Waggling Quotes

Snow, here?" Eric was as delighted as a child. "I love snow!"
Why was I not surprised?
"Maybe we will get snowed in together," he said suggestively, waggling his blond eyebrows. ~ Charlaine Harris

It's ok, man," I said with amusement. "You know what they say, it's not the size of the wave, it's the motion of the ocean." He stood up and started re-racking the weights for the next person. "Oh, but when you have a giant wave that moves just right . . . it's the best feeling your woman can ever have," he said, his eyebrows waggling up and down. ~ M.E. Carter

Nice job denuding your face, by the way," she said, waggling her fingers under her chin to indicate his shave. "I'd forgotten what it looked like under there."

He grimaced. "Oh. Well, I'm sorry to have to remind you, but it itched."

"What are you talking about, sorry? You have an excellent face," she said, examining him. "It isn't pretty, but there are other ways for a face to be excellent."

He touched the sharp angle of his nose. "I do have a face," was about as far as he was willing to go.

"Lazlo," called Eril-Fane from across the room. "Gather everyone, will you?"

Lazlo nodded and rose. "Consider yourself gathered," he informed Calizte, before going off in search of the rest of the team. ~ Laini Taylor

As if he could read her mind, Chad chose that very moment to look up from his What to Expect book.
"Says here some women get really horny when they're pregnant," he said, waggling his eyebrows with a shit-eating grin.
"It does not!" Jennie said, feeling two hot spots form on her cheeks.
How does he know?
"Does too. They don't phrase it that way, but that's essentially it. Anything you need help with, Jennie? Any cravings I can take care of for you?" Chad laughed as he leaned in suggestively.
"Gah! ~ Lori Ryan

Seriously, though. You're probably right. I'm sure Kelly finds the sight of a scrawny, pasty, white dude flopping around in the water like a spastic salmon very hot.' Coop convulses his whole body, his arms flailing, his tongue waggling. ~ Don Calame

I went from being just a kid to all of a sudden not being able to walk a block without a man waggling his tongue through his fingers, which is disgusting. I mean, I was 13 and suddenly I'm trying to see myself through the eyes of men, trying to figure out why I'm getting this reaction from them versus just being able to walk through the world whole. ~ Rose McGowan

A few days later, I found myself back in the cellar. But this time, I was involved in an activity way more fun than cataloging magic junk.
"What happened to the promise of making out in castles?" I asked as Archer and I pulled back for a breather. I was leaning back against one of the shelves, my hands clutching Archer's waist. Over his shoulder, there was a jar of eyeballs staring at me, and I nodded toward it. "Because, see, things like that? Kind of a mood killer."
He glanced at the jar and then turned back to me, waggling his eyebrows. "Really? I find it has the opposite effect."
Giggling, I elbowed him in the stomach and pushed myself off the shelf. "You're sick."
He smiled and ducked his head to kiss me again, but I skirted around him. "Come on, Cross, we came down here for a reason, and it wasn't fooling around."
Smirking, Archer folded his arms over his chest. "May not have been your reason, but-"
I cut him off. "No. Don't distract me with your sexy talk. We need to search this place, and that spell Elodie did will only last so long." Elodie had swooped into my body at the cellar door, doing a quick spell to unlock it. She hadn't even looked at Archer, much less said anything. And the second the lock clicked open, she'd vanished.
The smirk disappeared from Archer's face, and he actually looked kind of sullen.
"Are you honestly that bummed about not hooking up right now?" I teased.
But he was deadly serious when he shook his ~ Rachel Hawkins

An image of Luc's face flashed on my screen, his finger waggling. "Time to go outside!" it said. "Time to go outside!" I tried to silence it, reduce the volume, and turn off the phone, but to no avail. Luc had definitely created a reminder for our outdoor guarding duties - and there was no way to turn it off. I grimaced at the phone and showed it to Ethan. "We have a monster on our hands. ~ Chloe Neill

You should stop by the shop. I'll make you up a special Welcome-To-Marietta chocolate basket for Samara. She'll love it."
Of course. He should have thought of it himself.
"She's got this salted caramel thing that will earn you major points," said Dawson. "the ladies love it."
"I shouldn't say this in church." Sage looked down, and dropped her voice to a whisper. "But it's been called orgasmic."
With that word, for a split second, everyone around him disappeared. Logan imagined putting a tiny square of rich, smooth candy onto Samara's tongue, watching her lips move as she savored it, kissing her, sharing the sweet, silky heat. What sound would she make when the flavor hit the back of her mouth? Would she moan? Would she ask for more? "It's a gift that keeps on giving," added Dawson, waggling his eyebrows. ~ Roxanne Snopek

Only some, mind you, she said coyly, raising her index finger, waggling it at us. But they were Godless, and that can make all the difference, don't you agree? I ~ Margaret Atwood

Feir said, "All we have to do is find Ezra's secret entrance to Black Barrow, find Ezra's workshop and his gold tools, find seven broken mistarille swords, rediscover a forging technique every present-day Maker's day Mays is a myth, find one giant ruby, and avoid detection by a couple of hundred Vürdmeisters plotting gods know what."

