Big Lip Quotes & Sayings

I wonder if all mothers feel like this the moment they realize their daughters are growing up- as if it is impossible to believe that the laundry I once folded for her was doll-sized; as if I can still see her dancing in lazy pirouettes along the lip of the sandbox. Wasn't it yesterday that her hand was only as big as the sand dollar she found on the beach? That same hand, the one that's holding a boy's; wasn't it just holding mine, tugging so that I might stop and see the spiderweb, the milkweed pod, any of a thousand moments she wanted me to freeze? Time is an optical illusion- never quite as solid or strong as we think it is. You would assume that, given everything, I saw this coming. But watching Kate watch this boy, I see I have a thousand things to learn. — Jodi Picoult

Look I thought once you knew, you'd be pissed,' he says. 'I thought you'd think it was another one of my stupid pranks, and then I wouldn't get to spend time with you helping you find your mystery guy. And with as much as you care about love and MTB or whatever, I didn't think you'd ever forgive me for messing with your idea of a perfect romance. When all along ... well, what I was hoping you'd realize was ... '
'My mystery guy was you,'I finish in a whisper.
'Well, yeah,' he says. He reaches out and touches my chin-once, gently, 'I really like you, Julia. A lot. I-I want to be with you.'
A huge smile breaks across my face, so big my cheeks feel like they're going to detach from my jaw. I bite my lip. My whole body feels like it has been stuck inside an oven, and this time I let myself remeber, really remember, our kiss in the field. 'So the kiss ... it was for real? — Lauren Morrill

We danced on the lip of the volcano, so to speak. We were young, too. And New York was still a big, open city where anything could happen and anyone could be star. Rents were cheap, creativity was encouraged, and bottle service was still 20 years away. That was the era the Club Kids came into. — James St. James

I'm not big on lip color, but I like to have a little something. — Anna Kendrick

The thing that got Daley mad," one of the delegates said later, "was that Ribicoff had been ass-kissing him just a day or two before. He came over and pushed for McGovern to our delegation and made a big speech about what a great guy Daley was. Then he got up there and played the hero for the TV cameras."
Daley was on his feet, his arms waiving, his mouth working. The words were lost in the uproar, but it was later asserted by Mayday, an almost-underground Washington paper, that a lip-reader had determined that he said: "Fuck you, you Jew son of a bitch, you lousy motherfucker, go home. — Mike Royko

Now, as I understand it, the bards were feared. They were respected, but more than that they were feared. If you were just some magician, if you'd pissed off some witch, then what's she gonna do, she's gonna put a curse on you, and what's gonna happen? Your hens are gonna lay funny, your milk's gonna go sour, maybe one of your kids is gonna get a hare-lip or something like that - no big deal.
You piss off a bard, and forget about putting a curse on you, he might put a satire on you. And if he was a skilful bard, he puts a satire on you, it destroys you in the eyes of your community, it shows you up as ridiculous, lame, pathetic, worthless, in the eyes of your community, in the eyes of your family, in the eyes of your children, in the eyes of yourself, and if it's a particularly good bard, and he's written a particularly good satire, then three hundred years after you're dead, people are still gonna be laughing, at what a twat you were. — Alan Moore

Someone, or someones, more like it, had Little Mermaided their bathroom: There were Little Mermaid towels hanging on all the hooks and rods, a Little Mermaid rug in front of the double sinks . . . Little Mermaid cups and toothbrushes and kids' toothpaste on the counters . . . Little Mermaid shampoo and conditioner in the shower . . . action figures lined up on the lip around the tub and down the sill of the big window that looked out over the gardens. — J.R. Ward

I was watching Ashlee Simpson on Jay's show last night ... She was really singing, and I was saying, 'Bring back the lip synch.' ... And it struck me that Ashlee Simpson is a lot like George Bush-because she wouldn't even really be in the big leagues if it wasn't for family connections, and she's in way over her head. And she doesn't know what to do. And she blamed her band. — Bill Maher

