Bed Step Quotes & Sayings

How are you doing, Harper?" Trent hadn't touched her yet, but he was standing right behind her. She could feel his warm breath on her skin. "A bit light-headed, to be honest." "Put your head down between your knees. It's either the presence of my greatness-which happens all the time, so don't feel bad-or the adrenaline. Take some slow, deep breaths. What you're doing tonight is a huge step." She did as he said. His scuffed black boots disappeared from her line of sight and reappeared a minute later. "Please don't pass out and fall off the bed-my insurance doesn't cover dental."

- Trent & Harper — Scarlett Cole

14. Indifference
I SAID, - for Love was laggard, O, Love was slow to come,
"I'll hear his step and know his step when I am warm in bed;
But I'll never leave my pillow, though there be some
As would let him in - and take him in with tears!" I said.
I lay, - for Love was laggard, O, he came not until dawn, - 5
I lay and listened for his step and could not get to sleep;
And he found me at my window with my big cloak on,
All sorry with the tears some folks might weep! — Edna St. Vincent Millay

When you are surrounded by people who are much better than you, you have two choices: You can sh*t the bed, and the performance can go to hell. Or you can step up and rise to the occasion. — John Cena

I opened my eyes
And looked up at the rain,
And it dripped in my head
And flowed into my brain,
And all that I hear as I lie in my bed
Is the slishity-slosh of the rain in my head.
I step very softly,
I walk very slow,
I can't do a handstand
I might overflow,
So pardon the wild crazy thing I just said
I'm just not the same since there's rain in my head. — Shel Silverstein

The International Space Station is a phenomenal laboratory, an unparalleled test bed for new invention and discovery. Yet I often thought, while silently gazing out the window at Earth, that the actual legacy of humanity's attempts to step into space will be a better understanding of our current planet and how to take care of it. — Chris Hadfield

I got out of bed and took a step forward, repeating the phrase over and over: "I can't go on. I'll go on. — Paul Kalanithi

The idea of having new perspectives on our planet, and actually being able to get that message out, gets me out of bed every day with a spring in my step. — Karen Bass

You married me, Christa. Marriage! It was a serious step. I warned you. As the saying goes, madam, you've made your bed. You're going to lie in it. You understand what I mean, Christa. I know you do. — Heather Graham

I AM YOUR STRENGTH AND SHIELD. I plan out each day and have it ready for you, long before you arise from bed. I also provide the strength you need each step of the way. Instead of assessing your energy level and wondering about what's on the road ahead, concentrate on staying in touch with Me. My Power flows freely into you through our open communication. Refuse to waste energy worrying, and you will have strength to spare. — Sarah Young

Like, I'm hyper-conscious about going to bed on time, and doing my seven-step skin care routine at night. — Gillian Jacobs

Terrific! Have you done Step Three?" He waggled his brows as he opened up the top left drawer of my dresser.
"No. Hey! Do you mind, Nosy Newton?"
"Are these panties?" he asked, holding up two of my thongs. "Because they look like dental floss to me."
Oh my God. My almost father-in-law was digging around in my lingerie. Embarrassment bloomed in my face. "Ruadan, get out of my underwear!"
"Fine," he said, closing the left drawer and opening the right one. "Oh! Lookie here!"
"If you touch that box," I said menacingly, "I will cut off your head with your own swords. And I'm not talking about the one on your shoulders."
He laughed, shutting the drawer. "You won't need a vibrator anymore. You've got Patrick." His gaze slid toward the dresser. "Unless you have different toys in there. Nipple clamps?"
"I ... what ... oh God." I fell onto the bed, curled into the fetal position, and covered my face. — Michele Bardsley

