Bare Body Quotes & Sayings

We must also teach science not as the bare body of fact, but more as human endeavor in its historic context - in the context of the effects of scientific thought on every kind of thought. We must teach it as an intellectual pursuit rather than as a body of tricks. — Isidor Isaac Rabi

For the first few months, I was a comically inept parent. The first night home from the hospital, I held her bare body against my bare chest until a friend who was a doctor came by and asked what I was doing, and told me to put some clothes on that baby. — Nick Flynn

That is one fine female, true?" V said.
There was a low, affirmative grumble.
"And someone you do not want to mess with," the brother continued. "Man, you should have seen her when we came into that barn. She was standing over his body, ready to take the cop and me on with her bare hands if she had to. Like Wrath was her cub, you feel me?"
"Wonder if she has a sister?" Rhage asked.
Phury laughed. "You wouldn't know what to do with yourself if you ran into a female of worth."
"This coming from you, Celibate?" But then Hollywood rubbed the stubble on his chin, as if considering the ways of the universe. "Ah, hell, Phury, you're probably right. Still, a male can dream."
"He sure can," V murmured. — J.R. Ward

We have certain rules for traditional lyric poetry in Korea. I twist my body, confused by what to say and how to act, facing these rules. Confronting traditional lyricism, I speak with a bare body without the tattoos of culture on it. — Kim Hyesoon

Ack! I'm blind. Old man dick alert. Cover it up. She protested with her mouth, yet her eyes remained locked on his bare body. He swelled up to an even mightier size. Good grief. Just how big does that thing get? Should I duck and cover before it explodes? — Eve Langlais

Someone tapped me on the shoulder; I spun around to see Asher and ten other Vamps standing behind him. All of the Vamps were dressed in military fatigue. Asher smiled and looked down at my bare legs, he shook his head.
"Why Kitten, what did I miss?"
I dropped my head. "You wouldn't happen to have something for my legs?"
Besides, I thought, only having a shirt on sucks and was a little chilly. Asher chuckled, a deep sound that washed over my body sending shivers up and down my spine. His laugh spoke of bad things he wanted to do to me. I hated it with a passion; I didn't want anything intimate with Asher. Never, ever again.



~Asher & Charlie~ — J.L. Clayton

He lifts my hand from the root and presses it to his bare chest, over his heart. My breath stops. I wonder if he can feel the pulse racing in my wrist, because it's beating just as quickly as his heartbeat.
"Do you know the Ai'oan word for heart?" he asks.
I shake my head.
"It's py'a." We're so close, his whisper is right in my ear, and his breath warms the side of my neck. "You are my heart, Pia"
I lick my lips. When did they get so dry?
His other hand cradles the back of my head, tipping my face upward. "A body can't live without a heart. And I can't live without you. — Jessica Khoury

He threw her a crooked grin as he removed his shirt completely, revealing a torso that seemed too perfectly muscular and finely honed to be real. Unbearable tension knotted inside her, and she struggled with inhibition and modesty as he bent over her. "Shall I stop now?" he asked, cuddling her against his long body. "I don't want to frighten you."
Her cheek pressed against his shoulder, and she relished the exhilarating sensation of pressing her bare skin against his. She had never felt so vulnerable, so willing to be vulnerable. "I'm not afraid," she said, her voice dazed and wondering, and she withdrew her hands from between their bodies, so that her breasts pushed directly against his chest.
An aching sound came from his throat, and he buried his face against her throat, kissing her, working his way downward. — Lisa Kleypas

The angel's lower body was covered by a pair of faded jeans that showcased the strong muscles in his thighs ... along with a few other things she'd only dared dream about. His upper body was bare, showing off honeyed skin, washboard abs, and a killer set of pecs. — Rosalie Lario

She wanted his swollen length in her hand, in her mouth, in her c#nt. She writhed against him, bare feet slapping on the floor as he spun around and propelled her backward.
Her arse hit the door first. His hips ground against her second. He fucked her mouth with his tongue, plundering, taking, possessing. And all the while his hands raked her body. Under her shirt, over her ribs, capturing her breast. She moaned, the sound turning to a cry when he pulled her pyjama top over her head and tossed it aside. — Lexxie Couper

The real Harry thought that this might just be the most bizarre thing he had ever seen, and he had seen some extremely odd things. He watched as his six doppelgangers rummaged in the sacks, pulling out sets of clothes, putting on glasses, stuffing their own things away. He felt like asking them to show a little more respect for his privacy as they all began stripping off with impunity, clearly much more at ease with displaying his body than they would have been with their own. "I knew Ginny was lying about that tattoo," said Ron, looking down at his bare chest. "Harry, your eyesight really is awful," said Hermione, as she put on glasses. — J.K. Rowling

I want a woman, Dad. I want somebody to love me. I wanna to be free again. I wanna walk in the backyard on the grass. I wanna put my bare feet in the ocean. I wanna run along the sand and feel it on my feet. I wanna stand up in the shower with the hot water streaming down my legs, in the morning...I wanna explode, Dad. I wanna get out of this fucking body I'm in. I wanna be a man again...I just wanna be a man again. — Ron Kovic

Glued them to me. It was like tearing off duct tape. With a harsh wrench, I went on my back. "Sorry," he said, though he didn't sound sorry. He finished taking off my pants and straightened. His arms slipped under my legs and around my back, collecting me in his arms. My cold, bare skin burned where it touched his warm body. The numbness of most of my skin kept — Stacey Marie Brown

