Bad Brow Quotes & Sayings

More than my questions about the efficacy of social actions were my questions about my own motives. Do i want social justice for the oppressed or do i jusy want to be known as a socially active person? I spend 95 percent of my time thinking about myself anyway. I dont have to watch the evening news to see the world is bad, i only have to look at myself. I am not brow beating here, i am only saying that true charge , true living giving, God honoring change would have to start with the individual. I was the very problem i had been protesting. I wanted to make a sign that read I am the problem — Donald Miller

Moving on was always the end plan.
New York,he remembered, was a fair distance away.It should be far enough. As for tonight, he was going to have a shot of whiskey in his tea to help smooth out the edges. Then by God, he was going to sleep if he had to bash himself over the head to accpmplish it.
And he wasn't going to give Keeley another thought.
The knock on the door had him cursing under his breath.Though she'd been doing well,his first worry was that the mare with bronchitis had taken a bad turn.He was already reaching for the boots he'd shed when he called out.
"Come in,it's open.Is it Lucy then?"
"No,it's Keeley." One brow lifted, she stood framed in the door. "But if you're expecting Lucy,I can go."
The boots dangled from his fingertips, and those fingertips had gone numb. "Lucy's a horse," he managed to say. "She doesn't often come knocking on my door. — Nora Roberts

Let us help."
"You already did." My voice didn't betray anything. "Both of you helped plan this. You lent me this
car. Aubrey put up the funds."
He raised his brow. "Lending you this car doesn't count as helping. It was more like public service.
If you drove your car, the noise would wake up all of Haverleau."
"It's not that bad - "
"Yeah, if you want to be as obvious as a rhinoceros."
I gave a pointed look at his lime-green coat and bright maroon sweater.
Talk about burning my retinas. "Pot calling kettle."
He glanced at himself. "It's seasonal. I look Christmasy. — Emma Raveling

Picker studied Quick Ben as they trudged up yet another grass-backed hillside. 'You want us to get someone to carry you, Mage?'
Quick Ben wiped the sweat from his brow, shook his head. 'No, it's getting better. The Barghast spirits are thick here, and getting thicker. They're resisting the infection. I'll be all right, Corporal.'
'If you say so, only you're looking pretty rough to me.' And ain't that an understatement.
'Hood's warren is never a fun place.'
'That's bad news, Mage. What have we all got to look forward to, then?'
Quick Ben said nothing.
Picker scowled. 'That bad, huh? Well, that's just great. Wait till Antsy hears.'
The wizard managed a smile. 'You tell him news only to see him squirm, don't you?'
'Sure. The squad needs its entertainment, right? — Steven Erikson

Deacon pressed his lips together. "That bad, huh?"

"I didn't say it was bad."

He arched a brow. "I know you, Aiden. Your disappointment - in yourself, not Alex - is written all over you. It's practically dripping from your grubby face."

My brows rose. "I'm grubby?"

"You're kind of gross. Might want to think about shaving, too, unless you're going for the homeless look with no chance of getting laid."

I laughed and stood. "I'll keep that in mind. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

If it makes some of you so uncomfortable you want to start shit with me about it, step right up and see if I don't eat the hell out of you next!"
I'd meant that last part as a threat, but somewhere in my impassioned declaration of independence from hiding what I was, I'd neglected to think through my phrasing. I saw Bones raise a brow, a muffled snicker broke out from Ian, and then Vlad laughed loud and hearty.
"With that sort of invitation, Reaper, you might want to suggest the line form to your right."
"That's not ... I meant eat them in a bad way," I sputtered.
"I think you made your point, luv," Bones responded, his face carefully blank even thought I caught a faint twitch to his mouth. — Jeaniene Frost

She pulls her hand away and Damian feels the sensation of falling, a somersault into a foreign abyss where a girl with eggplant hair and a hoop in her brow waits in the darkness. — Christy A. Campbell

At the top of the cellar steps Broadman knelt down and fumbled in his tinderbox. It turned out to be damp.
'I'll kill that bloody cat,' he muttered, and groped for the spare box that was normally on the ledge by the door. It was missing. Broadman said a bad word. A lighted taper appeared in mid-air, right beside him.
HERE, TAKE THIS.
'Thanks,' said Broadman.
DON'T MENTION IT.
Broadman went to throw the taper down the steps. His hand paused in mid-air. He looked at the taper, his brow furrowing. Then he turned around and held the taper up to illuminate the scene. It didn't shed much light, but it did give the darkness a shape ...
'Oh, no - ' he breathed.
BUT YES, said Death. — Terry Pratchett

(As Ash left the house, the back door slammed shut, catching the tail end of his long black coat. Ash jerked to a stop and cursed. Nick howled with laughter at the sight of Acheron trapped.)
Don't it take the bad-ass right out of you? (Nick)
(Ash arched a brow. The door opened by itself, freeing his coat, then it slammed shut again. Nick sobered instantly.)
And that puts it right back in you. (Nick) — Sherrilyn Kenyon

Do you need help with anything?" he asked with a wicked arched brow. "Maybe with cookies for Santa."
Scowling because no one was here but us, I said, "You're a bit late for that. Santa already came."
He hadn't moved, but I knew better than to think he would. Flynn was a pro at filling the bubble air space that was meant to be private and personal. "And were you a good girl?" he asked.
Awkwardly folding my arms over my chest, I said, "Not sure, I haven't checked. But you needn't look. We all know you are all bad."
Laughing, he said, "Yeah, well, there are other things worth unwrapping."
Grinding my teeth, I asked, "What, you didn't get your Ho, Ho, Ho, last night?"
Tossing back another full belly laugh, he said, "You know you're kind of funny when you want to be. — Shannon Dermott