They stood in silence for a few moments with Ryan watching him carefully. He was fiddling with his t-shirt and scuffing his sneaker against the floor as he appeared to turn something over in his mind. His expression went through a variety of metamorphoses before he finally sighed and shook his head.
"Y'know, I'm not a big expert on this stuff. I've never even been in a real relationship and I'm twenty-five, but like..." He trailed off for a minute, bit his lip and then shrugged before pressing on. "But I saw the way both of you guys were at the start of this whole thing, and if you two could have that kind of intense fire stuff considering the way you both were... I dunno, I wouldn't give up so easy. But then again, maybe I read too much fanfic. — Santino Hassell

She had a bottle of water in her pack - a big one with a squeeze-top - but suddenly all Trisha wanted in the world was to prime the pump in the little hut and get a drink, cold and fresh, from its rusty lip. She would drink and pretend she was Bilbo Baggins, on his way to the Misty Mountains. — Stephen King

You saw a ghost, didn't you?" he said.
To my relief, I managed to laugh. "Hate to break it to you, but
there's no such thing as ghosts."
Huh."
His gaze traveled around the laundry room, like a cop searching
for an escaped convict. When he turned that
piercing look on me, its intensity sucked the backbone out of me.
What do you see, Chloe?"
I -I-I don't s-s-s-"
Slow down." He snapped the words, impatient. "What do they
look like? Do they talk to you?"
You really want to know?"
Yeah."
I chewed my lip, then lifted onto my tiptoes. He bent to listen.
They wear white sheets with big eye holes. And they say 'Boo!'" I
glowered up at him. "Now get out of my
way."
I expected him tosneer. Cross his arms and say, Make me, little girl.His lips twitched and I steeled myself, then I realized he was smiling.Laughing at me.
He stepped aside. I swept past him to the stairs. — Kelley Armstrong

Wisteria hangs over the eaves like clumps of ghostly grapes. Euphorbia's pale blooms billow like sea froth. Blood grass twists upward, knifing the air, while underground its roots go berserk, goosing everything in their path. A magnolia, impatient with vulvic flesh, erupts in front of the living room window. The recovering terrorist
holding a watering can filled with equal parts fish fertilizer and water, paisley gloves right up over her freckled forearms, a straw hat with its big brim shading her eyes, old tennis shoes speckled with dew
moves through her front garden. Her face, she tells herself, like a Zen koan. The look of one lip smiling. — Zsuzsi Gartner

The very tiny mousebabe's paw shot up as he piped out, "Pleeze, Farver H'Abbit, can us stay up late to look for doors'n'keys pleeze?" Glisam sat watching the tiny mousebabe, scrambling up onto his lap. "No, I'm afraid you can't, little one." The Abbot rubbed his eyes wearily, knowing what was coming as the mousebabe stuck out his lower lip. "But why, Farver?" "Because you have to go to bed." "But why, Farver?" "Because you're only a babe, and you need your sleep." "But why, Farver?" "So you can grow up big and strong." "But why, Farver? — Brian Jacques

Devyn came up and kissed her on the cheek. He dropped his hand down to touch her stomach. "Did you tell her the news?" "News?" Shahara asked. Alix bit her lip before she spoke. "We're going to have a baby." The happy shout in her ear almost deafened her. "All right, you guys take care. I have to go make calls. If you thought the wedding was big, wait until you see the baby shower." Alix laughed as she hung up and put her arms around Devyn. "Thank you." "For what?" "For everything." He — Sherrilyn Kenyon

Graceful. Lean. Coordinated as she whirls, though how she knows what dancing is, [her grandfather] could never guess.