Now take a human body. Why wouldn't you like to see a human body with a curling tail with a crest of ostrich feathers at the end? And with ears shaped like acanthus leaves? It would be ornamental, you know, instead of the stark, bare ugliness we have now. Well, why don't you like the idea? Because it would be useless and pointless. Because the beauty of the human body is that is hasn't a single muscle which doesn't serve its purpose; that there's not a line wasted; that every detail of it fits one idea, the idea of a man and the life of a man. — Ayn Rand

This new brand of mastery, of dominance that demanded she bare her soul, not just surrender her body, gave him a terrible power over her. — Renee Rose

Listen to a woman speak at a public gathering (if she hasn't painfully lost her wind). She doesn't "speak," she throws her trembling body forward; she lets go of herself, she flies; all of her passes into her voice, and it's with her body that she vitally sup- ports the "logic" of her speech. Her flesh speaks true. She lays herself bare. In fact, she physically materializes what she's thinking; she signifies it with her body. In a certain way she inscribes what she's saying, because she doesn't deny her drives the intractable and impassioned part they have in speaking. Her speech, even when "theoretical" or political, is never simple or linear or "objectified," generalized: she draws her story into history. — Helene Cixous

The Page awaits the Inspiration even as Inspiration roams the world of man, seeking a Page upon which to unfurl itself, body and soul, bare yet clothed in immortality if not immediacy.
And the gods said, "Let there be a Page, and many a Page," and there was a Book. And we saw that the Book was good. — Chila Woychik

Her long body stiffened against him. Her cool fingers tightened in his shaggy fur, and her bare, clinging heels dug deep into his heaving flanks. She was sweet against him, and the clear logic of this new life conquered the dreary conventions of that old, dim existence where he had walked in bitter death. — Jack Williamson

I love feeling like I'm inhabiting the body of a ninja, like I could rob a liquor store with my bare hands if I wanted to. — Ronda Rousey

So rests the sky against the earth. The dark still tarn in the lap of the forest. As a husband embraces his wife's body in faithful tenderness, so the bare ground and trees are embraced by the still, high, light of the morning. I feel an ache of longing to share in this embrace, to be united and absorbed. A longing like carnal desire, but directed towards earth, water, sky, and returned by the whispers of the trees, the fragrance of the soil, the caresses of the wind, the embrace of water and light. Content? No, no, no - but refreshed, rested - while waiting. — Dag Hammarskjold

Zachary looked down into the swirling morass that was his beer as the man walked onto the stage and started to play a solo piece, the band respectfully allowing him to start off his set by staking his claim. Zachary would give him staking his claim. He had his guitar nestling close by his side, as always, the leather of the case gently touching his calf, sending an almost erotic charge through his body every time he moved like the less than innocent brush of a future lover's hand on a bare arm. — Pete Langman

One thing, though," Qhuinn murmured.
"What?"
The voice that came out his throat was unlike anything he'd ever heard from himself before. "If any guy breaks your heart or treats you like shit, I will bust him apart with my bare hands and leave his broken, bloody body for the sun."
Blay's laughter rumbled around the tiled walls. "Of course you will
"
"I'm dead fucking serious."
Blay's blue eyes shot over his shoulder.
"If there are any who dare to hurt you," Qhuinn growled in the Old Language, "I shall see them staked afore me and shall leave their bodies in ruin. — J.R. Ward

He reached over and took Taylor's hand. She did not pull her hand away.
He moved his hand up her arm. She stiffened a little and glanced around, making sure they weren't seen. Or, maybe, hoping they were.
His hand reached her neck. He leaned toward her and pulled her to him.
He kissed her.
She kissed him back.
He kissed her harder. And she slid her hand under his shirt, fingers stroking his bare flesh.
Then he pulled away, fast.
"Sorry, I . . ." He hesitated, his wallowing brain arguing against a body that was suddenly aflame.
Sam stood up very suddenly and walked away.
Taylor laughed gaily at his back. "Come see me when you get tired of mooning over the ice princess, Sam. — Michael Grant

He knelt down beside her and slowly rubbed a soft, muculent mix on her bare skin like a sculptor at work. It carried the pleasurable smell of wet earth. With his fingertips, he gently stroked every part of her body; and with every stroke, she groaned softly. She felt the pain that filled every bone in her body, yet she also felt the immense sensation of pleasure and comfort that was so foreign to her — Mirette Baghat

The kiss wasn't just any kiss. No, it was a tricky little bastard, because it started out soft and gentle, but shifted gears in a matter of seconds. The moment her response went from surprise to surrender, the kiss turned hard and hungry, launching us into a frenzy of movement. Her arms were around my neck, my hands were moving all over her body, and somehow, in a span of about five seconds, she climbed up me like a tree, her legs wrapped tightly around my waist.
We spun and bumped into the counter. I reached behind my back with one hand to tighten the cross of her ankles. And then I had her sitting on the edge of the stovetop, my hands exploring the tops of her thighs. I pushed the ruffled skirt hem up and clasped on to her bare, silky skin. Her tongue dove to the back of my throat, sliding over mine like wet, slick velvet.
Holy mother fuck, I couldn't breathe. I was drowning in this girl. — Rachael Wade

Plus, I know for a fact that Governor Cruel won't allow them to keep us." Pip sneered at her. "You're about to learn a harsh lesson, little girl. You're nothing to him. Just another replaceable whore." He raked a harsh glare over her body. "Probably not even that. I've heard his tastes run more along the line of pretty young boys." She met his glare with one of her own. "You know nothing about him. And if you refer to him again with anything other than the utmost respect in your tone, you won't have to worry about prison or the League. I'll fucking kill you with my own bare hands." Those words had the effect she wanted them to. Everyone sucked their breath in and held it. No one had ever heard her use such language before. It wasn't in her nature. But she was through watching others insult Darling when all he'd ever done was try to help them. Her — Sherrilyn Kenyon