One woman's recipe for laundry day included this 11-step routine that's exhausting even to read: bild fire in back yard to het kettle of rain water. set tubs so smoke won't blow in eyes if wind is peart. shave 1 hole cake lie sope in bilin water. sort things. make 3 piles. 1 pile white, 1 pile cullord, 1 pile work briches and rags. stur flour in cold water to smooth then thin down with bilin water [for starch]. rub dirty spots on board. scrub hard. then bile. rub cullord but don't bile just rench [rinse] and starch. take white things out of kettle with broom stick handle then rench, blew [whitener] and starch. pore rench water in flower bed. scrub porch with hot sopy water turn tubs upside down go put on a cleen dress, smooth hair with side combs, brew cup of tee, set and rest and rock a spell and count blessings. — Brandon Marie Miller

Here is how I spend my days now. I live in a beautiful place. I sleep in a beautiful bed. I eat beautiful food. I go for walks through beautiful places. I care for people deeply. At night my bed is full of love, because I alone am in it. I cry easily, from pain and pleasure, and I don't apologize for that. In the mornings I step outside and I'm thankful for another day. It took me many years to arrive at such a life. — Ottessa Moshfegh

It would be inappropiate, undignified, at 38, to conduct friendships or love affairs with the ardour or intensity of a 22 year old. Falling in love like that? Writing poetry? Crying at pop songs? Dragging people into photobooths? Taking a whole day to make a compilation tape? Asking people if they wanted to share your bed, just for company? If you quoted Bob Dylan or TS Eliot or, god forbid, Brecht at someone these days they would smile politely and step quietly backwards, and who would blame them? Ridiculous, at 38, to expect a song or book or film to change your life. — David Nicholls

We never really had a beginning. For months, we fought and insulted each other. Then we combusted into bed. We pretended what happened didn't matter, but it did, Blondie. You matter." "Braeden," I whispered and took a step farther into the room. He shook his head. "All the shit with Missy, and Zach ... hell, even with my father, it got in our way. I let it. This is me swearing I won't let it again. This is me swearing this is our beginning. You're it for me." He took a breath, and I watched his chest rise with it. His dark, chocolate eyes latched onto mine. "Because I still don't like you, Blondie." I started to roll my eyes. "I love you." My heart stopped. Everything stopped. That place deep down inside me burned and tingled. "I don't like you either." My voice wobbled. The intensity of his stare drilled right into me, like he was seating desperately for my reply. "I love you so damn much," I confessed.
-Braeden & Ivy — Cambria Hebert

Shy Gifts
Shy gifts that come to us from a world that may not
even know we're here. Windfalls, scantlings.
Breaking a bough like breathy flute-notes, a row
of puffed white almond-blossom, the word in hiding
among newsprint that has other news to tell.
In a packed aisle at the supermarket, I catch
the eye of a wordless one-year-old, whale-blue,
unblinking. It looks right through me, recognising
what? Wisely mistrustful but unwisely
impulsive as we are, we take these givings
as ours and meant for us - why else so leap
to receive them? - and go home lighter
of step to the table set, the bed turned down, the book
laid open under the desk-lamp, pages astream
with light like angels' wings, arched for take-off. — David Malouf

Today is one of the days when Ma is Gone.
She won't wake up properly. She's here but not really. She stays in Bed with the pillows on her head.
Silly Penis is standing up, I squish him down.
I eat my hundred cereal and I stand on my chair to wash the bowl and Meltedy Spoon. It's very quiet when I switch off the water. I wonder did Old Nick come in the night. I don't think he did because the trash bag is still by Door, but maybe he did only he didn't take the trash? Maybe Ma's not just Gone. Maybe he squished her neck even harder and now she's -
I go up really close and listen till I hear breath. I'm just one inch away, my hair touches Ma's nose and she puts her hand up over her face so I step back.
I don't have a bath on my own, I just get dressed.
There's hours and hours, hundreds of them.
Ma gets up to pee but not talking, with her face all blank. I already put a glass of water beside Bed but she just gets back under Duvet. — Emma Donoghue

Living is a risk,' I snapped at him. 'Every decision, every interaction, every step, every time you get out of bed in the morning, you take a risk. To survive is to know you're taking that risk and to not get out of bed clutching illusions of safety. — Maria V. Snyder