The song plays on. He lets it go too long. The antenna is still up, probably dimly visible against the sky, the whole attic might as well shine like a beacon. But in the candlelight, in the sweet rush of a concerto, Marie-Laure bites her lower lip, and her face gives off a secondary glow, reminding him of the marshes beyond the town walls, in those winter dusks when the sun has set but isn't fully swallowed, and big patches of red pools of light burn - places he used to go with his brother, in what seems like lifetimes ago. — Anthony Doerr

Rules and Things Number 63: Never, Ever Say Something Bad About Someone You Don't Know
Especially When You're Around a Bunch of Strangers. You Never Can Tell Who Might Be Kin to That Person or Who Might Be a Lip-Flapping, Big-Mouth Spy. — Christopher Paul Curtis

You have a taboo list?" Jade asked.
"You don't?" Lilah asked.
Jade bit her lower lip and Adam laughed. "Jade has a list for everything."
"True," Dell said, studying her, getting nothing from her expression. She had quite the game face, his Jade. "You do, you have lists for everything."
"Not everything."
"Jade, you have a list for every situation, big or small, from when to brush your teeth, to how to handle every potential patient to cross my door. Hell, you've got a list on what's in your purse and my office fridge and - "
"And don't forget the list on how many different ways I could kill you," she said, sipping her drink. — Jill Shalvis

Still another danger is represented by those who, paying lip service to democracy and the common welfare, in their insatiable greed for money and the power which money gives, do not hesitate surreptitiously to evade the laws designed to safeguard the public from monopolistic extortion.
Their final objective toward which all their deceit is directed is to capture political power so that, using the power of the state and the power of the market simultaneously, they may keep the common man in eternal subjection.
They claim to be super-patriots, but they would destroy every liberty guaranteed by the Constitution.
They are patriotic in time of war because it is to their interest to be so, but in time of peace they follow power and the dollar wherever they may lead. — Henry A. Wallace

The truth was that, with the Duchess de Luxembourg, with Mme de Morienval, Mme de Saint-Euverte and any number of others, the features that made their faces distinctive were a big red nose next to a hare-lip, or two wrinkled cheeks and a faint moustache. Such features cast their own spell well enough since, as a merely conventional form of handwriting, they enabled one to read a famous and impressive name; but ultimately they also gave rise to the notion that ugliness was somehow aristocratic, that it was a matter of indifference that the face of a grand lady should be beautiful, provided that it was distinguished. — Marcel Proust

I knew that people were going to talk about it, I knew it was embarrassing, and I knew it was a big deal. But did I think that it was going to be this thing that followed me for, you know, the next years to come? I guarantee you, 25 years from now, I'll be known as the girl that lip synced on 'SNL.' But, you know, it was a weird thing. Not fun. — Ashlee Simpson

We all line up except for this guy in a wheelchair, Devyn. He smiles at me when I line up, introduces himself. He has a movie star smile, just white teeth and charisma, big eyes, dark skin. He'd be perfect looking if he didn't have such a large nose, but the truth is it looks good on him, natural and powerful. He winks at Issie, who blushes.
"You can do it, Is," he says.
She rolls her eyes, twists her lip, and says, "As long as I don't pass out."
"If you pass out, I'll put you in my lap and wheel you across the finish line," he says, and it somehow isn't sleazy because you can tell by his eyes how much he cares about Issie. I instantly like him.
She blushes worse. Her face looks like she's already sprinted a mile. — Carrie Jones

Coach: "All right, Patch. let's say you're at a party. the room is full of girls of all shapes and sizes. You see blondes, brunettes, redheads, a few girl with black hair. Some are talkive, while other appear shy. You've one girl who fits your profile - attractive, intelligent and vulnerable. Dow do you let her know you're interested?"
Patch: "Single her out. Talk to her."
Coach: "Good. Now for the big question - how do you know if she's game or if she wants you to move on?"
Patch: "I study her. I figure out what she's thinking and feeling. She's not gonig to come right out and tell me, which is why i have to pay attention. Does she turn her body toward mine? Does she hold me eyes, then look away? Does she bite her lip and play with her hair, the way Nora is doing right now? — Becca Fitzpatrick

That's the thing about saying "sorry" or "excuse me" in this city. No one ever does. Or when we do apologize, we don't actually say it clearly. We just whisper the outline of excuse me or form the word sorry with our mouth, as if we expect people to lip-read. — Susane Colasanti

