Willowy Quotes

You need some help, Rosie?"
His footsteps quicken behind me, and before I can respond, I feel his calloused hands on my waist. I accidently slide back against his chest and inhale the scent that has always clung to his whole family - something like forests, damp leaves, and sunshine. I suppose when your father is a woodsman you're bound to carry the scent of oak in your veins. One breath is all I get the chance for, though; he kicks the door open and sets me down on the front stoop, then takes a step back. I turn to face him, hoping to thank him for the help and in the same sentence admonish him for carrying me like a little girl.
Instead, I smile. He's still Silas - Silas who left a year ago, the boy just a little older than my sister. His eyes are still sparkling and expressive, hair still the brown-black color of pine bark, body broad-shouldered and a little too willowy for his features. He's still there, but it's as if someone new has been layered on top of him. Someone older and stronger who isn't looking a me as if I'm Scarlett's kid sister . . . someone who makes me feel dizzy and quivery. How did this happen?
Calm down. It's just Silas. Sort of.
"You're staring," he says cautiously, looking worried.
"Oh. Um, sorry," I say, shaking my head. Silas shoves his hands into his pockets with a familiar sway. "It's just been a while, that's all."
"Yeah, no kidding. You're heavier than I remember."
I frown, mortified.
"Oh, no, wait. I di ~ Jackson Pearce

A princess," (Queen Sophia) would proclaim, "requires a graceful and willowy carriage, not the appetite of a swineherd. ~ Catherine Gilbert Murdock

Flower god, god of the spring, beautiful, bountiful,
Cold-dyed shield in the sky, lover of versicles,
Here I wander in April
Cold, grey-headed; and still to my
Heart, Spring comes with a bound, Spring the deliverer,
Spring, song-leader in woods, chorally resonant;
Spring, flower-planter in meadows,
Child-conductor in willowy
Fields deep dotted with bloom, daisies and crocuses:
Here that child from his heart drinks of eternity:
O child, happy are children! ~ Robert Louis Stevenson

Li, a willowy manboy with a shock of black hair atop a mouthful of bad teeth was the brother-in-law he had introduced to industrial espionage several years back. Rong often regretted that. ~ Michael Ben Zehabe

Nobody wears a black mask forever. ~ Willowy Whisper

Will I see you again?"
His grin had lost its wild flair. Instead, it was limp and very small. "Sure you will." A pause. "In my next movie." With one last look, he climbed in his car and drove away. ~ Willowy Whisper

Without needing told, without Jacob's lead, Akando dropped to his knees and lunged into the throne room of Christ. ~ Willowy Whisper

Game Over! In this country, we outnumber them by the hundreds of millions, yet in the end, they'll win. They've already won. Over decades, with the appetite of the greedy and the cunning of the wicked, their hired agents have built up a national archetype that's now unstoppable. While we were distracted by our own shadows, their needles pierced the national psyche, slow dripping the poison of mendacity into our nation's bloodstream. They contaminated the law with toxic corruption, and while invoking the name of freedom, they crushed any opposition with bone-cracking efficiency. When we finally peel away the submissive bandages that wrapped our imaginary wounds and promised us safety, we'll find our flesh gone to dust, leaving only a willowy skeleton of hopelessness and surrender. ~ Anonymous

He'd never shaken angry fists at the Savior his mother had taught him to respect. But God had never hurt him before. Not like this. ~ Willowy Whisper

Lady Helen, who had been accompanied by her husband, Mr. Rhys Winterborne, was far more reserved than the twins. Instead of Pandora's raw and radiant energy, or Cassandra's effervescent charm, she possessed a quality of sweet, patient gravity. With her silver-blonde hair and willowy slenderness, Helen seemed as ethereal as a figure form from a painting by Bougereau. ~ Lisa Kleypas

At a time when she was engaged to Stilton Cheesewright, I remember recording in the archives that she was tall and willowy with a terrific profile and luxuriant platinum blond-hair, the sort of girl who might, as far as looks were concerned, have been the star unit of the harem of one of the better-class sultans. ~ P.G. Wodehouse

A half-empty bottle of vodka sat on the bedside table, and his sketchbook was open on the king-size bed. Several sketches, only three of which looked finished, were scattered across the bedspread. Clearly he hadn't been sleeping either.

Swallowing, I picked up the nearest one. A dark-skinned, pale-haired child with an angel's wings - too old to be a cherub, more like a small boy - stood in the middle of a dark forest, looking around in terror. His hand was outstretched, reaching for a shadow disappearing off the edge of the page, the unknown figure walking away from him, leaving him behind.

I drew a shuddering breath and picked up the next one. In this one, that same angel - now a willowy adolescent, his thin, maturing body draped in the ubiquitous short toga with strapped sandals wound around his ankles - stood with his shoulders hunched in the midst of a crowd of jeering figures. He held an ornate harp cradled protectively against his body, trying to shield it from further harm. Its strings were sprung and its frame cracked and bent.