My mother did not want to go to America: this much I knew. I knew it by the way she became distracted and impatient with my sister, by the way she stopped tucking us into bed at night. I knew it from watching her feet, which began to shuffle after my father announced the move, as though they threw down invisible roots that needed to be pulled out with each step. — Catherine Chung

It's open!" Zane called, expecting Sidewinder and an amused FBI agent or three.
But it was just Kelly, and he had a hand slapped over his eyes. He took a tentative step into the cabin, then tossed a handful of medical supplies on the bed and retreated without ever saying a word. Ty and Zane stared at the supplies as the door shut. They included a flexible wrap, some popsicle sticks, one length of metal that could be bent and molded, and a little tube of lubricant.
"Asshole!" Ty called after Kelly.
"You're welcome! — Abigail Roux

I wanted to hear his window open, hear his espadrilles on the balcony, and then the sound of my own window, which was never locked, being pushed open as he'd step into my room after everyone had gone to bed, slip under my covers, undress me without asking, and after making me want him more than I thought I could ever want another living soul, gently, softly, and, with the kindness one Jew extends to another, work his way into my body, gently and softly, after heeding the words I'd been rehearsing for days now, Please, don't hurt me, which meant, Hurt me all you want. — Andre Aciman

Lovecraft said that the oldest and strongest type of fear is the fear of the unknown. And he was an authority on such matters.

But that's not exactly it, is it?

We like the unknown. We're hunky dory with the unknown. We are, in fact, perfectly thrilled with the unknown -- as long as it remains unknown and we never have to think about it.

What we're really afraid of is that the unknown will stand up and demand to be recognized. That it won't get out of the way quickly enough and we'll step in it, all squishy and moist. We're terrified at night in the dark that the rough, slouching unknown will crawl into bed and give us a hot wet kiss on the neck.

We're not afraid of the unknown. We're afraid of the unknown becoming known. — Matthew Sturges

Only on one condition," she said, now taking a step closer to him for a change. "I'm a recovering people pleaser, especially when it comes to men. If I give this place a try, I want it to be all about me, so I can finally figure out what kind of man I really want and what I like in bed. We got a deal? — Harper Kincaid

The tenderness between two people can turn the air tender, the room tender, time itself tender. As I step out of bed and slip on an oversize shirt, everything around me feels like it's the temperature of happiness. — David Levithan

Starling lowered her voice, but it carried anyway. "He is FitzChivalry, son of Chivalry the Abdicated. And you are the Fool."
"Once, perhaps, I was the Fool. It is common knowledge here in Jhaampe. But now I am the Toymaker. As I no longer use the other title, you may take it for yourself if you wish. As for Tom, I believe he takes the title Bed Bolster these days."
"I will be seeing the Queen about this."
"A wise decision. If you wish to become her Fool, she is certainly the one you must see. But for now, let me show you something else. No, step back, please, so you can see it all. Here it comes." I heard the slam and the latch. "The outside of my door," the Fool announced gladly. "I painted it myself. Do you like it? — Robin Hobb

If at first you don't succeed, getting outa bed is a great first step to trying again. — Danny A. Brown

The drawings make you smile," he replied with a grin. "Working on the speech doesn't do anything."
That...that was so sweet, I wanted to hug him tight, kiss him, too. "Working on your speech will make me smile, too."
His brows lifted and then he flipped his notebook closed. "I know what else will make you smile."
"What? You actually doing some homework?"
"Nope." He glanced at the door again and then rose. "I think me sitting closer to you will make you smile."
The boy knew me well.
He took a step closer. "I think holding your hand will make you smile."
I straightened as I watched him.
"And I think..." He sat on the edge of the bed and twisted his body toward mine. "I think kissing you will make you smile, too. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

