Angel On My Shoulder Quotes & Sayings

Long ago, I believed that, given a choice, peple would turn to good as they would turn to light. I believed that reporting-honest, unflinching pictutes of the truth-could be a becon to lead us to deamand that worongs be righted, injustices puniches, and the weak and inncoent cared for. I must have believed, when I started out, that the shoulder of public opinion could be put up against the door of public indifference and would, when given the proper direction, shove it wide with the power of wanting to stand on the side of angel. (Frances Bard) — Sarah Blake

I want you to tell me why you have a pair of broken angel wings on your shoulder. I want you to tell me why you cut your wrists and I want to know why and how you play and sing the way you do, but most of all I want you to tell me what I need to do to be a good enough man for you. — Christine Zolendz

And yet, even as I made these plans, there was a small dismayed corner of my heart. Like those stupid cartoons when you're a kid: little red devil on one shoulder and the little angel in his nightie on the other. My good angel was hiding his eyes. — Josh Lanyon

She had fallen asleep with her head on his arm, the clockwork angel, still around her throat, resting against his shoulder just to the left of his collarbone. As she moved away, the clockwork angel slipped free and she saw to her surprise that where it had lain against his skin it had left a mark behind, no bigger than a shilling, in the shape of a pale white star. — Cassandra Clare

But you see, I am in a similar situation. I do not control the little devil sitting on my left shoulder. The devil is saying, "PRINT THE PICTURE PRINT THE PICTURE TAPE IT UP ALL OVER SCHOOL DO IT DO IT DO IT." And then on my right shoulder, there is a little tiny white angel. And the angel is saying, "Man, I sure as **** hope all those freshmen get their money bright and early on Monday morning."
So do I, little angel. So do I. — John Green

I still don't like my freckles," I said desperately, trying to stop myself from falling completely under his spell. "Angel kisses." Corbin dropped a soft, open-mouthed kiss on my bare shoulder where there was a cluster of freckles. "That is what we used to call them. They're beautiful, just like the rest of you, Addison. — Evangeline Anderson

When you are lonely or frightened, talk to your guardian angel. You can do it out loud or inside your head, your angel can hear you. Ask your angel to be near you, to put his or her hand on your shoulder, to give you courage and protect you. — Joan Anderson

An angel sat on one shoulder, a devil on the other. Both of them wore my face. — Michelle Hodkin

The Archangel." I murmured. looking back over my shoulder at the ride, which had started its next ascent.
"It means high-ranking angel." There was a definite smugness to his voice. "The higher up, the harder the fall. — Becca Fitzpatrick

I've never had an angel on my right shoulder; I was born with a pointy-tailed devil, who crept back and forth across my neck to get his whispers into both my ears. — Joshilyn Jackson

Heed not Mephistopheles, my children, lest you suffer eternal damnation. When he whispers in your ear, turn away your head and hearken instead to the angel on your shoulder. — Harry Segall

When you drive down Cemetery Road, the angel appears to be looking directly at you. Yet once you pass the monument and look back over your shoulder, the angel is still looking at you. Thus the appellation: the Turning Angel. — Greg Iles

Gently, I ran my hand across his chest, exploring it. My breath felt tight in my throat. He was so beautiful. His muscles were toned, defined, his skin warm and smooth. Stroking my palm up over the line of his collarbone, I felt the firmness of his shoulder, the strength of his bicep. I traced my fingers over the black AK, following the lines of the letters. Alex hardly moved as I touched him, his eyes never leaving me.
Finally I sighed and dropped my hand. I tried to smile. "I've sort of been wanting to do that ever since that first night in the motel room," I admitted. — L.A. Weatherly

All I need is
backup. He's the little angel that sits on my shoulder whispering in my ear,
"You can do it!" It's funny. I'm thirty years old now and I still feel like a little
girl. I'm still looking around to check and see what other people are doing
to make sure I'm not completely different; I'm still looking around for help,
hoping for a quick nudge and a whisper of advice. But I can't seem to be able
to catch anybody's eye. Nobody else around me seems to be looking around
and wondering what to do. Why is it that I feel like I'm the only person who
is confused and concerned about the choices I've made and where I'm
headed? Everywhere I look, I see people just getting on with it. Maybe I
should just follow suit and get on with it. — Cecelia Ahern

They say that shoulder blades are where your wings were, when you were an angel," she said. "They say they're where your wings will grow again one day. — David Almond