Then I get up and turn on the light. (Did anyone notice I was in here in the dark? Did they see the lack of light under the crack and notice it like a roach? Did Nia see?) Then I look in the mirror. I look so normal. I look like I've always looked, like I did before the fall of last year. Dark hair and dark eyes and one snaggled tooth. Big eyebrows that meet in the middle. A long nose, sort of twisted. Pupils that are naturally large - it's not the pot - which blend into the dark brown to make two big saucer eyes, holes in me. Wisps of hair above my upper lip. This is Craig. — Ned Vizzini

Okay, raise your hand if you've ever (1) dropped food or ice cream or a drink in front of (or on) someone; (2) realized you had a big stain on your clothes and it has apparently been there all day and people must have seen it but no one said anything (extra points if it's related to a female cyclic event); (3) realized after an important dinner with someone that you had a big crumb on your lip and that's what they kept trying to subtly signal you about but you didn't pick up on it; (4) mispronounced an obvious word in front of a bunch of people. I could go on. The point is, those kinds of things happen to everyone. I bet you're still upset or embarrassed about it, right? Well, you can freaking get over your lame-ass, sissy-pants, drama-queen self. When — Cate Tiernan

Everything will be okay. Trust me. I don't know how many times he's said that to me, not just here in prison but my whole life. When I was scared for the first day of school, or stressed about a big test; when I fell off my bike in sixth grade and split my lip. When my mom got sick. I always believed him. He's my father, he wouldn't lie to me; he's a grown-up, he knows the truth. But now I see his promises for what they really are: hopeful prayers, a mantra he says as much to reassure himself as me. He can't fix this, not even close. — Abigail Haas

Call me Mac," he said.
Mackadocious is more like it.
"For the next month, I will be your writing instructor..."
Lip Macking Good.
"It was Alfred, Lord Tennyson, who said, 'Words, like Nature, half reveal and half conceal the Soul within...'"
Big Mac Attack.
"Here, in the next five weeks, I hope you do more revealing than concealing..."
Oh, I'll reveal more than that if you want me to, Mac Daddy. — Megan McCafferty

Lipstick doesn't really suit me. For shoots or when I go out, I use it - but if I use it all the time, it makes me look really old, so I keep it natural with nude or a natural pink. Though I did just do a shoot where they did a big red lip, and it looked amazing. — Jess Glynne

Werner shyly. "Oh, come on, you didn't already know?" With his glasses on, Frederick's expression seems to ease; his face makes more sense - this, Werner thinks, is who he is. A soft-skinned boy in glasses with taffy-colored hair and the finest trace of a mustache needled across his lip. Bird lover. Rich kid. "I barely hit anything in marksmanship. You really didn't know?" "Maybe," says Werner. "Maybe I knew. How did you pass the eye exams?" "Memorized the charts." "Don't they have different ones?" "I memorized all four. Father got them ahead of time. Mother helped me study." "What about your binoculars?" "They're prescription. Cost a fortune." They sit in a big kitchen at a butcher's block with a marble cap. The maid named Fanni emerges with a dark loaf and a round of — Anthony Doerr

You're not fighting for abstractions. No one does. Humans pay lip service to that, to big causes and great purposes, but any politician of any skill soon learns that what really motivates people is the small, personal things. Close friends, family, the small area they call home. They wrap those things around ideals and call them precious, but they're precious for the smallest and closest of reasons. Soldiers may swear to fight for their flag, but they really fight because of the soldiers next to them. — Jack Campbell

And suddenly I got what the big deal was about kissing. How someone could suck on your bottom lip and make you come completely undone. That someone stroking the hair back from your face could make you swoon and someone sliding his hands underneath your top could make you feel wanted for the first time in your life. — Sarra Manning

I've decided to call him Norbert,' said Hagrid, looking at the dragon with misty eyes. 'He really knows me now, watch. Norbert! Norbert! Where's Mummy?'
'He's lost his marbles,' Ron muttered in Harry's ear.
'Hagrid,' said Harry loudly, 'give it a fortnight and Norbert's going to be as big as your house. Malfoy could go to Dumbledore at any moment.
Hagrid bit his lip.
'I- I know I can't jus' dump him, I can't.'
Harry suddenly turned to Ron.
'Charlie,' he said.
'You're losing it too,' said Ron. 'I'm Ron, remember? — J.K. Rowling