Luisa was on her knees on the bed, naked, my 9mm in her hands and aimed right at me. I automatically had my gun pointed back at her. The sexiest Mexican standoff I'd ever been involved in. "What are you doing?" I asked, taking a cautious step toward her, not lowering my gun for a second. "Leaving," she answered, her eyes hard. She was distracting as all hell, her tits and pussy and that gun. I don't think I'd ever been so turned on so quick and in such an untimely situation. "It doesn't look like it." "I'm going to ask you nicely to let me leave, and if you don't, I'll shoot you." A grin broke out across my face. My god, she couldn't be more perfect. "If you shot me, you'd kill me," I said, taking another step. "Then who would make you come all the time? — Karina Halle

It's like aversion therapy. You keep doing scenes over and over again with three women in the bed with you, and we had to do them all in one week. Three girls would step out and another three girls would step into the bed.It sounds like a fantasy but by the end of it, I just wanted to go for a hike on my own in the north of England, in the hills. Because it became a sort of "be careful what you wish for" kinda thing. — Steve Coogan

Turning the corner, she saw the dark figure of a man, John, pushed up against the side of his bed cast in the light of another stained glass lamp. She fought the simultaneous instinct to jump away and move closer.
"You shouldn't have come," he said through gritted teeth.
"I had to," she insisted, taking a step forward. "It sounded like you were in trouble."
He laughed without humor. "Damn right I'm in trouble. — Shawn Kirsten Maravel

God she hated the dance. A blow to the cheek one minute and discussing a romantic getaway the next. It was the one step forward, two steps back waltz. She wanted to scream. Sitting on the side of the bed, Claire allowed herself tears and swallowed — Aleatha Romig

I can't imagine living in a house without a couple of dogs. If I ever got out of bed at night and didn't have to step over a Labrador or two or three, or move one off the covers so I could turn over, my nights would be more restless and the demons that wait in the dark for me would be less easily fended. — Gene Hill

Genuine confidence is what launches you out of bed in the morning, and through your day with a spring in your step. — James C. Collins

Day-um." He whistled, keeping his voice low as he looked up and down my body. The tiny shorts and tank left very little to the imagination. "You look hot," he growled and came at me. I backed up a step and he caught me around the waist. Both of us fell back and landed on my bed. I laughed and looked up. But he wasn't laughing or smiling. His gaze was intense and it made my heart skip a beat. "What?" I whispered. Maybe he'd come to tell me how much he regretted earlier. "Has anyone ever told you just how beautiful you really are?" He breathed. The bottom fell out of my stomach and I shook my head. "That's a damn shame," he muttered and lowered his head to capture my lips.
- Romeo & Rimmel — Cambria Hebert

Don't test me right now, Olivia. You don't know what it did to me - seeing you with those other males, seeing that Tranq's hands on you - " He broke off with a deep sound of frustration and came toward her again. "I didn't want him to," Liv said, still backing away. Her voice was coming out much more breathy than she wanted it to. "He just - " "He just assumed you were available because I hadn't marked you. But you're mine Lilenta. Can't stand another male's scent anywhere near you. Have to mark you. Now." The last word was a muted roar. Liv took another step back and something hit the backs of her thighs. Turning her head she saw it was the bed - Baird had backed her into the bedroom. "Please," she whispered. "What are you going to do to me?" "Whatever I have to, to make you mine. — Evangeline Anderson

Every morning I jump out of bed and step on a landmine. The landmine is me. After the explosion, I spend the rest of the day putting the pieces together. — Ray Bradbury

What do I need to get you into my bed?" Logan asked boldly.
Tate couldn't help the laugh escaping his mouth at Logan's directness. "A vagina?" He raised a brow at the man.
Releasing his arm, Logan took a step back and removed his cell phone from his pocket. He dialed a number and placed the phone to his ear.
"Hi hon." He then met Tate's eyes and smirked as he mouthed, A vagina I can get. — Ella Frank

My own remedy is always to eat, just before I step into bed, a hot roasted onion, if I have a cold. — George Washington

With Nicky's form of EB, once an area gets over-wounded it never gets strong again. Some areas do not even heal ever again. These areas now included his feet. Even when they did heal, they were so incredibly fragile that even a simple step or a little pressure to get himself off the computer chair to the bed would cause a blister the size of my fist. — Silvia Corradin

