forsake her vows to remain neutral."
It takes all of Galen's willpower to bite his tongue. Woden is still naïve enough to believe that all the Archives are of a pure and unbiased mind. That they do not get tangled up in emotions such as greed, ambition, and envy. Did Woden attend the same tribunal I did?
Toraf slaps Woden on the back. "Then you don't mind going first?"
The Poseidon Tracker visibly swallows. "Oh. Of course not. I'm happy to-"
"Oh, let's get on with this," Galen says, snatching the spear from Woden's unsuspecting grasp. This seems to embarrass the young Tracker. Galen doesn't have time for embarrassment.
"Yes, let's," Toraf says. "Before the humans get those disgusting wrinkles on their skin." He nudges Woden. "It's probably the most horrific thing I've ever seen. And I've seen lots of things."
It's the first time Galen realizes that Woden's nerv ~ Anna Banks

I'm not so jaded I don't remember," she said, eyes shifting away from his. "That feeling, like everything is broken. Breaking."
She placed a hand in his, and lifted the other to touch his neck, lightly. He twitched at first, then relaxed. He still had a mark there where Suzao had choked him in the cafeteria.
Then she was moving her fingers back toward his ear, along the scar Ryzek had cut into his neck, and he was leaning into her touch. He was warm, too warm. They never touched like this. He never thought he wanted them to.
"You make no sense to me," she said.
Her palm was on his face, then, her fingers curled behind his ear. Long, thin fingers with tendons and veins always standing at attention. Knuckles so dry the skin was peeling in places.
"All that has happened to you would make another person hard and hopeless," she said. "So how…how are you even possible?"
He closed his eyes. Aching.
"Still, Akos, this is a war." She brought her forehead to his. Her fingers were firm, fitted to his bones. "A war between you and the people who destroyed your life. Don't be ashamed of fighting it."
And then a different kind of ache. A pang of longing, deep in his gut.
He wanted her.
Wanted to run his fingers along her strict cheekbone. Wanted to taste the elegant birthmark on her throat, and to feel her breaths against his mouth, and to wind her hair around his fingers until they were trapped.
He turned his head, and pressed his lip ~ Veronica Roth

He touched the tender skin of her palm and swiped a dot of blood off the tip of her finger. Without thinking, he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her finger. She drew in a sharp breath but didn't make an effort to pull away from him. He met her gaze. The silkiness in the depths sent a tremor through his body. He pressed his lips against her smooth skin again, tasting the saltiness of her blood. His lips brushed a path to her palm, and in the tender, moist middle he pressed another kiss. Her chest rose and fell in rapid succession, but she still made no move. Instead, she watched him, almost as if she was remembering the kiss he'd given her on their wedding day, the same kiss that still haunted him. Maybe it was past time for him to give her another. ~ Jody Hedlund

Sometimes, as now, her heart twisted and broke under his determination to wound her. At others, she was almost convinced that she felt nothing more for him, that he had overdrawn on her endurance: then she would stay silent for awhile, almost at peace, beyond his reach, not knowing whether she had been utterly vanquished or become completely invincible. However, it required merely some slight attention on his part to restore all her apprehensions - for these extremes of feeling only existed within the compass of her love."
"In One's Own House ~ Shirley Hazzard

Put it this way, how do you feel about the supernatural?"
"I'm fine with it," Molly replied coolly. "I used to watch Charmed and Buffy and all those shows."
Gabriel winced slightly. "This isn't quite the same thing."
"Okay, well, listen to this. Last week my horoscope in Cosmo told me I was going to meet an enchanting stranger
and this guy on the bus gave me his phone number. I'm a total believer now."
"Yeah, you've really seen the light," Xavier said under his breath.
"Did you know that Sagittarians have a problem with sarcasm?" Molly snapped.
"That would be very enlightening, except I'm a Leo."
"Yeah, well, everyone knows they're a pack of assholes!"
"My God, you're like talking to a rock."
"You're a rock! ~ Alexandra Adornetto

His entire aspect was menacing, starting with his chilling eyes and the pronounced bone structure of his face. He was tall and lean, but the skin on his arms was stretched over muscles that looked as taut as whipcord. The backs of his hands were bumpy with strong veins. His clothes and hair had snagged natural debris - twigs, sprigs of moss, small leaves. He seemed indifferent to all that, just as he did to the mud caked on his boots and the legs of his jeans. He smelled of the swamp, of sweat, of danger. ~ Sandra Brown

I'm sorry about the floor," she whispered. "I hope you'll be able to fall asleep." "Oh, I won't be able to sleep, and it won't be because of the floor." Heat splashed over her, sending a fresh flush over her skin. Her mind scrambled to find an appropriate answer, but she could think of nothing except the softness of his hands. "Good night, Priscilla," he whispered. ~ Jody Hedlund

A doctor's reputation is made by the number of eminent men who die under his care. ~ George Bernard Shaw

This Administration has led us into an area without vision. Bush has no clear understanding of what is being asked of the citizens, and the military is under his direction. ~ Martin Sheen

The pouches under his eyes were like purses that contained the smuggled memories of a disappointing life. ~ Graham Greene

Matthias was in the dark. And it wasn't the kind of dark that came with a room that didn't have any lights on or when you were walking around at night in the country. This was not even the kind you got when you shut your eyes and wrapped your head in a blanket.

This was the one that seeped in through your skin and filled the spaces between your molecules, the one that polluted your flesh into a permanent state of rotting, the one that wiped clean your past and your future, suspending you in a choking, adhesive solution of sorrow and despair.

He was not alone in this horrible prison.

As he writhed in the weightless void, others did the same, their voices mixing with his own as pleas escaped from cracked lips and the endless begging for mercy rose and fell like the breathing of a great beast. From time to time, he was chosen for special attention, clawed monsters with fanged maws latching on, yanking and pulling. The wounds they imparted always healed as quickly as they were wrought, providing an ever-fresh canvas for their masticating artwork.

Time had no meaning; nor did age. And he knew he was never getting out.

This was his due.

This was his eternal payment for the way he had lived his life: He had earned this place in Hell through his sins upon the earth, and yet still, he argued the unfairness to the others he was trapped with. Tough debate, though. There was little on the good side to support his bid for f ~ J.R. Ward

To this point, he could not really have said that he loved William. Feel the terror of responsibility for him, yes. Carry thought of him like a gem in his pocket, certainly, reaching now and then to touch it, marveling. But now he felt the perfection of the tiny bones of William's spine through his clothes, smooth as marbles under his fingers, smelled the scent of him, rich with the incense of innocence and the faint tang of shit and clean linen. And thought his heart would break with love. ~ Diana Gabaldon

This is the God of the gospel of grace. A God who, out of love for us, sent the only Son He ever had wrapped in our skin. He learned how to walk, stumbled and fell, cried for His milk, sweated blood in the night, was lashed with a whip and showered with spit, was fixed to a cross, and died whispering forgiveness on us all. ~ Brennan Manning

But, sir!" Andy protested. "I don't know what happened to it. I didn't do anything with my desk. Did you see me move it?" "My vision is not in question, young man. You expect me to believe your desk simply vanished?" "I don't know what happened to it. I just know I didn't do anything with it." Then, not quietly enough under his breath, Andy added, "You need to get your eyes examined. ~ L.R.W. Lee