Marie Caroline Jensen, will you marry me?" he asked suddenly, looking right into my eyes. I bit my lip, trying to decide how long to drag it out. Maybe a little longer ... he'd used the "b" word, I should probably make him suffer. I looked away, refusing to meet his eyes as he stopped laughing and grew still.
"Marie?" he asked, his voice suddenly strained. "Oh fuck, don't do this to me, please. I - "
"Yes," I said, catching his eye and smirking. "I'll marry your big, dumb ass but only because you said the magic word."
"Fuck? You're right, that is a magic word. Let's test it out. — Joanna Wylde

Her nostrils flared as she inhaled. There was a musky scent in the air, salty and animal, and it made her clench her legs together.
He grinned suddenly, his white teeth gritted together, as if he knew what he did to her. His fist was moving faster now, the deep red head of his cock appearing and disappearing between his fingers. It shone, fully revealed, and so big she bit her lip.
"Now," he grunted. "Now, Eve, watch me. Are you watching me?"
"Yes," she moaned.
The muscles stood out in his neck as a white liquid erupted from his cock, flowing and spurting, his legs shaking, his hand slowing.
And the entire time he watched her. — Elizabeth Hoyt

She bit her lip; she missed Ash. It was like a pain in her ribs, an ache that wouldn't cease. His experience would have been a big help, but more than that, he never made her feel inferior. Funny how her father was so good at that. — Annette Marie

The heavy eyelids snapped open. Jack froze.
A huge gold-and-amber eye, as big as a dinner plater, stared at him. The dark pupil shrank, focusing.
Jack stood very still.
The colossal head turned, the scaled lip only three feet from Jack. The golden eyes gazed at him, wirling with fiery color.
Jack breathed in tiny, shallow breaths.
Dont blink. Don't blink ...
Two gusts of wind erutped from the wyvern's nostrils Jack jumped straight up, bounced off the ground into another jump, and scrambled up the nearest tree.
In the clearing, Gaston bent over, guffawing like an idiot.
'It's not funny! — Ilona Andrews

We [can] catch fish and just throw them back ... it [doesn't] seem to hurt the fish much past a cut lip. But then ... one [may] swallow the hook ... [it'd be] a goner, whether we tried to pull it out or just cut the line. Because once you've swallowed the hook, there's no losing it. Me, I've swallowed it big time. — Graham McNamee

He left Molie's at ten past midnight, twelve hundred New Dollars lighter. The pawnbroker had also sold him a limited but fairly effective disguise: gray hair, spectacles, mouth wadding, plastic buck-teeth which subtly transfigured his lip line. "Give yourself a little limp, too," Molie advised. "Not a big attention-getter. Just a little one. Remember, you have the power to cloud men's minds, if you use it. Don't remember that line, do ya?" Richards didn't. — Richard Bachman

William glanced at her sword. His upper lip rose, showing her his teeth. My, my, Lord Bill, what big fangs you have. That was all right. She wasn't Red Riding Hood, she wasn't scared, and her grandmother could curse his ass so hard, he wouldn't know which way was up for a week. — Ilona Andrews

Things that remind me of Mother are these:
the truth 'mid deception, a warm summer breeze,
the calm within chaos, a stitch in a rip,
a comforting blanket, the smile on her lip,
an ocean of love in a heart big as whales,
the morals in everyday stories she tells,
a wink amid laughter, the wisdom in books,
the peace in humility, beauty in looks,
the light and the life in a ray of the sun,
the hard work accomplished disguised as pure fun,
concern in a handclasp, encouragement too,
the hope in a clear morning sky azure blue,
the power in prayers uttered soft and sincere,
the faith in a promise, and joy in a tear.
These things all attest to the wonder and grace
of my precious mother, none else could replace. — Richelle E. Goodrich