In the last one, an even more mature version of the angel - now a young man - knelt on one knee in another clearing in the woods. He was bruised and bleeding, his toga torn and stained. He held the bloody, tattered remnants of one of his wings, trying futilely to piece it back together. ~ Amelia C. Gormley

Nature did not make me willowy. ~ Dixy Lee Ray

Jacob crammed his eyes shut, listening to that feeble breathing, half expecting every breath to be the last. Lord, did You leave me for a purpose? ~ Willowy Whisper

I know I only have one arm, but I'd be proud to have you on it. ~ Willowy Whisper

To be beautiful you had to be willowy and tall. When you were as short as Clary was, just over five feet, you were cute. Not pretty or beautiful, but cute. ~ Cassandra Clare

Sometimes, I like to pick the brightest star and wish upon it. Pop always said to wish on falling stars, but I've never seen any."
"Me, neither." He paused and finally let himself look at her. "What do you wish for?"
Her cheeks turned a soft pink and she smiled. "If I told you," she whispered, "it wouldn't come true. ~ Willowy Whisper

Audrey let out a breath, turned the truck around, and didn't look back - except once. A famous movie star was waving her goodbye. ~ Willowy Whisper

On tiptoes the redhead wouldn't even reach my shoulders; she is clearly too young to be a bride. And the willowy girl is too forlorn. And I am too unwilling.
Yet here we are. ~ Lauren DeStefano

Jacob, what's wrong with you? Why would you want to do this? What kind of husband . . . what kind of man are you?"
"I don't know." Jacob's voice was a whisper. "But before I pledged myself to Annie, I pledged myself to God."
"I hope you know what you're doing." Montrose glanced back towards the kitchen. In their silence, they heard Annie's low sobs. "I hope it's worth it. ~ Willowy Whisper

I close my eyes, gripping the empty clothes closer to me, shaking my head against the truth.
I try to block out the words...
Try to stop them...
But they come, nonetheless, until finally I just stand here - not running, not even trying to escape. "You my dear, will suffer seven years of tribulation. You will be left behind... ~ Willowy Whisper

Knowledge doesn't exist in matters of the heart. ~ Willowy Whisper

After a minute a willowy woman with a baby boy came out. The baby was swinging a crystal from a string. I checked to see if he and I had a special connection that was greater than his bond with his mother. We didn't. ~ Miranda July

Now she took a close look at me for the first time, puffing on her pipe while the old woman beside her sighed. I didnt feel I could look at Mother directly, but I had the impression of smoke seeping out of her face like steam from a crack in the earth. I was so curious about her that my eyes took on a life of their own and began to dart about. The more I saw of her, the more fascinated I became. Her kimono was yellow, with willowy branches bearing lovely green and orange leaves; it was made of silk gauze as delicate as a spiders web. Her obi was every bit as astonishing to me. It was a lovely gauzy texture too, but heavier-looking, in russet and brown with gold threads woven through. The more I looked at her clothing, the less I was aware of standing there in that dirt corridor, or of wondering what had become of my sister and my mother and father and what would become of me. ~ Arthur Golden

Perhaps that had been one of the ineradicable faults of mankind - for even a convinced atheist had to admit there were faults - that it was never content with a thing as a thing; it had to turn things into symbols of other things. A rainbow was never only a rainbow; a storm was a sign of celestial anger; and even from the puddingy earth came forth dark chthonian gods. What did it all mean? What an agnostic believed and what the willowy parson believed were not only irreconcilable systems of thought: they were equally valid systems of thought because, somewhere along the evolutionary line, man, developing this habit of thinking of symbols, had provided himself with more alternatives than he could manage. Animals moved in no such channel of imagination - they copulated and they ate; but the the saint, bread was a symbol of life, as the phallus was to the pagan. The animals themselves were pressed into symbolic service - and not only in the medieval bestiaries, by any means.

Such a usage was a distortion, although man seemed unable to ratiocinate without it. That had been the trouble right from the beginning. Perhaps it had even been the beginning, back among the first men that man could never get clearly defined (for the early men, being also symbols, had to be either lumbering brutes, or timid noble savages, or to undergo some other interpretation). Perhaps the first fire, the first tool, the first wheel, the first carving in a limestone cave, had each possessed a ~ Brian W. Aldiss

I have a completely new knee. It's brilliant. I am not feeling my age at all. I feel about 43, a willowy blonde 43 years old with long legs. ~ Judi Dench

She unclenched her fist and stretched her hands. The sermon was a buzz in her ear, and every time she tried to listen, a stronger voice screamed in her head, What if you gave up the only chance you'll ever have for true love...? ~ Willowy Whisper

Brock sighed. "Alright then, Spunky. I was thinking about life, I guess."
Spunky grunted. "In other words, you were thinking about a woman."
"I didn't say that - "
"No." Spunky grinned knowingly. "But your face did. ~ Willowy Whisper

He walked to the exit, skirting the pools of vapor light purely out of habit, but he saw that the last lamp was unavoidable, because it was set directly above the exit gate. So he saved himself a further perimeter diversion by walking through the next-to-last pool of light, too. At which point a woman stepped out of the shadows. She came toward him with a distinctive burst of energy, two fast paces, eager, like she was pleased to see him. Her body language was all about relief. Then it wasn't. Then it was all about disappointment. She stopped dead, and she said, "Oh." She was Asian. But not petite. Five-nine, maybe, or even five-ten. And built to match. Not a bone in sight. No kind of a willowy waif. She was about forty, Reacher guessed, with black hair worn long, jeans and a T-shirt under a short cotton coat. She had lace-up shoes on her feet. He said, "Good evening, ma'am." She was looking past his shoulder. He said, "I'm the only passenger. ~ Lee Child