Breeches Quotes & Sayings

You Romans wash too much to be true men. Washing is for women, to clean our breeches and our vests. And even they barely let their toes touch the stream! Hah! — Andrew Levkoff

Her hand shot to the front of his breeches, making claws of her fingers and trapping his genitals in a tight grip. He froze. As if testing, she hefted the
firm weight she found. Heavy, but so very delicate.
She bared her teeth. "And even in the dark, now I'll know that I'm ripping off the right cods."
His eyes narrowed, and the hot interest she saw in his gaze sent shivers skittering down her spine. That wasn't just business now. She tightened her
grip. — Meljean Brook

You can't fit the same religion to every man any mo' than you can the same pair of breeches. The big man takes the big breeches an' the little man takes the small ones, an' it's jest the same with religion. It may be cut after one pattern, but it's might apt to get its shape from the wearer inside. Why, thar ain't any text so peaceable that it ain't drawn blood from somebody. — Ellen Glasgow

Did Raiders have enemies? Oh God! Of course they did! I read the stories. Maybe they weren't romanticized. Maybe the sea was filled with perils. Maybe he'd looted and pillaged and now it was payback time. And he was out there in nothing but breeches! — Kristen Ashley

One of the grandest figures that ever frequented Eastern Yorkshire was William Smith, the distinguished Father of English Geology. My boyish reminiscence of the old engineer, as he sketched a triangle on the flags of our yard, and taught me how to measure it, is very vivid. The drab knee-breeches and grey worsted stockings, the deep waistcoat, with its pockets well furnished with snuff-of which ample quantities continually disappeared within the finely chiselled nostril-and the dark coat with its rounded outline and somewhat quakerish cut, are all clearly present to my memory. — William Crawford Williamson

Onua smiled. She knew an old grievance when she heard one. "Then why wear 'em? Get yourself breeches and a shirt like me." Daine gaped at her. "Men's gear? With folk talking about me all the time as is?" Onua shook her head. "You're not home now. The rules have changed." Daine opened her mouth to object - then closed it. She looked at her skirts. To be rid of them, and the petticoats . . . it hit her, really hit her, that she was free of Snowsdale. What could they do to her now? — Tamora Pierce

It was always impossible to put a price on making your enemy shit their breeches. — Scott Lynch

There is no matter what children should learn first, any more than what leg you should put into your breeches first. Sir, you may stand disputing which is best to put in first, but in the meantime your backside is bare. Sire, while you stand considering which of two things you should teach your child first, another boy has learn't 'em both. — Samuel Johnson

Linnaeus, setting out for Lapland, surveys his "comb" and "spare shirt," "leathern breeches" and "gauze cap to keep off gnats," with as much complacency as Bonaparte a park of artillery for the Russian campaign. The quiet bravery of the man is admirable. — Henry David Thoreau

She swallowed and licked her lips. "It's rather good."
He laughed breathlessly. Have care, part of his brain whispered. This way only leads to pain. But his c*ck was pressing hard against the placket of his breeches and he wanted to take her hand and draw her away to his rooms and keep her there until she learned to scream in pleasure.
Until she screamed his name and no other. — Elizabeth Hoyt

Lord Rand," Nynaeve snorted. "That young man is growing too big for his breeches. When I get my hand on him, I'll lord him. — Robert Jordan

Papa's in a bad way, Locke. I wanted to see you before you saw him - he has some ... things he wishes to discuss with you. I want you to know that whatever he asks, I don't want you ... for my sake ... well, please, just agree. Please him, do you understand?"
"No garrista who loves life has ever tried to do otherwise. You think I'm inclined to walk in on a day like today and deliberately twist his breeches? If your father says 'bark like a dog' I say 'What breed, Your Honour? — Scott Lynch

Sharp!" called a voice from outside the stable.
It might as well have been the voice of God Himself, only he wasn't coming to save anyone.
She jerked her hand from Gabriel's breeches in a panic. "That's Poppy! He can't find us like this."
Gabriel stared at her uncomprehendingly for a second.
She shook him. "If he finds you here with me, there will be no wedding, no duel, no nothing except your handsome body speared on that pitchfork over there."
A lazy grin crossed his face. "You think I'm handsome?"
"Gabriel!"
"Oh, all right." He stood and brushed the straw from his skin and breeches."
-Gabriel and Virginia — Sabrina Jeffries

It was at times like this that one of those waves of bestiality ran through the mine, the sudden lust of the male that came over a miner when he met one of these girls on all fours, with her rear in the air and her buttocks busting out of her breeches. — Emile Zola