Don't you know that love isn't just going to bed? Love isn't an act, it's a whole life. It's staying with her now because she needs you; it's knowing you and she will still care about each other when sex and daydreams, fights and futures
when all that's on the shelf and done with. Love
why, I'll tell you what love is: it's you at seventy-five and her at seventy-one, each of you listening for the other's step in the next room, each afraid that a sudden silence, a sudden cry, could mean a lifetime's talk is over. — Brian Moore

Tracy pulled the pillow away from her face and stared up at the ceiling of her huge bedroom. Was that it, she wondered. Was Ross not satisfying his demanding wife in the one place where it really counted for a woman like her mother? In bed. Two weeks ago, in the middle of one of their pointless arguments Faye had shouted at Ross that he wasn't a man. They'd been in the kitchen and Tracy remembered how she'd frozen at the counter, hardly daring to breathe. Her Daddy's cheeks had turned white and then a furious shade of red. He'd taken a step toward Faye whose own face blanched as her eyes widened in fear. Even she had realized she'd gone too far. Ross had looked as if he was on the verge of punching his wife in the mouth but then, without another word, he'd turned and strode out of the house. It had been his turn to slam the door that time. He'd done it so hard Tracy could have sworn the whole house shook. — Katie Ayres

Thank God I have the seeing eye, that is to say, as I lie in bed I can walk step by step on the fells and rough land seeing every stone and flower and patch of bog and cotton pass where my old legs will never take me again. — Beatrix Potter

The hour before bed should be peaceful. Your routine should be done in rooms with dim lights. Your last step should end in the quiet, dark bedroom with little talking and your usual go-to-sleep technique. Write down your routine, and make it very specific. — Elizabeth Pantley

The first step to achieving all your goals is getting out of bed. Coffee and toast are optional. — Peter James West

Me getting in your bed was the first step, T. My presence in your bed was my way of telling you I was all in, because I knew," his voice, long gone hoarse, cracked, "I knew you were an all-in kinda guy, so I took the leap. Jumped for you. But you ran from me. — Avril Ashton

Helen,
You ask if I regret our engagement.
No. I regret every minute that you're out of my sight. I regret every step that doesn't bring me closer to you.
My last thought each night is that you should be in my arms. There is no peace or pleasure in my empty bed, where I sleep with you only in dreams and wake to curse the dawn.
If I had the right, I would forbid you to go anywhere without me. Not out of selfishness, but because being apart from you is like trying to live without breathing.
Think on that. You've stolen my very breath, cariad. And now I'm left to count the days until I take it back from you, kiss by kiss.
Winterborne — Lisa Kleypas

remember the moment when my overwhelming unease yielded, when that seemingly impassable sea of uncertainty parted. I woke up in pain, facing another day - no project beyond breakfast seemed tenable. I can't go on, I thought, and immediately, its antiphon responded, completing Samuel Beckett's seven words, words I had learned long ago as an undergraduate: I'll go on. I got out of bed and took a step forward, repeating the phrase over and over: "I can't go on. I'll go on." That — Paul Kalanithi

Your next step is to identify why you want to live like that. Look back over your notes about the kind of lifestyle you want, and think again. Why do you want to do aromatherapy before bed? Why do you want to listen to classical music while doing yoga? If the answers are "because I want to relax before bed," and "I want to do yoga to lose weight," ask yourself why you want to relax and why you want to lose weight. Maybe your answers will be "I don't want to be tired when I go to work the next day," and "I want to lose weight so that I can be more svelte." Ask yourself "Why?" again, for each answer. Repeat this process three to five times for every item. As you continue to explore the reasons behind your ideal lifestyle, you will come to a simple realization. The whole point in — Marie Kondo