And in the shadow of the square below, a small movement betrayed the presence of a man. Waiting. Roger closed his eyes, cold rising from his bare feet up his body, seeing in his mind the sudden vision of a green-eyed woman, lazy in the arms of a fair-haired lover ... and a look of surprise and then of horror on her face as the man vanished from her side. And an invisible blue glow rose in her womb. With his eyes tight shut, he put a hand on the icy windowpane, and said a prayer to be going on with. — Diana Gabaldon

This is what you like, isn't it?" Ben held him tight, big body surrounding Maddox, strength meeting strength. "Slow and soft?" "Love being close to you," Maddox admitted, soul stripped bare by this unexpected side of Ben. "Don't even need to come. Just kissing and rubbing like this is...special." "Yeah, it is." Ben didn't laugh at his sappiness. Instead, his eyes were dark and intense in the early morning light. "Wanted this so long." "Me — Annabeth Albert

The front door flew open, and Mary shot out of the house, jumping off the porch, not even bothering with the steps to the ground. She ran over the frost-laden grass in her bare feet and threw herself at him, grabbing on to his neck with both arms. She held him so tightly his spine cracked.
She was sobbing. Bawling. Crying so hard her whole body was shaking.
He didn't ask any questions, just wrapped himself around her.
I'm not okay," she said hoarsely between breaths. "Rhage ... I'm not okay. — J.R. Ward

I needed to go into that bare, with nothing from my own life on my body, the way woodcutters' children in fairy tales have to leave their protections behind to enter the enchanted castle; the way votaries in old religions used to go naked to their initiation rites. — Tana French

He loved her. He loved her because nature willed it. Because they were already united and of one body. The bare flesh on every part of her belonged to him. The scent emitting from her skin was his. — Alexandra Silber

More - I wanted the hardness of his body crushing against mine; I wanted his mouth and teeth and tongue on my bare skin, on my breasts, between my legs. Everywhere - I wanted him everywhere. I was drowning in that need. — Sarah J. Maas

Think about how much of your Bible, Old and New Testaments, is in the form not of doctrinal statements but of stories. Statements declare doctrinal truth; stories illustrate doctrinal truth. Doctrinal statements are like skeletons - bare bones, but absolutely essential to give form and order and interconnection to the body of revealed truth. Stories flesh out that skeleton, incarnate that truth, demonstrate how the doctrine looks and moves and acts in the real world of flesh and blood. — Layton Talbert

Thank, God," Jason said as the tide of his blue eyes washed over her.
"What?" Alexis asked, her own smile turning the corners of her mouth up.
"You're really here. It wasn't just a dream," Jason responded, kissing her forehead.
"I plan on always being here," she said, her hands drawing circles on his bare chest.
He pulled her closer, their fronts molding together, one of her legs rested on his hip.
"You've sufficiently invaded every part of me, Alexis; my heart, my mind, and now my dreams."
"You don't have to dream to have me, Jason." Alexis' heart melted, realizing just how true his statement had become. This man had invaded every part of her, captured it exclusively for himself; her heart, mind, dreams, and body belonged to this man. — Lindsay Chamberlin

A very naked Lucas was crouched near Ethan. I couldn't process that. He was a werewolf? Dr. Keane and Mason were right? No, no, no. There was another explanation. There had to be. My world tilted and I had an urge to scream hysterically.
I stared at his bare back while he tugged off Ethan's cargo pants. He had absolutely no tan lines. He was like a perfect bronzed god. I might have fallen in lust right then and there if I didn't know that he came with issues in the form of a furry body and canine incisors. — Rachel Hawthorne

You saved me," he repeated. The words sounded like they'd been pulled from the depths of his soul. He stepped back and then dropped his jeans, laying his body, mind, and soul bare with me. "Baby - " "My own parents walked away from me, but you saved me," he hissed, raising a shaking hand to my face. — C.P. Smith

I must admit to a personal lack of sympathy with women who have themselves photographed in black stockings, garter belts and boots, with bare breasts, bananas, and coy, come-hither glances ... A woman using her own face and body has a right to do what she will with them, but it is a subtle abyss that separates men's use of women for sexual titillation from women's use of women to expose that insult. — Lucy R. Lippard

Body went tense, forcing goose bumps to rise over my bare arms. My tough demeanor had been ripped apart and was replaced by a frightened little girl in need of her father's protection. But he wasn't here, and all I had was Jeremy. It wasn't his responsibility to protect me. He shouldn't have to worry about me.
And I shouldn't be falling apart like this. — Nicole Sobon

To speak of oneself means to lay bare one's own soul, expose it like a body to the sun. To lay bare one's own soul is not at all like taking off one's brassiere on a crowded beach! — Oriana Fallaci

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

How much the pain grew inside him after Ossie died until the only way to deal with it was to throw himself into the fray. And the whole time, Vanessa's body was wrapped around him like she was the only one being strong as a shield while he stripped his life bare. — Melissa Cutler

It is easy to bare your body, but it is difficult to bare your soul. What works for me is that I am not a city-raised boy with city-raised sensibilities. I can play the vulnerable tough man, the guy with a gun in his hand, tears in his eyes, fire in his heart, innocence in him, and in his arms a woman he loves. — Randeep Hooda

I've actually felt sad for myself, picturing my slim, naked, pale body, floating just beneath the current, a colony of snails attached to one bare leg, my hair trailing like seaweed until I reach the ocean and drift down down down to the bottom, my waterlogged flesh peeling off in soft streaks, me slowly disappearing into the current like a watercolor until just the bones are left. — Gillian Flynn