"Oh," Antoninus said, waggling his great, single kohled eyebrow, "here I thought it was going to take all winter. ~ Brent Weeks

We had good cake," I tell Caleb. "We had fizzy drinks," he says. "Ah, but did you have a ledge overlooking an underground river?" says Marlene, waggling her eyebrows. "Or a room where you faced all your nightmares at once?" "No," says Caleb, "and to be honest, I'm kind of okay with that. ~ Veronica Roth

Did you make the crawl of shame?"
I open one eye and smirk, "What?"
She pulls back the covers and plucks my t-shirt, "What is this?"
I swallow and stretch and moan a little, "My…" I clear my throat, "Uhm...t-shirt."
I make duck lips and watch her.
She arches her eyebrow and shakes her head, pointing at my shirt and waggling her finger. "Nuh uh. No. I know all your dirty skeezy little orphan clothes and this shit isn't yours." She bats her eyelashes blankly, "Spill bitch. ~ Tara Brown

Boswell, like Lecky (to get back to the point of this footnote), and Gibbon before him, loved footnotes. They knew that the outer surface of truth is not smooth, welling and gathering from paragraph to shapely paragraph, but is encrusted with a rough protective bark of citations, quotations marks, italics, and foreign languages, a whole variorum crust of "ibid.'s" and "compare's" and "see's" that are the shield for the pure flow of argument as it lives for a moment in one mind. They knew the anticipatory pleasure of sensing with peripheral vision, as they turned the page, gray silt of further example and qualification waiting in tiny type at the bottom. (They were aware, more generally, of the usefulness of tiny type in enhancing the glee of reading works of obscure scholarship: typographical density forces you to crouch like Robert Hooke or Henry Gray over the busyness and intricacy of recorded truth.) They liked deciding as they read whether they would bother to consult a certain footnote or not, and whether they would read it in context, or read it before the text it hung from, as an hors d'oeuvre. The muscles of the eye, they knew, want vertical itineraries; the rectus externus and internus grow dazed waggling back and forth in the Zs taught in grade school: the footnote functions as a switch, offering the model-railroader's satisfaction of catching the march of thought with a superscripted "1" and routing it, sometimes at length, through abandoned stations and submerged, ~ Nicholson Baker

My name's Bassington-Bassington, and the jolly old Bassington-Bassingtons - I mean the Bassington-Bassingtons aren't accustomed - "
Old Blumenfeld told him in a few brief words pretty much what he thought of the Bassington-Bassingtons and what they weren't accustomed to ...
"You got to work good for my pop!" said the stout child, waggling his head reprovingly at Cyril.
"I don't want any bally cheek from you!" said Cyril, gurgling a bit.
"What's that?" barked old Blumenfeld. "Do you understand that this boy is my son?"
"Yes, I do," said Cyril. "And you both have my sympathy!"
"You're fired!" bellowed old Blumenfeld, swelling a good bit more. "Get out of my theatre! ~ P.G. Wodehouse

I heard the Candor made ice cream," says Marlene, twisting her head around to see the lunch line. "You know, as a kind of 'it sucks we got attacked, but at least there are desserts' thing."
"I feel better already," says Lynn dryly.
"It probably won't be as good as Dauntless cake," says Marlene mournfully. She sighs, and a strand of mousy brown hair falls in her eyes.
"We had good cake," I tell Caleb.
"We had fizzy drinks," he says.
"Ah, but did you have a ledge overlooking an underground river?" says Marlene, waggling her eyebrows. "Or a room where you faced all your nightmares at once?"
"No," says Caleb, "and to be honest, I'm kind of okay with that."
"Si-ssy," sings Marlene.
"All your nightmares?" says Caleb, his eyes lighting up. "How does that work? I mean, are the nightmares produced by the computer or by your brain?"
"Oh God." Lynn drops her head into her hands. "Here we go. ~ Veronica Roth

I wrapped my arms around his waist. "You called me your girl." I nodded, waggling my eyebrows. "And," I continued, "you'd better believe this little wallflower will cut a bitch with that knife of yours if anyone lays a hand on you. ~ Penelope Douglas

Look, you came all the way out here to help me. The least I can do is give you a place to stay. But my dad will be there, so ... "
"So we have to be quiet," he whispers, waggling his eyebrows comically.
I just smile. I neither confirm nor deny that there will be more sex. But there will be. If he tries very hard at all, there definitely will be. ~ M. Leighton

Stop it!" she hissed. I frowned and rubbed my arm. "What are you talking about?" I whispered back. Riley pointed at me, waggling her finger. "I know that look on your face! You're picturing him naked with you naked. ~ A. Meredith Walters

Simon picked a dagger completely at random, then sat at his desk waggling it about.
Jon nodded to it. "Nice."
"Yeah," Simon said, nodding back and gesturing with it. "That's what I thought. Nice. Very stabby."
He stabbed the dagger into the desk, where it got stuck and Simon had to pry it out of the wood. ~ Cassandra Clare

We already have the Wooden Pillar, the Steel Pillar and the Plastic Pillar. In a moment we will have the Golden Bail ... '
No, you won't.'
We will,' stated the robot simply.
No, you won't. It makes my ship work.'
In a moment,' repeated the robot patiently, 'we will have the Golden Bail ... '
You will not,' said Zaphod.
And then we must go,' said the robot, in all seriousness, 'to a party.'
Oh,' said Zaphod, startled, 'can I come?'
No,' said the robot, 'we are going to shoot you.'
Oh, yeah?' said Zaphod, waggling his gun.
Yes,' said the robot, and they shot him.
Zaphod was so surprised that they had to shoot him again before he fell down. (85-86) ~ Douglas Adams

Let us take our tongues and stick them out and waggle them in the wind. Let us walk, loving, let us walk and love, walking along, loving. ~ Meia Geddes

Buying a fly rod in the average city store, that is, joining it up and safely waggling it a bit, is much like seeing a woman's arm protruding from a car window: all one can readily be sure of is that the window is open. ~ John D. Voelker