All that summer, as I end up in his flat over and over, drinking his wine, having his bad pervy sex, and then lying on the bed, talking about Auden's influence on Morrissey, I feel like we're in a huge, ongoing surreal session of the Post-it Game, in which Rich has stuck a Post-it on my head on which is written either "My girlfriend" or "Not my girlfriend," and I am having to guess which it is with a series of questions that he can only answer yes or no. This whole situation seems like a massive societal problem. Why have we not yet discovered a way to find out if someone's in love with you? Why can't I press a litmus paper to Tony's sweaty brow, when we're fucking, and see if it turns pink for love - or blue for casual fuck? Why is there no information on this? Why has science not attended to this matter? — Caitlin Moran

I don't know how to be a boyfriend," he warns me.
I cock a brow at him, smiling. "That's too bad ... since I have a PhD in girlfriendology from the University of So Many Feelings. — Ann Aguirre

He smiled that Frank smile. "Oh, but my treasure, it is so much less exhausting. You only have to forgive once. To resent, you have to do it all day, every day. You have to keep remembering all the bad things." He laughed, pretending to wipe sweat from his brow. "I would have to make a list, a very, very long list and make sure I hated the people on it the right amount. That I did a very proper job of hating, too: very Teutonic! No" - his voice became sober - "we always have a choice. All of us. — M.L. Stedman

I suppose I could walk back.The house isn't that far away."
He lifted a black brow at her. "You'd rather walk a mile than ask me to take you back?"
The answer was absolutely yes, but she wasn't going to embarrass them both by saying it. At least she had an excuse to avoid such close contact with him, which she really didn't think she could handle. Being this close to him was bad enough because it was reminding her about that kiss the other night ... — Johanna Lindsey

I believe you owe me a token, my lady. Or do you wish me to extend credit?"
"What, and have you claim I owe you some further recompense?" she declined with a scornful laugh as she flipped him a wooden chip.
"Definitely not!"
Christopher sighed in exaggerated disappointment. "Too bad. I was looking forward to collecting."
"You always are," she murmured as he leaned forward to pick up the chip.
"You can hardly fault me there." His tone was equally soft as his eyes caressed her warmly. "You sorely test my restraints, my lady."
"Restraints?" She raised a delicate brow in disbelief. "I have seen no evidence of such."
"Madam, if you really knew, you'd think me a scoundrel."
"I already do."

-Christopher & Erienne — Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

Can we get out of here?"
"Your chariot awaits."
"In the form of a blue Ford ute?" I curved my brow.
"But of course," he said in an over-the-top French accent.
"Sacre blur, bad accent alert!"
"Wow," he said, "Le rude?"
"Le sorry?"
"Le hurt." Toby clutched his heart.
"What can I do to soothe your shattered ego?"
Toby drummed his chin thoughtfully, pacing around me. He stopped just near enough to whisper in my ear.
"Le kiss? — C.J. Duggan

The writer is a definite human phenomenon. He is almost a type - as pugilists are a type. He may be a bad writer - an insipid one or a clumsy one - but there is a bug in him that keeps spinning yarns; and that bulges his brow a bit, narrows his jaws, weakens his eyes and gives him girl children instead of boys. Nobody but a writer can write. People who hang around writers for years - as producers did - who are much smarter and have much better taste, never learn to write. — Ben Hecht

An intercom popped on and Paris dais, "Knock. Knock."
Static and then a woman's voice said, "Who's there?"
Kat raised a brow at me, and I shrugged.
"The interruption cow," Paris said, glancing at Luc, who shook his head.
From the intercom, "The inter-"
"Moooooo!" Pars dais, snickerin.
Kat giggled.
Archer rolled his eyes and shook his head.
There was an audible huff from the intercom. "That was stupid. The gate is opening. Give ist a sec."
"That was pretty lame" I said.
Paris chuckled. "I saw it on the Internet. Made me laugh. I got more. Want to hear them?"
"No." My rebuttal was joined by Archer's. Something we agreed on. Huh. Go figure.
"Too bad." Paris eased forward as the gated split, spreading wide. "That wasn't even my best one. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

The bad leaders are the ones that push hard so they can gain, who brow beat us so that they can receive the benefit of our hard work, not so we can enjoy the success — Simon Sinek

An overweight officer, having delivered a batch of children to the home, started telling one of the guards about his heart problem. "You think you want to be a cop, but you don't, because it kills you," said the officer, mopping his brow. Then he told of another officer with a lung problem, and one who had cancer, and of others who were stress-sick, and of how none of them earned enough to afford decent doctors. Abdul hadn't previously thought of policemen as people with hearts and lungs who worried about money or their health. The world seemed replete with people as bad off as himself, and this made him feel less alone. — Katherine Boo

Scarlet: "But you're bleeding
pretty bad ... and you're probably in a lot of pain - "
Tristan: "I'm fine."
Scarlet raised a brow. "Fine. Bleed to death. Whatever. — Chelsea Fine

World's freakiest bloodsucker, right here," I went on. "And you know what? If it makes some of you uncomfortable, too bad. If it makes some of you so uncomfortable you want to start shit with me about it, step right up and see if I don't eat the hell out of you next!"
I'd meant that last part as a threat, but somewhere in my impassioned declaration of independence from hiding what I was, I'd neglected to think through my phrasing. I saw Bones raise a brow, a muffled snicker broke out from Ian, and then Vlad laughed loud and hearty.
"With that sort of invitation, Reaper, you might want to suggest the line form to your right."
"That's not ... I meant eat them in a bad way," I sputtered. — Jeaniene Frost