Luck I get," she said when they'd sat in silence once more. "But why brave?"
He shifted in his seat then sat forward, his gaze piercing through her. "Because, Natalia, love is a risk. Love from the depths of your soul requires a certain amount of sacrifice. It bids you to give yourself wholly to another. To allow someone to view you like a prism, assessing you at every angle, examining every flaw. You must lay yourself before them, open and bare, and say, 'here I am. I hold nothing back. I am yours, mind, body, and soul.' And all you can do is hope they don't crush you." He leaned closer. "But the man who truly loves you will tend to your heart like he tends a garden, nurturing it until it grows and blooms under his hand. — Leia Shaw

Animula vagula blandula
Hospes comesque corporis
Quae nunc abibis? In Loca
Pallidula rigida nudula
nec ut soles dabis Iocos.
Little soul, you charming little wanderer, my body's guest and partner,
where are you off to now?
somewhere without colour, savage and bare;
You'll crack no more of your jokes once you're there. — Hadrian

She lifted the tails of his elegant silk evening shirt. "Some that don't reach my knees?"
He cleared his throat. He liked her wrapped in his shirt, surrounded by him. "Well, actually, as Joshua knows, that is one of your annoying habits. You like to run around in my shirts. You think they are much more comfortable than your own clothes."
Alexandria regarded him with wide blue eyes. "Oh, I do, do I? I take it you grumble about it."
"Often, to Josh. We laugh together about the idiosyncrasies of women. He thinks you look cute in my shirts."
"And what would give a little boy an idea like that?"
He looked unrepentant. "I might have mentioned it a time or two."
His golden eyes slid over her body, making her aware of her bare skin beneath his shirt, of every curve of her body, of the fact that they were completely alone in some secret chamber of his home.
"It is true, after all. You do look cute in my shirt. — Christine Feehan

So I stood up and did a handstand on my Guru's roof, to celebrate the notion of liberation. I felt the dusty tiles under my hands. I felt my own strength and balance. I felt the easy night breeze on the palms of my bare feet. This kind of thing
a spontaneous handstand
isn't something a disembodied cool blue soul can do, but a human being can do it. We have hands; we can stand on them if we want to. That's our privilege. That's the joy of a mortal body. And that's why God needs us. Because God loves to feel things through our hands. — Elizabeth Gilbert

Lying asleep between the strokes of night
I saw my love lean over my sad bed,
Pale as the duskiest lily's leaf or head,
Smooth-skinned and dark, with bare throat made to bite,
Too wan for blushing and too warm for white,
But perfect-coloured without white or red.
And her lips opened amorously, and said
I wist not what, saving one word
Delight.
And all her face was honey to my mouth,
And all her body pasture to my eyes;
The long lithe arms and hotter hands than fire,
The quivering flanks, hair smelling of the south,
The bright light feet, the splendid supple thighs
And glittering eyelids of my soul's desire. — Algernon Charles Swinburne

Nailed to the beloved body like a slave to a cross, I have learned some secrets of life which are now dimmed in my memory by the operation of the same law which ordains that the convalescent, once cured, ceases to understand the mysterious truths laid bare by illness, and that the prisoner, set free, forgets his torture, or the conqueror, his triumph passed, forgets his glory. — Marguerite Yourcenar

She had left her legs bare, and if he wasn't mistaken, they had a slight sheen. He realized she'd caught him staring when she cleared her throat.
"Are your legs ... sparkly?" he managed to ask, feeling the need to explain since he'd been caught leering.
"My body lotion has a little bit of glitter in it," she said with a trace of diffidence.
She seemed apologetic. For what, he had no idea. — Linda Morris

There is something magical about running; after a certain distance, it transcends the body. Then a bit further, it transcends the mind. A bit further yet, and what you have before you, laid bare, is the soul. — Kristin Armstrong

When one sense is diminished, the others burn more brightly. In a blindfold, you feel every minute motion of his hand as it crosses your body, his fingertips finding secret places, his palm on bare buttocks, his cock nudging at your clitoris. — Chloe Thurlow

Once again decent citizens will be able to enter this house of worship, kneel down in front of a nearly-naked man hanging from a wooden apparatus by a series of gruesome body piercings, and engage in their bizarre practices of ritualized blood-drinking and cannibalism without being assaulted by graphic images of attractive young women with bare breasts. — A. Whitney Brown

I am convinced that anyone can be a great writer ... if he can only ... tell the naked truth about himself and other people. That, a little technique with words and the willingness to bare heart, soul and body are really all it takes. — Clive Barnes

She ran over the frost-laden grass in her bare feet and threw herself at him, grabbing on to his neck with both arms. She held him so tightly his spine cracked. She was sobbing. Bawling. Crying so hard her whole body was shaking. He didn't ask any questions, just wrapped himself around her. "I'm not okay," she said hoarsely between breaths. "Rhage ... I'm not okay." He closed his eyes and held on tight. — J.R. Ward

Guy's only thought was to help her. It wasn't until he'd shoved aside the curtain and held her very wet, very naked body against him that he realized what he'd done.
Her sage green eyes were wide as she stared at him. For long moments, they simply looked at each other.
"I heard you cry out."
"My ... my ankle," she said after clearing her throat. "I put too much pressure on it."
"A bath would have been better." He was valiantly trying to keep his gaze on her face, but it was difficult with her pert breasts against him and her bare ass beneath his hand as he held her up.
"Probably," she whispered. — Donna Grant

And from the top of the building I look down upon the world and see the crowds of people in the city I have made and the world that I have created.
This universe, my universe, dies with me. I will jump and I will die and yet, I will live, as I always do.
I will live and die and murder, a massacre of my people. And I watch as the girl's bare feet leap and her naked body falls. Down, down, down, she falls. She drops. Into the fires of a hell of my making. — Emma Rose Kraus

hear him breathing behind me, loud and fast. "Are you all right, Four?"