Could he be naked beneath his breeches? They
seemed molded to him, outlining the powerful lines of his thighs and the swell just above
Oh, God. She closed her eyes. She'd been looking at his - Not only was it rude, but it had sent an
amazing tingle through her, almost as if she'd touched it.
"Fiona, if you ever look at me like that again, I will not be held responsible for what I do." Jack was so
close that she could feel his breath on her temple. "Do you understand? — Karen Hawkins

To be a good Briton, a man must trade profitably, marry respectably, live cleanly, avoid excess, revere the established order, and wear his heart in his breeches pocket or anywhere but on his sleeve. — William Ernest Henley

I say and maintain, that of all torcheculs, arsewisps, bumfodders, tail-napkins, bunghole cleansers, and wipe-breeches, there is none in the world comparable to the neck of a goose ... — Francois Rabelais

I confess, as much as I enjoy you in breeches, you hold up that gown rather well."
She studied him through the eyeholes. "You truly have stopped trying to be charming."
"You're the most ravishing creature in the world, sweet Rue, even when hidden behind feathers and beads. How was that?"
"Adequate, if insincere."
"Then you mistake me." He took up her free hand and pressed her fingertips to his lips, gold to gold, sending a flash of sudden, sensual warmth stealing up her arm. His voice dropped to a huskier note. "I am utterly sincere."
-Kit & Rue — Shana Abe

Two hours later he was ready to kill her. Even his outraged mind, however, recognized that murder was not a viable option, and so he contented himself with devising various plans to make her suffer.
Torture was probably too trite, he decided, and he didn't have the stomach to use it on a female. Although ... He looked over at the person in the baggy breeches. She appeared to be smiling as she lugged the stones. She was no ordinary female.
He shook his head. There were other ways to make her miserable. A snake in her bed perhaps? No, the blasted woman probably liked snakes. A spider? Didn't everyone hate spiders? — Julia Quinn

Sebastian stretched. Clara stared. She could not help it. He was still in his breeches and shirt and she was riveted by the deliciously tight fit of the buckskins over his thighs.

"You could avert your eyes," Sebastian said mildly.

"I could," Clara agreed, "but I am not going to."

He smiled. "Hussy."

"I know. But I have waited a long time-- — Nicola Cornick

Is that you, Geordie?" he asked, not turning around. He was dressed in shirt and breeches, and had a small tool of some kind in his hand, with which he was doing something to the innards of the press. "Took ye long enough. Did ye get the - " "It isn't Geordie," I said. My voice was higher than usual. "It's me," I said. — Diana Gabaldon

Carrying a proper sword, is he? Those well-fed types do tend to crowd their breeches, or so I hear. — Scott Lynch

He went farther into the shadows to exchange his pants for the leather breeches. Too bad. When he emerged again, he looked pretty good even though it wasn't his style. And he was lucky there were no tights, after all. He tilted his head.
'You like it.'
'Shut up.' I blushed. I hated vampire extrasensory perception. It wasn't fair that he could hear my heartbeat or smell my skin or what ever.
'Girls are so weird.'
Kieran snorted. 'No kidding.'
'Please, you two were fighting ten minutes ago, and now you're the best of friends?' I said witheringly. 'Guys are weird. — Alyxandra Harvey

He that is conscious of a stink in his breeches is [suspicious] of every wrinkle in another's nose. — Benjamin Franklin

blue riding breeches, who were swarming near the bridge, and then at what was approaching — Leo Tolstoy

Looking for you, ye wee fool! And what in the name of all holy are you doing here? And dressed like that, God damn you!" He'd had the briefest look at her in her breeches and shirt, but it was enough. In her own time, the clothes would have been so baggy as to be sexless. After months of seeing women in long skirts and arisaids, though, the blatant division of her legs, the sheer bloody length of thigh and curve of calf, seemed so outrageous that he wanted to wrap a sheet around her. — Diana Gabaldon

Needy knife-grinder! whither are ye going? Rough is the road, your wheel is out of order; Bleak blows the blast-your hat has got a hole in it. So have your breeches. — George Canning

...you must not depreciate the power of well-fitted breeches upon a lady's admiration. — Mary Robinette Kowal

It is no matter what you teach them first, any more than what leg you shall put into your breeches first. You may stand disputing which is best to put in first, but in the mean time your breech is bare. Sir, while you are considering which of two things you should teach your child first, another boy has learned them both. — Samuel Johnson