Come on, Avery." Fresh tears stained her cheeks. Her voice shook. "Wake up,
damn it!" She sobbed, rocking forward and back, her arms wrapping tightly
around his big body. "Don't you want to shout at me for disobeying you, you
overbearing, domineering male?"
She squeezed her eyes shut and bit hard on her lip. He couldn't die. He was too
stubborn, too alive, too vigorous. And she couldn't lose him. She loved him too
much.
"I ... am a ... gentleman," she heard him gasp. "I never shout at women. — Connie Brockway

The Wolf curled his lip in distaste, eyeing the raft as if it might lunge at him. "You expect to reach the End of the World on that? Do you know the things that live in the River of Dreams? And we're not even at the nightmare stretch yet."
"Aw, is the Big Bad Wolfie afraid of a few nasty fish?"
The Wolf gave him a baleful stare. "You wouldn't say that if you'd seen some of the fish in the Deep Wyld, Goodfellow. But more important, how will you ever reach the End of the World if I bite your head off? (The Iron Knight) — Julie Kagawa

The sight of a scorpion as big as her hand had her scrambling back . . . wedging herself firmly against MacRieve - a very awkward position to be in with anyone, but especially with a werewolf.
He stiffened all around her. Every inch of him. She felt his arms bulging over her shoulders and his chiseled abs taut over her back.
His growing erection strained thick against her backside. So the rumors about male werewolves are true, she thought dazedly. Exhibit A is quite insistent.
"Move forward," he said, grating the words. He was breathing heavily right over her ear.
"No way. Kind of between a scorpion and a hard place here." She bit her lip, wishing one of her friends had heard her say that. — Kresley Cole

. "Well precious, let this be a lesson." He snapped my hands above my head, gripping them both with only one of his. He slid his fingers down my cheek, pausing to run his thumb over my bottom lip. "You shouldn't come out to play until you have the power to party like a big girl." ~ Reese Patcher — Trisha Wolfe

Would get angry through the greatness of his thirst, and take a terrible vengeance. So he sweated and fired up and watched the glass fearfully (with an impromptu charm, made of rags, tied to his arm, and a piece of polished bone, as big as a watch, stuck flatways through his lower lip), while the wooded banks slipped past us slowly, the short noise was left behind, the interminable miles of silence - and we crept on, towards Kurtz. — Joseph Conrad

People, particularly big men carrying big rifles, don't expect lip from a scrawny thing like me. They always look a bit dazed when they get it. — Leigh Bardugo

You're letting me go?"
He curled his upper lip, his expression painfully bitter as he took a step back from me.
"Apparently ... I never had a hold of you." He turned sharply, and without another word striding down the street into the dark.
Braden never once looked back and that was a good thing.
If he had, he'd have seen Jocelyn Butler crying real tears for the first time in a long time, and he would have known that I'd lied. And lied big. For anyone who saw me, knew they were watching a heart in the process of it breaking. — Samantha Young

He's as bad as my mother. Maybe worse. He's a market-research consultant. He studies people's facial expressions to see how they feel about commercials and products. He used to be a psychologist but he makes more money helping big corporations dupe the public. The worst part is he can look at your face and say 'Your upper lip just twitched! Anger! You're angry. Don't try to hide it from me, young man. Why does it make you angry when I say those pants make you look like a girl? Doe you have something against girls? Perhaps some unresolved Oedipal feelings? — Natalie Standiford

I...I'm sorry," Kylie mumbled.
"Don't you even try to talk your way out of me being pissed!" Burnett growled. "Not a word!"
"I just..."
"That's two words and I said not one!" he snapped, and he swiped his hand through the air for emphasis.
Kylie bit down on her lip, and wouldn't you know it that's when the tears started flowing. Big, fat, and fast tears. She sniffled and wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. Her breath caught in her chest. But damn it. Why couldn't this have happened when she was alone?
"Those tears do not affect me, young lady!" He pointed a finger at her. While she couldn't hear his heart beat to the rhythm of a lie, she heard it in his voice.

***

"I just..."
"Did I say you could talk?" he asked. He did three more pacing laps, as if working off steam, before he looked at her again. "Where were you going, Kylie?"
When she just looked at him, he bit out, "Answer me."
"You said I couldn't talk. — C.C. Hunter