Our father came to sleep in our house that night. He carried a small suitcase with a black mourning suit and a pair of polished shoes. Corrigan stopped him as he made his way up the stairs. 'Where d'you think you're going?'Our father gripped the bannister. His hands were liverspotted and I could see him trembling in his pause. 'That's not your room,' sad Corrigan. Our father tottered on the stairs. He took another step up. 'Don't,' said my brother. His voice was clear, full, confidant. Our father stood stunned. He climbed one more step and then turned, descended, looked around, lost.
'My own sons,' he said.
We made a bed for him on a sofa in the living room, but even then Corrigan refused to stay under the same roof; he went walking in the direction of the city center and I wondered what alley he might be found in later that night, what fist he might walk into, whose bottle he might climb down inside. — Colum McCann

She had been struck by the figure of a woman's back in a mirror. She stopped and looked. The dress the figure wore was the color called ashes of roses, and Ada stood, held in place by a sharp stitch of envy or th woman's dress and the fine shape of her back and her thick dark hair and the sense of assurance she seemed to evidence in her very posture.
Then Ada took a step forward, and the other woman did too, and Ada realized that it was herself she was admiring, the mirror having caught the reflection of an opposite mirror on the wall behind her. The light of the lamps and the tint of the mirrors had conspired to shift colors, bleaching mauve to rose. She climbed the steps to her room and prepared for bed, but she slept poorly that night, for the music went on until dawn. As she lay awake she thought how odd it had felt to win her own endorsement. — Charles Frazier

One afternoon I lay on my bed, inert with mental fatigue, enumerating my many frustrations with the country & with the task I had set myself. It had taken me months of work to get this far, & every step of the way I felt I was pushing against some mighty, unspoken resistance. Time & time again I had felt that hardly a fact or a single item of information had been volunteered; every day I made half a dozen telephone calls; I trekked out to interview anyone who would talk to me, then found myself returning to the same place to ask for more information--questions I had omitted to ask, chase details they did not think, or perhaps wish, to supply. This was as true of people who had no reason to dissemble as of those who did. — Aminatta Forna

As Jack began to climb the stairs, Fiona looked up at her new home. Five stories of stately mansion
rose above her head. Heavy molding around the large windows and doors bespoke a quality and
craftsmanship that was obvious even in the dim night. "Good God! It's massive!"
Jack paused with his foot on the last step. "I do wish you'd keep those comments until we are in bed,
love. I would appreciate them all the more there. — Karen Hawkins

My Papa's Waltz: The whiskey on your breath Could make a small boy dizzy; But I hung on like death: Such waltzing was not easy. We romped until the pans Slid from the kitchen shelf; My mother's countenance Could not unfrown itself. The hand that held my wrist Was battered on one knuckle; At every step you missed My right ear scraped a buckle. You beat time on my head With a palm caked hard by dirt, Then waltzed me off to bed Still clinging to your shirt. — Theodore Roethke

Dad loves cheese. It doesn't agree with his digestive system very well, though. Dad also has the loudest, stinkiest farts in creation. I don't know how he manages to control them at work, or even if he does, but when he'd get home, he'd let them loose. They'd start as he walked up the stairs. Step, fart. Step, fart. Step, fart. I'd be laughing by the time he got to my room, and he'd lean over my bed and kiss me. His breath always smelled like peppermints. When — Sharon M. Draper

Remember this," Tyler said. "The people you're trying to step on, we're everyone you depend on. We're the people who do your laundry and cook your food and serve your dinner. We make your bed. We guard you while you're asleep. We drive the ambulances. We direct your call. We are cooks and taxi drivers and we know everything about you. We process your insurance claims and credit card charges. We control every part of your life. "We are the middle children of history, raised by television to believe that someday we'll be millionaires and movie stars and rock stars, but we won't. And we're just learning this fact," Tyler said. "So don't fuck with us. — Chuck Palahniuk

Come back to me." He laughs. It is not forced; it is the laugh of a happy man, confident in his luck and his abilities. "I will," he says. "Trust me. You have married a man who is going to die in his bed, preferably after making love to the most beautiful woman in England." He holds out his arms and I step towards him and feel the warmth of his embrace. "Make sure you do," I say. "And I will make sure that the most beautiful woman in your eyes is always me. — Philippa Gregory