You look pensive," he said quietly, holding his hand out from where he lay on the bed. He wore only his shirt and breeches. She went to him without protest. Why pretend when they really had so little time left together? He gathered her against him, her back to his front, and began plucking the pins from her coiffure. "Have I told you how much I admire your hair?" "It's just plain brown," she murmured. "Plain, lovely brown," he replied, raising a lock he'd freed to his face. "Are you smelling my hair?" she asked in amusement. "Yes." "Silly man," she said lightly. "Smitten man," he corrected, spreading her hair over her shoulders. "I've been watching you today." "In between escorting Miss Royle about the garden?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder at him. "Yes. I'd rather it'd been you, but that wouldn't've been prudent." He frowned down at the strands of her hair caught between his fingers. "Or, perhaps, safe. — Elizabeth Hoyt

Nathaniel Upchurch. Margaret couldn't believe it. Gone were the pale features, the thin frame, the hesitant posture, the spectacles. Now broad shoulders strained against his cutaway coat. Form-fitting leather breeches outlined muscular legs. The unfashionable dark beard emphasized his sharp cheekbones and long nose. His skin was golden brown. His hair unruly, some escaping its queue. Even his voice sounded different - lower, harsher, yet still familiar. — Julie Klassen

Be informed, also, that this good and savoury Parish is the home of Hectors, Trapanners, Biters who all go under the general appelation of Rooks. Here are all the Jilts, Cracks, Prostitutes, Night-walkers, Whores, Linnen-lifters, who are like so many Jakes, Privies, Houses of Office, Ordures, Excrements, Easments and piles of Sir-reverence: the whores of Ratcliffe High-way smell of Tarpaulin and stinking Cod from their continuall Traffick with seamen's Breeches. There are other such wretched Objects about these ruined Lanes, all of them lamentable Instances of Vengeance. And it is not strange (as some think) how they will haunt the same Districts and will not leave off their Crimes until they are apprehended, for these Streets are their Theatre. Theft, Whoredom and Homicide peep out of the very Windows of their Souls; Lying, Perjury, Fraud, Impudence and Misery are stamped upon their very Countenances as now they walk within the Shaddowe of my Church. — Peter Ackroyd

And suddenly his cock was out, jutting upward from his breeches like a fat pink mast. — George R R Martin

Pamela pulled off her cloak and Alexei gasped.
"You have on breeches!" He stared in disbelief. "Breeches!"
"I've never worn them before, and they are extremely comfortable. I quite like them." She smoothed the fabric over her hip. "Besides, you don't expect me to duel in a dress, do you?"
"I do not expect you to duel at all!"
Pamela ignored him. "That would be most unfair, dueling in a dress, unless, of course, you would be willing to wear a dress as well?"
"Don't be absurd." He snorted in disdain. "I have no intention of ever wearing women's clothing again."
"Again?" She raised a brow.
"It was an unavoidable disguise," he muttered. — Victoria Alexander

She made herself take two deep-rooted yoga breaths, smiled back, and thought of men in breeches. — Shannon Hale

Kill a man's family, and he may brook it, But keep your hands out of his breeches' pocket. — Lord Byron

The man was of fine figure, swarthy, and stern in aspect; and he showed in profile a facial angle so slightly inclined as to be almost perpendicular. He wore a short jacket of brown corduroy, newer than the remainder of his suit, which was a fustian waistcoat with white horn buttons, breeches of the same, tanned leggings, and a straw hat overlaid with black glazed canvas. At his back he carried by a looped strap a rush basket, from which protruded at one end the crutch of a hay-knife, a wimble for hay-bonds being also visible in the aperture. His measured, springless walk was the walk of the skilled countryman as distinct from the desultory shamble of the general labourer; while in the turn and plant of each foot there was, further, a dogged and cynical indifference personal to himself, showing its presence even in the regularly interchanging fustian folds, now in the left leg, now in the right, as he paced along. — Thomas Hardy

Anthony: Now lower your dress a little-
Roslynn: Anthony!
Anthony: This is no time for offended modesty ... You're the distraction.
Roslynn: Och, well, in that case.
Anthony: That's quite low enough, my dear ...
Roslynn: I was only trying to help,
Anthony: Commendable, but we want the chap to ogle you, not bust his breeches. — Johanna Lindsey

Faintly, Sara heard a noise from somewhere above them, the grating of wood against wood, but she thrust the sound from her mind. Then a voice called down from above, "Cap'n? Cap'n, you down here?"
Gideon tore his mouth from hers and jerked his hand back, a curse rumbling from his lips. "Yes, Silas, I'm here. I'll be with you presently."
Shame washed over Sara in buckets as she came out of her sensual fog. Good heavens, her hand was on his breeches! And he'd been touching her with an intimacy only allowed a husband!
As she snatched her hand away, the sound of descending footsteps echoed down to them. "Ive got to talk to you," Silas said, his words punctuated by the clumping sound of his wooden leg on the steps. "It's about that woman Louisa - "
"If you come any nearer, Silas" Gideon barked, "I'll have you keelhauled, I swear I will! — Sabrina Jeffries