Do it, Octavian" She ghosted the tips of her fingers along the hem of his shirt. "Touch me."
He growled low in his throat, his forehead dropping another inch toward her shoulder, his hair tickling the side of her face. "Be my angel, Riley, not my siren. Don't tempt me."
Moistening her lips with a sweep of her tongue, Riley glided her fingers over his belt, tracing the strip of leather to the silver buckle in the center. She felt rather than heard his deep inhalation and the tremor that raked his powerful body. Driven by his surrender, she used two fingers to walk over the square carvings etched into his abdomen, biting her lip to stop the grin that pulled when he groaned.
"I want to be both for you, Octavian," she whispered, letting her lips brush the curve of his shoulder. — Airicka Phoenix

Somewhere, the imaginary little shoulder angel and devil were having a conversation on their respective sides, the angel offering a gentle warning that this might not be a good idea, given all the drama, the complications. But the little devil, with its pudgy belly and pointy ears, was so comical that Holly almost laughed when he rolled his eyes at the angel and whispered, "Oh, whatever". — Melissa Senate

His intense blue gaze held hers, willing her to believe. She pulled in a shaky breath. Each second, he'd said. This second, then another, then another, until she believed all the time. She closed her eyes. She wanted to trust in him, in them. Why did it have to be so darn hard?

Using his hold on her wrist, he drew her closer, leaned down to rest his cheek against hers. "I'm yours," he murmured near her ear. "You have me. Believe that, baby."

She nodded and slipped her arms about his neck, holding on hard. "I'm trying."

"I know." He rested a hand against her spine, dropped a kiss on the curve of her shoulder. "One second at a time, Angel. We have all the time you need. — Linda Winfree

Throughout much of history, women writers have capitulated to male standards, and have paid too much heed to what Virginia Woolf calls "the angel in the house." She is that little ghost who sits on one's shoulder while one writes and whispers, "Be nice, don't say anything that will embarrass the family, don't say anything your man will disapprove of ... " [ellipsis in original] The "angel in the house" castrates one's creativity because it deprives one of essential honesty, and many women writers have yet to win the freedom to be honest with themselves. — Erica Jong

The devil on my right shoulder must have brutally strangled the angel on my left ... — Gena Showalter

I was thinking he was a hit man, like that," Angel said, looking over Savich's right shoulder, her voice calm. "I can see him blowing it, too. I mean even in bed he was always too fast off the mark, didn't really think things through, you know? No surprise he'd screw up a hit." "Did he tell you about this situation he had to handle?" Savich asked. He pulled a pack of sugarless gum from his pocket, offered her a stick. She took it, peeled the wrapper with long white fingers, stuck it into — Catherine Coulter

Jill told me that when you're really in love, you know right away. I'm not exactly sure how this happens. Is it like a flash of lightning? Like an angel tapping you on the shoulder? Or is it similar to choosing a puppy? You think you're picking the cutest one, but really you wind up going home with the one who keeps insisting on climbing into your lap. — Alice Hoffman

Bryan pressed her closer against him and placed her arms to circle his neck from behind. He moved a little faster and Zahara fell into step, laying her head against his shoulder and closing her eyes to drown out the crowd. She focused on the hard muscles of Bryan's chest, his heated breath against her hair, and his fingers gripping her waist. She absently wondered if it was wrong that an angel was dancing inside of a club full of youth, and if this was as weird and exhilarating for him as it was for her. Bryan spun her around to face him and kissed her. He wasn't as gentle as he usually was, digging his hand into her hair and nibbling on her bottom lip. Zahara whimpered and moved her fingers underneath his shirt, digging her fingers into his back. ~Zahara and Bryan — Annabell Cadiz

Zachariah, Zachariah,' whispers Rachel, casting a practised eye over the back of his head and down the length of him, from the shoulder blades where his wings once grew, epochs ago, in some other guise: angel - guardian, avenging - or great vagrant bird - Daurian Jackdaw, Chimney Swift, Pacific Loon! — Emma Richler

I feel like I'm stuck in a bad movie, with a little devil sitting on one shoulder and an angel on the other. But the goddamn devil is twice the size and my angel is a fucking mute. Great, I have a fucking mute angel. — Vi Keeland

Something's different," Carlos continued. "Tonight you came in with no scowling or growling. Why the
change?"
Robby shrugged one shoulder. "I'm trying to convince you I'm no' crazy. If I kept doing the same thing when it
wasna working, would that no' be crazy?"
"Good point." Carlos rinsed the bowl and placed it in the dishwasher. "So you're trying a new strategy tonight."
Robby removed the bottled blood from the microwave and filled a glass. "Tonight I saw an angel."
Carlos's eyes widened. "And you're still trying to convince me you're not crazy? — Kerrelyn Sparks

Mon Mothma walks among the wreckage, attendants on each side of her: Hostis Ij to her left, and Auxi Kray Korbin on her right. Each serving the role of angel and demon on her shoulder (though the role is never fixed and one becomes the other depending on the situation). Behind them, four New Republic soldiers walking with blaster rifles at the ready. This — Chuck Wendig