"Are you human, Tris? Being up this high..." He gulps for air. "It doesn't scare you at all?"

I look over my shoulder at the ground. If I fall now, I will die. But I don't think I will fall. A gust of air presses against my left side, throwing my body weight to the right. I gasp and cling to the rungs, my balance shifting. Four's cold hand clamps around one of my hips, one of his fingers finding a strip of bare skin just under the hem of my T-shirt. He squeezes, steading me and pushing me gently to the left, restoring my balance. Now I can't breathe. I pause, staring at my hands, my mouth dry. I feel the ghost of where his hand was, his fingers long and narrow.

"You okay?" he asks quietly.

"Yes," I say, my voice strained. — Veronica Roth

One famous Japanese haiku illustrates the state that Sid managed to discover in himself. It is one that Joseph Goldstein has long used to describe the unique attentional posture of bare attention: The old pond. A frog jumps in. Plop!2 Like so much else in Japanese art, the poem expresses the Buddhist emphasis on naked attention to the often overlooked details of everyday life. Yet, there is another level at which the poem may be read. Just as in the parable of the raft, the waters of the pond can represent the mind and the emotions. The frog jumping in becomes a thought or feeling arising in the mind or body, while "Plop!" represents the reverberations of that thought or feeling, unelaborated by the forces of reactivity. The entire poem comes to evoke the state of bare attention in its utter simplicity. — Mark Epstein

He gripped her hips, and standing up, slowly pushed volumes of silk with him. Blue fabric puffed and pillowed between them. His hand traced a slow caress the length of her from knee to hip. Edward's nostrils flared, as did his eyes, when his roving hand slipped behind her, grappling bare skin. She quivered from tantalizing male touch exploring forbidden flesh. Lydia read Edward's face, the flush of tanned skin and mouth unable to close, as knowledge seeped into his brain: she'd said her vows, eaten dinner with the utmost decorum, and chattered politely with all and sundry in this secret state of undress. Edward groaned and jammed her body hard against his. "You're naked under your skirt. — Gina Conkle

In 1840, the year that Victoria and Albert were married, no woman in the kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland could vote, be elected to parliament or any other public office, attend the university, or enter a profession. If a woman married, her property, her earnings, her children, and her body legally belonged to her husband, to do with as he willed. The world of business was more hostile to women in 1840 than it had been in 1740 or 1640, and though many women were forced to work, a bare handful could make a living wage. — Gillian Gill

But is life really worth so much? Let us examine this; it's a different inquiry. We will offer no solace for so desolate a prison house; we will encourage no one to endure the overlordship of butchers. We shall rather show that in every kind of slavery, the road of freedom lies open. I will say to the man to whom it befell to have a king shoot arrows at his dear ones [Prexaspes], and to him whose master makes fathers banquet on their sons' guts [Harpagus]: 'What are you groaning for, fool?... Everywhere you look you find an end to your sufferings. You see that steep drop-off? It leads down to freedom. You see that ocean, that river, that well? Freedom lies at its bottom. You see that short, shriveled, bare tree? Freedom hangs from it.... You ask, what is the path to freedom? Any vein in your body. — Seneca.

My body looks like 30 but my face looks like 50. But I cannot walk bare-chested in the streets. I like to do these movies to challenge myself physically. — Jean-Claude Van Damme

when the wine is gone
and you remove your tired body from
your steaming bath, come to bed.
do not worry about putting
on your night clothes, naked you'll
come as you know the moon
loves the sight of your bare flesh
through the window.
the sheets are calling your name
my dear.
come as you are.
there is enough love
in me to birth an entirely
new universe and to it
we can run whenever this world
becomes too heavy for our
shaking shoulders. — Christopher Poindexter

Throughout the movie, we moved to eat popcorn, shifted to get comfortable, only to end up uncomfortable; an awkward dance of keeping my hands and parts from familiar and unfamiliar areas of Echo's divine body. I was capable of being a gentleman for the length of one movie, at least. The credits roled and my left hand, which I'd placed behind my head to avoid her tempting tummy, tingled with numbness.
My patience finaly snapped. "This is ridiculous." I swept her up and swung her over my shoulder, her bare feet dangling in front of me.
Tinkling laughter filed the room. "What are you doing?" I tossed her onto the bed. Her fire-red hair sprawled over the pilow. My siren smiled up at me.
"Getting comfortable," I said. " -Noah's POV — Katie McGarry

Marley, let's get one thing straight. I've seen you in a short skirt. I've seen your bare legs and have imagined them wrapped around me. I've felt the curves of your body with my hands and the way it responds to me. I've tasted the sweetness of your mouth. There is nothing you can do to erase those images from my mind. So understand this, you could wear a Middle-eastern Burka and it wouldn't help me right now. — M.K. Schiller

In that moment, I wanted to cut out all my sins from my body and lay them down upon the earth before you. Like pieces of bark they are rough and dead, once clutching onto my very skin, all a part of me. You make me want to strip myself bare and lay myself out to you, I want you to see all my flaws, I want you to know I am not beautiful, yet all the while wanting you to take me anyway. I am composed of things that are dead, I am not a tree, I do not give life, I am just bark, flaws, stitched together with hope for something more. I wish for love, I wish for more. — Joshua Allen