He had been trussed up like a chicken in his own breeches. — Ted Rabinowitz

He [William Harvey] bid me to goe to the Fountain-head, and read Aristotle, Cicero, Avicenna, and did call the Neoteriques shitt-breeches. — John Aubrey

Why, sir," said he, looking about him, "what splendour I see: gold lace, breeches, cocked hats. Allow me to recommend a sandwich. And would you be contemplating an attack, at all?" "It had crossed my mind, I must admit," said Jack. "Indeed, I may go so far as to say, that I am afraid a conflict is now virtually inevitable. Did you notice we have cleared for action? — Patrick O'Brian

Laughter, I noticed a footman in old-fashioned knee breeches perched near the top of a — Sara Gruen

I shouldn't think I'll have the slightest problem playing a man," she said. "I shall merely remember to rearrange my breeches in front at least once an hour, thereby drawing attention to the padding I carefully placed there in the morning, and I'll blend in perfectly. — Eloisa James

All womankind, from the highest to the lowest love jokes; the difficulty is to know how they choose to have them cut; and there is no knowing that, but by trying, as we do with our artillery in the field, by raising or letting down their breeches, till we hit the mark. — Laurence Sterne

He wore black breeches, a black doublet, and a black mask adorned with silver. How fitting that he was already dressed in mourning clothes for his own funeral. — Victoria Roberts

The Lord Commander had given him his orders when they made their camp on the Fist. "You're no fighter. We both know that, boy. If it happens that we're attacked, don't go trying to prove otherwise, you'll just get in the way. You're to send a message. And don't come running to ask what the letter should say. Write it out yourself, and send one bird to Castle Black and another to the Shadow Tower." The Old Bear pointed a gloved finger right in Sam's face. "I don't care if you're so scared you foul your breeches, and I don't care if a thousand wildlings are coming over the walls howling for your blood, you get those birds off, or I swear I'll hunt you through all seven hells and make you damn sorry that you didn't." And Mormont's own raven had bobbed its head up and down and croaked, "Sorry, sorry, sorry. — George R R Martin

What do you want?" Sophronia was moved to exasperation.
"Me? Stockings and breeches to come back in fashion. I do miss seeing a man's calves. — Gail Carriger

Observe that noses were made to wear spectacles; and so we have spectacles. Legs were visibly instituted to be breeched, and we have breeches. Stones were formed to be quarried and to build castles; and My Lord has a very noble castle; the greatest Baron in the province should have the best house; and as pigs were made to be eaten, we eat pork all year round; consequently, those who have asserted all is well talk nonsense; they ought to have said that all is for the best. — Voltaire

We know but few man, a great many coats and breeches. — Henry David Thoreau

- Ay! Thornton o' Marlborough Mill, as we call him.
- He is one of the masters you are striving with, is he not? what sort of master is he?
- Did yo' ever see a bulldog? Set a bulldog on hindlegs, and dress him up in coat and breeches, and yo'n just getten John Thornton. — Elizabeth Gaskell

Do you carry a dagger, Your Highness?"
Raisa nodded. "I do, as a rule, but Micah and Fiona took mine."
"Then take this one." He wiped the blade on his breeches, returned the blade to a sheath at his waist, then unbuckled the belt, handing the whole package to her. Raisa slid the blade free, turning it so it caught the light. It was of the same make and design as the Lady sword, with the image of Hanalea worked into the hilt.
"I can't take this!" She protested. "It belongs to your family."
"I've not much use for it, in fact," Byrne replied. "If I let an enemy get close enough to need it, I deserve what I get. — Cinda Williams Chima

Aunt Alexandra was fanatical on the subject of my attire. I could not possibly hope to be a lady if I wore breeches, when I said I could do nothing in a dress, she said I wasn't supposed to do things that required pants. Aunt Alexandra's vision of my deportment involved playing with small stoves, tea sets, and wearing the Add-A-Pearl necklace she gave me when I was born; furthermore, I should be a ray of sunshine in my father's life. I suggested that one could be a ray of sunshine in pants as well, but Aunty said that one had to behave like a sunbeam, that I was born good but had grown progressively worse every year. — Harper Lee

Orlando curtseyed; she complied; she flattered the good man's humours as she would not have done had his neat breeches been a woman's skirts, and his braided coat a woman's satin bodice. Thus, there is much to support the view that it is clothes that wear us and not we them' we may make them take the mould of arm or breast, but they mould our hearts, our brains, our tongues to their liking. — