Bedsprings Quotes & Sayings

I can listen to my own heartbeat against the bedsprings, I can stroke myself, under the dry white sheets, in the dark, but I too am dry and white, hard, granular; it's like running my hand over a plateful of dried rice; it's like snow. There's something dead about it, something deserted. I am like a room where things once happened and now nothing does, except the pollen of the weeds that grow up outside the window, blowing in as dust across the floor. Here — Margaret Atwood

the Count bounced twice on his new mattress to identify the key of the bedsprings (G-sharp), — Amor Towles

I don't believe that hard work equals success. It can, and maybe it should, but I know that it doesn't. There's a very slight relationship between the two. — Steven Conrad

The single biggest existential threat that's out there, I think, is cyber. — Michael Mullen

Caleb pushed back his chair and fetched his hat from the bed, but not before he put his hand on the mattress and pressed to make the bedsprings squeak. The sound was so loud that Lily cringed, knowing what Wilbur and his men would think. "Caleb, stop!" she cried angrily. Caleb only grinned at her and repeated the process, once, then again, then again and again. "Damn you," Lily whispered, "stop it." He paused, watching the color climb her face. After deliberately stalling for several minutes he put on his hat, swatted Lily on the bottom as he passed her, and left the shack whistling. Loudly. Lily was so mortified that she could not bring herself to go outside, even after she heard Caleb riding away. — Linda Lael Miller

Take your clothes off."
"What?"
"You heard me."
Evelyn forced her mouth shut.
She looked around the room, buying time. The faded brown curtains hung limply over the windows, not quite touching, and the afternoon light filtered through the gaps, its beams turning the dust in the air into diamonds. She could hear the rattle of a wagon on the street below and the regular rhythm of squeaking bedsprings in the adjacent room.
"So? What are you waiting for?"
She stared at the man on the moth eaten chaise longue in front of her. He was serious. — Molly Ann Wishlade

Anyway, as Hannibal Smith of the A Team said, overkill is underrated. — Craig Alanson

There are no shortcuts because there is no end — Kyuzo Mifune

A few minutes later, he heard, floating down the hallway outside, the steady creak of bedsprings, a metronomic nightmare in the darkness. — Stephen Lloyd Jones

To get promoted, company executives need to be able to see you as one of them. — Dale Dauten

American voices, country voices, high-pitched and without mercy. He lies freezing, wondering if the bedsprings will give him away. For possibly the first time he is hearing America as it must sound to a non-American. Later he will recall that what surprised him most was the fanaticism, the reliance not just on flat force but on the rightness of what they planned to do ... he'd been told long ago to expect this sort of thing from Nazis, and especially from Japs - we were the ones who always played fair - but this pair outside the door now are as demoralizing as a close-up of John Wayne (the angle emphasizing how slanted his eyes are, funny you never noticed before) screaming BANZAI! — Thomas Pynchon

He falls asleep quickly. I lie awake and listen to lights being switched off all over the town. Whispered
goodnights. The drowsy creak of bedsprings.
I find Adam's hand and hold it tight.
I'm glad that night porters and nurses and long-distance lorry drivers exist. It comforts me to know that
in other countries with different time zones, women are washing clothes in rivers and children are filing to
school. Somewhere in the world right now, a boy is listening to the merry chink of a goat's bell as he
walks up a mountain. I'm very glad about that. — Jenny Downham

Bedsprings creaking, headboard banging, heavy breathing in triplicate (the bedroom sounds like a convention of asthmatic dirty phone callers have gathered there) — Gillibran Brown

Can I be blamed for wanting a real body, to put my arms around? Without it I too am disembodied. I can listen to my own heartbeat against the bedsprings ... but there's something dead about it, something deserted. — Margaret Atwood

Some writers, of course, simply write, as they feel they are driven to do, by outer/inner inspirations. If, after the work is written and, hopefully, published, others respond
that is the Champagne. But we, or some of us, don't write for the Champagne. We write because we write. — Tanith Lee

And then he kissed her. Slow and easy, just their mouths touching, and then he felt her tongue. He let his join hers as they explored each other's mouths. — Kate Forster