Good luck, man." Wraith clapped him on the shoulder. "For an angel, you don't suck." "Ditto. For a demon ... well, you do suck." "Because I'm half vampire?" "Sure," Reaver said. "Let's go with that. — Larissa Ione

I write first drafts with only the good angel on my shoulder, the voice that approves of everything I write. This voice does'nt ask questions like, Is this good? Is this a poem? Are you a poet? I keep this voice at a distance, letting only the good angel whisper to me: Trust yourself. You can't worry a poem into existence. — Georgia Heard

Any other town you go to there's this little devil and a little angel on your shoulder. A little good advice, a little bad advice.You go to Las Vegas, there's like a devil and a devil and they're just battling it out the whole time. It's like, "Smoke some crack!" "Get a hooker!" And then I go, "YEA! Yea, this is a good town. Smoke some crack and get a hooker! Alright! — Bill Burr

The migraine angel leaned hard on my shoulder and belched into my face. — Hilary Mantel

Mr. Worthington,
I understand that you do not control Chuck and Jasper.
But you see, I am in a similar situation. I do not control the little devil sitting on my left shoulder. The devil is saying, "PRINT THE PICTURE PRINT THE PICTURE TAPE IT UP ALL OVER SCHOOL DO IT DO IT DO IT." And then on my right shoulder, there is a little tiny white angel. And the angel is saying, "Man, I sure as shit hope all those freshmen get their money bright and early on Monday morning." So do I, little angel. So do I.
Best Wishes,
Your friendly Neighboorhood Nemesis. — John Green

My favorite track from the album Independent is Hold On. Everyone at some point fights battles or has struggles, and in moments of doubt or defeat, this is the song coming from a place of never giving up. It makes me think of the angel on the shoulder voicing understanding but guiding you in the right direction to take you out of that dark place. — Mya

This girl has an air of innocence about her and it gives me pause for a moment, wondering if this siren could actually be untouched. If I were any kind of gentleman, I would leave her alone and forget I ever met her. But, I'm a bastard with a devil on my shoulder making a damn good case as to why I want to be the one to corrupt her. I kicked the angel to the curb years ago and even if I hadn't, it would be out numbered. Between the devil and my cock, it's a clear win. I am going to fuck this woman tonight and if I have my way, it will only be the start. — Aria Cole

Shuttered like a fan no-one suspects your shoulder blades of wings. While you lay on your belly I kneaded the hard edges of your flight. You are a fallen angel but still as the angels are; body light as a dragonfly, great gold wings cut across the sun. — Jeanette Winterson

In Paris the swaying lanterns are lit in the streets; lights shine through water, fuzzy, diffuse. Saint-Just sits by an insufficient fire, in a poor light. He is a Spartan after all, and Spartans don't need home comforts. He has begun his report, his list of accusations; if Robespierre saw it now, he would tear it up, but in a few days' time it will be the very thing he needs. Sometimes he stops, half-glances over his shoulder. He feels someone has come into the room behind him; but when he allows himself to look, there is nothing to see. It is my destiny, he feels, forming in the shadows of the room. It is the guardian angel I had, long ago when I was a child. It is Camille Desmoulins, looking over my shoulder, laughing at my grammar. He pauses for a moment. He thinks, there are no living ghosts. He takes hold of himself. Bends his head over his task. His pen scratches. His strange letterforms incise the paper. His handwriting is minute. He gets a lot of words to the page. — Hilary Mantel

But this is one of the things that makes rap at its best so human. It doesn't force you to pretend to be only one thing or another, to be a saint or a sinner. It recognizes that you can be true to yourself and still have unexpected dimensions and opposing ideas. Having a devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other is the most common thing in the world. The real bullshit is when you act like you don't have contradictions inside you, that you're so dull and unimaginative that your mind never changes or wanders into strange, unexpected places. — Jay-Z

Alex gazed at her. Her mouth was slightly open; she ran her fingernail against her lower teeth as she thought. She'd knotted her hair at the nape of her neck again, and a strand had slipped loose onto her shoulder, gleaming in the lantern light. Suddenly all of his objections seemed meaningless. Don't, he thought. You'll regret it.
He didn't care anymore.
Slowly, unable to stop himself, he reached out and cupped his hand around her foot. — L.A. Weatherly

The glow dies down, and she's standing at the end of my bed
the one who's been following me around leaving feather messages. I take in the torn fishnets, plaid mini-kilt, shiny, riveted breastplate with leather straps at the sides and a worn Great Temolo decal near the left shoulder. Her wings are a crazy black-and-white-checkered pattern, like they've been spray-painted at a body shop to look like hipster sneakers. — Libba Bray