My first sight of the fabled warrior was a surprise. He was not a mighty-thewed giant, like Ajax. His body was not broad and powerful, as Odysseos'. He seemed small, almost boyish, his bare arms and legs slim and virtually hairless. His chin was shaved clean, and the ringlets of his long black hair were tied up in a silver chain. He wore a splendid white silk tunic, bordered with a purple key design, cinched at the waist with a belt of interlocking gold crescents ... His face was the greatest shock. Ugly, almost to the point of being grotesque. Narrow beady eyes, lips curled in a perpetual snarl, a sharp hook of a nose, skin pocked and cratered ... A small ugly boy born to be a king ... A young man possessed with fire to silence the laughter, to stifle the taunting. His slim arms and legs were iron-hard, knotted with muscle. His dark eyes were absolutely humourless. There was no doubt in my mind that he could outfight Odysseos or even powerful Ajax on sheer willpower alone. — Ben Bova

Bugle"

Black beetles know where the most recent bones
bake in the heat, tendons and meat long gone,
bleached white, and if you give them cheap wine --
drizzle a few red drops on a flat stone--
they will lead you to a barren gulch
surrounded by sages and nettles, dirt
burnt to powdery sand and sharp thorns. Hunch
above the skeleton, bow your head, start reciting verses you learned as a child, there, under the sun with rocks and brush, bare
locust tree a telling reliquary
of dust to dust, all so brutally hot.
You must pull ribs from that rotting body,
words that matter: love me, love me not. — Tod Marshall

What's left of what your body was - once the girl with bare shoulder blades , giggling, once the girl galloping an imaginary horse, once the girl sleeping in her sequined red dress - was now ash in a jar. Grains of bone. But then, I knew it wasn't you anymore. You were somewhere more. — Ava Dellaira

Only two. Practically an innocent. So unlike all the men she'd known, and he must have known it. And yet the thoughts swelled and crashed and swelled again, a torrent of unprecedented jealousy, raw and unfamiliar: Who? Who knows how it feels to be covered by your body? Who knows the taste of your mouth, the feel of you inside her? Who has tangled her bare legs with yours, seen your eyelashes against your cheek while you sleep, your hair smashed across the pillow, knows the scrape of your morning beard against her cheek?
What are you like when you lose control, Reverend Sylvaine? — Julie Anne Long

Nothing and no one in the world could kill the love I have for you. I have surrendered my whole individuality, the very essence of my being to you. I have given you my body time after time to treat as you pleased. All the hoardings of my imagination I have laid bare to you. There isn't a recess in my brain into which you haven't penetrated. I have clung to you and caressed you and slept with you and I would like to tell the whole world that I clamour for you. You are my lover and I am your mistress, and kingdoms and empires and governments have tottered and succumbed before now to that mighty combination
the most powerful in the world. — Violet Trefusis

It's like the frog that tried to outdo the cow...see, the consequences are reflected in each of us as individuals. A people so oppressed by the West have no mental leisure, they can't do anything worthwhile. They get an education that's stripped to the bare bone, and they're driven with their noses to the grindstone until they're dizzy -- that's why they all end up with nervous breakdowns. Try talking to them -- they're usually stupid. They haven't thought about a thing beyond themselves, that day, that very instant. They're too exhausted to think about anything else; it's not their fault. Unfortunately, exhaustion of the spirit and deterioration of the body come hand-in-hand. And that's not all. The decline of morality has set in too. Look where you will in this country, you won't find one square inch of brightness. It's all pitch black. So what difference would it make... — Soseki Natsume

The moment my bare feet make contact with the wood floor, my breath catches in my throat. Blake swivels his body around to greet me.
"Morning, roomie."
His voice is like a shot of caffeine that ignites my body. How does he do that? — Alex Rosa

Still, Lindsay stops getting dressed, even though he's only half-done, because he gets this urge to ambush the kid with a hug. Just that, nothing else. He wraps his arms around Valentine's skinny body and pulls him close and rests his cheek on the still-damp hair and inhales the cherry-almond scent of his shampoo, and Valentine says, "Oh!" in a really odd way, like he's just read a particularly interesting fact on the back of a Penguin biscuit wrapper. Lindsay's got his eyes shut but he can feel the kid's hands creeping up his bare arms, over his shoulders. One stays there and the other comes to rest on the back of his neck, fingers playing idly with the ends of his hair, and several minutes pass without sound or movement, just the gentle thud of heartbeats.
"What's that for?" Valentine asks, when Lindsay finally lets him go.
"Don't know. Nothing. Just seemed the kind of thing you'd like. BAM, surprise ninja cuddles. — Richard Rider

If you give me the five hundred dollars right now, I'll let you do
whatever you want to me," she whimpered.
"Why are you being such a hard ass, Jeni?" he said with a wry
smile. He took her hand and slid it down the front of his bare torso. His
abdominal muscles rippled under her hand. Then he slid her hand over
his erection. His cock twitched at the feel of her hand. "You know you
want me to fuck you."
"Then cough up the money, Hamilton!" Though her voice regained
its edge, her body was seconds away from crumbling. She wanted nothing
more than him buried deep inside her. She ached for him. — Jessica Jayne

One of the most important long-term changes that arose as a result of this case was the creation of the "murder bag" for use by police. Spilsbury had been shocked to see police officers having to remove rotting flesh and body parts from the scene of the crime using their bare hands. To address this problem, a series of meetings were held between Scotland Yard and Spilsbury, which led to the development of the murder bag, which contained rubber gloves, tweezers, evidence bags, a magnifying glass, compass, ruler, and swabs. Such a bag is now an essential part of any major inquiry and may contain various items, depending on the specific department. Common modern additions include a fiberglass brush, lifting tape, powder, utility knife, scissors, a blood test, a semen test, swabs, alcohol hand spray, scalpels, and goggles — Nigel McCrery