I watched you roll off me and step away from the bed in silence, but when the heat of your body was gone, I wanted it back. — Julio Alexi Genao

Catch me, Seth," she invited.
He paused.
"Faeries chase," he said, an then , with a flirtatious smile, he turned away, but before he could take a second step, she was behind him, arms around him, lips pressed against his neck.
"I seem caught," he murmured.
The Summer Queen whispered, "Me too."
And They fell together in a bed of flowers that now covered the floor — Melissa Marr

Don't talk to me about gravity. When I get out of bed in the morning, I have to be careful not to step on my breasts. — Joan Rivers

Falling in love like that? Writing poetry, crying at pop songs? Dragging people into photo-booths, taking a while day to make a compilation tape, asking people if they wanted to share your bed, just for company? If you quoted Bob Dylan or T.S. Eliot or, God forbid, Brecht at someone these days they would smile politely and step quietly backwards, and who would blame them? — David Nicholls

If you love home - and even if you don't - there is nothing quite as cozy, as comfortable, as delightful, as that first week back. That week, even the things that would irritate you - the alarm waahing from some car at three in the morning; the pigeons who come to clutter and cluck on the windowsill behind your bed when you're trying to sleep in - seem instead reminders of your own permanence, of how life, your life, will always graciously allow you to step back inside of it, no matter how far you have gone away from it or how long you have left it. — Hanya Yanagihara

Girl, you got a couch and a bed. You don't even have a TV. You gotta step this shit up. — Kristen Ashley

The day exhausts me, irritates me. It is brutal, noisy. I struggle to get out of bed, I dress wearily and, against my inclination, I go out. I find each step, each movement, each gesture, each word, each thought as tiring as if I were lifting a crushing weight. — Guy De Maupassant

In her experience every man thought he was a natural dancer, and every one thought he was good in bed. The truth was that most men only knew one dance step - usually the pogo - and between the sheets they were like a monkey in a nature film poking at an anthill with a stick. — Chuck Palahniuk

Death tripped down the corridor, changing step, struck out here and there, danced pirouettes; often I felt his breath on my face when he was miles away; often I fell asleep and dreamed while he stood leaning over my bed. — Arthur Koestler

And from that instant I did not have to take another step; the ground moved forward under my feet in that garden where for so long my actions had ceased to require any control, or even attention, from my will. Habit had come to take me in her arms and carry me all the way up to my bed like a little child. — Marcel Proust

He knew it would take as many years as could think of now to forget the tracks, no matter how deeply buried. Some morning in autumn, spring, or winter he kn he'd wake and, if he didn't go near the window, if he just lay deep and snug and warm, in his bed, he would hear it, faint and far away.
And around the bend of the morning street, up the avenue, between the even rows of sycamore, elm and maple, it the quietness before the start of living, past his house h would hear the familiar sounds. Like the ticking of a doe the rumble of a dozen metal barrels rolling, the hum of single immense dragonfly at dawn. Like a merry-go-round like a small electrical storm, the color of blue lightning, coming, here, and gone. The trolley's chime! The hiss like a sc fountain spigot as it let down and took up its step, and starting of the dream again, as on it sailed along its way, traveling a hidden and buried track to some hidden and buried destination. — Ray Bradbury

I was only able to get over my past when I decided I was going to! As I've discovered, that's how everything starts. I decided to get out of bed this morning. I decided to get ready for work (D'oh! Another early morning). Everything I did today was because I made a decision. Although we can't set ourselves free, getting up and making a decision to move on from our past is a step in the right direction. We can't do God's part, and He won't do our part. He can't make that decision for you, because only you can. But once you have made that decision, He can help you with the rest. — Corallie Buchanan

In ballet, any dancer who asks himself what step comes next must freeze. Any man who takes a sex manual to bed with him invites frigidity. Dancing, sex, writing a novel
all are a living process, quick thought, emotion making yet more quick thought, and so on, cycling round. — Ray Bradbury