And she could be depressed if she wanted to be, she could sit and watch Dogs with Jobs on the National Geographic Channel and eat her way through a packet of chocolate bourbon biscuits if she felt like it because nobody cared about her. In fact, she could sit there all day, from Barney and Friends to Porn Babes Laid Bare, with hours of the Landscape Channel in between, and eat the contents of an entire biscuit factory until she was an obese, earthbound balloon whose dead and bloated body would have to be hydraulically lifted from the house by a fire crew because nobody cared. — Kate Atkinson

Anyway ... she's asleep, turned away from me on her side. The usual stratagems and repositionings have failed to induce narcosis in me, so I decide to settle myself against the soft zigzag of her body. As I move and start to nestle my shin against a calf whose muscles are loosened by sleep, she sense what I'm doing, and without waking reaches up with her left hand and pulls the hair off her shoulders on the top of her head, leaving me her bare nape to nestle in. Each time she does this I feel a shudder of love at the exactness of this sleeping courtesy. My eyes prickle with tears, and I have to stop myself from waking her up to remind her of my love. At that moment, unconsciously, she's touched some secret fulcrum of my feelings for her. — Julian Barnes

When we're in a human body, we don't care about universal collapse - instead, we care only about a meeting of the eyes, a glimpse of bare flesh, the caressing tones of a loved voice, joy, love, light, the orientation of a house plant, the shade of a paint stroke, the arrangement of hair. — David Eagleman

Bare feet on the grass comfort the spirit and connect the body to the earth all at once! — Maximillian Degenerez

Little soul, gentle and drifting, guest and companion of my body, now you will dwell below in pallid places, stark and bare; there you will abandon your play of yore. But one moment still, let us gaze together on these familiar shores, on these objects which doubtless we shall not see again ... Let us try, if we can, to enter into death with open eyes ... — Marguerite Yourcenar

RUSTY watched the dawn blossom into light. At first everything was dark, then gradually objects began to take shape - the desk and chair, the walls of the room - and the darkness lifted like the raising of a veil, and over the tree-tops the sky was streaked with crimson. It was like this for some time, while everything became clearer and more distinguishable; and then, when nature was ready, the sun reached up over the trees and hills, and sent one tentative beam of warm light through the window. Along the wall crept the sun, across to the bed, and up the boy's bare legs, until it was caressing his entire body and whispering to him to get up, get up, it is time to get up ... — Ruskin Bond

I noticed how Brent twitched when I lifted the hem of my tank top to bare my stomach and ribs. The reflex was not an effort to shy away from seeing my body, but from something more carnal in nature. I deduced this from the subtle flicker of red in his blue eyes. Even this Reaper, the most powerful Stygian I had met, next to Head Reaper Marin, couldn't mask his desire. — Abigail Baker

Her eyes raked over his body, drinking in his tousled black hair, miles of bare skin and cut muscles, the black trail of curls that led down to his pajama bottoms, which had settled low on his hips. Dangerously low.
Damn. She couldn't have built a better model if she'd tried. Even in the dim pre-morning light, his physical perfection was obvious.
Movement drew her gaze back to his face and she blushed. Dark eyes blazed up at her. Totally busted. — Laura Kaye

For all parts of the body that we see fit to expose to the wind and air are found fit to endure it: face, feet, hands, legs, shoulders, head, according as custom invites us. For if there is a part of us that is tender and that seems as though it should fear the cold, it should be the stomach, where digestion takes place; our fathers left it uncovered, and our ladies, soft and delicate as they are, sometimes go half bare down to the navel. — Michel De Montaigne

Ciaran broke the silence and spoke quietly. "She means naught to me."

A tear fell down her cheek and she wiped it away. "It doesnae matter--truly," she whispered.

He reached out and gently brushed her arms. When she closed her eyes to avoid his probing gaze, he raised her chin with his finger. "It matters to me," he said solemnly. He wiped her tears with his thumb. "I told her we were done when I returned to Glenorchy. She wasnae pleased. I didnae know she was there, Rosalia. She saw ye and Aisling and threw her body upon me."

She could not help but smirk. "Her verra bare body, my laird."

He paused for a moment, a spark of some identifiable emotion in his eyes. "I didnae notice, Rosalia. All I saw was ye. — Victoria Roberts

Scowling, Scarlet grabbed her aunt by the neck and twisted with one brutal slash. The woman's spine was instantly broken, her body flopping lifeless to the ground. But she could recover from that, and Scarlet had to know. Gideon opened his mouth to tell her she would have to find a way to remove the head from the body, but she beat him to it. She found a way. With her bare hands. That's my girl. "That won't kill her for good, will it?" he asked Cronus, just wanting assurance. Worked for immortals, but he'd never delivered the deathblow to a straight-up god or goddess. "Time will tell," Cronus replied cryptically. Gideon would just go ahead and take that as "bitch was wasted forever." Panting — Gena Showalter

He had his one life. In June 1942 he went to Lazarevo holding it in his hands. By the shores of the Kama, he found her gorgeous and restored, and not just restored to her original shining brilliance but enlarged and clarified. Light reflected off her, no matter which way she turned. They ran down to the almighty river. She never even looked back. She would never know what it meant to him, an unremitting sinner, after all the unsacred things he had seen and done, to have her innocence. He held her to him. He had dreamed of it too long, touching her. Dreamed of seeing her naked too long, beautiful, bare, ready for him. He was afraid to hurt her. He had never been with an untouched girl before; he wasn't sure if he was supposed to do something first. In the end, he did nothing first, but she baptized him with her body. There was no Alexander anymore; the man he knew had died and was reborn inside a perfect heart, given to him straight from God, to him and for him. — Paullina Simons

Lucas Delos stood over her, his body tense, his eyes scanning the distance for something that Helen couldn't see from her position on the ground.
"'Are you injured?'" he asked in a low, unsteady voice, still looking out over her head. There was blood on his lip and his shirt was torn.
Helen had a bare moment to say she was fine before she heard the sobbing sisters start to whisper. — Josephine Angelini

I've come to hold the human spirit in the highest regard. Like the body, it struggles to repair itself. As cells fight off infection and conquer illness, the spirit, too, has remarkable resilience. It knows when it is harmed, and it knows when the harm is too much to bare. If it deems the injury too great, the spirit cocoons the wound, in the same fashion that the body forms a cyst around infection, until the time comes that it can deal with it. For some people, that time never comes. Some stay fractured, forever broken. You see them on the street, pushing carts. You see them in the faces of the regulars at the bar. — Karen Marie Moning

maybe she should take out a book and read, for it don't make no sense to just lean against the shop front, doing nothing, and she start to search in her bag, when she hear Pansy shout, "Lord Jesus! Oh God, help me!" Pansy bawling for help louder and louder, so Grace get frighten. She drop her schoolbag, run quick into the shop, and push on the door to the back room with all her might. After a couple tries, it fly open. Staring at her are one pair of feet with brown socks, one pair of feet with no socks, four legs with no covering and Mortimer's bare bottom rising and falling with a motion that remind her of when he was using the saw. Grace look, turn right around, march out, pick up her school bag, and start walking home. First she is furious with Pansy, but then she start to laugh. Mortimer have a nice body, but he is short. Pansy is a good-sized girl. Grace remember Gramps say, "Tiny insects pollinate sizeable flowers, — Pamela Mordecai

Revere your senses; don't degrade them with drugs, with depression, with willful oblivion. Try to notice something new every day, Eustace said. Pay attention to even the most modest of daily details. Even if you're not in the woods, be aware at all times. Notice what food tastes like, notice what the detergent aisle in the supermarket smells like and recognize what those hard chemical smells do to your senses; notice what bare feet feel like; pay attention every day to the vital insights that mindfulness can bring. And take care of all things, of every single thing there is - your body, your intellect, your spirit, your neighbors, and this planet. Don't pollute your soul with apathy or spoil your health with junk food any more than you would deliberately contaminate a clean river with industrial sludge. You can never become a real man if you have a careless and destructive attitude, Eustace said, but maturity will follow mindfulness even as day follows night. — Elizabeth Gilbert

He was aching to learn what Celaena's lips felt like, what her bare skin smelled like, how she'd react to the touch of his fingers along her body. — Sarah J. Maas

Do you sleep in your suits, too?"
He dragged his gaze from the sweater she held up to her and completed a slow perusal starting at her totally reasonable three-and-a-half-inch metallic silver heels, up her bare calves, across the fitted pear-green pencil skirt, over her winter-white cashmere sweater and stopping briefly on her lips before reaching her eyes. She'd been stark naked, pressed up against a sixteenth-floor window, having one of the best orgasms of her life from a lover-s tongue and hadn't been as turned on as she was at that moment. Fire licked its way across her skin, flicking at all of her sensitive spots until her entire body vibrated.
"Do I sleep in my suits? Do you really want to know?" he asked, his voice low with just enough dominating arrogance in it to make her shiver. — Avery Flynn

Does he make you tremble with a touch?" He ran the tips of his fingers up my bare arm, his touch feather light, yet it lit a fire inside me. I closed my eyes, my entire body trembling. He lifted hair from my neck, lowered his head, and pressed a kiss on my exposed neck. Warmth pulsed through me. "Is he the first person you think about when you wake up in the morning and the last one you think about before you fall asleep? — Ednah Walters

I like to walk, touch living Mother Earth - bare feet best, and thrill every step. Used to envy happy reptiles that had advantage of so much body in contact with earth, bosom to bosom. [We] live with our heels as well as head and most of our pleasure comes in that way. — John Muir

There was no denying it; his wicked words thrilled her. Like a feather slowly brushing over her bare skin, they teased and tantalized, awakening every inch of her body. — Anna Bennett

So," Riley asked, "what have you got for me?" Taking his hand, she placed it palm-down over her heart. It would hurt like a bitch, she thought, but he was hers to protect as much as she was his.
"Me." And she opened up her soul, laid herself bare. The mating bond shoved through her body like white lightning, hot and wild and right. Incredibly, wonderfully right. His energy was different from hers - wolf, not leopard - but it laced itself with her own until their combined strength was far greater than either would've ever been alone.
"Wow." He blinked, swaying on his feet. "Damn. — Nalini Singh

He places the last pillow on the pile and looks at me. He jerks his head to the pile of pillows.
"I watched you die. I need to fuck you Mac."
The words slam into me like bullets taking my knees out. I lean back against a piece of furniture-an armoire I think. I really don't care. It holds me up. It wasn't a request. It was an acknowledgement of a requirement to make it from this moment to the next like I need a transfusion my body has been poisoned.
"Do you want me to " There is no purr or coyness or seduction in his voice. There is a question that needs an answer. Bare bones. That's what he's after. That's what he offers.
"Yes. — Karen Marie Moning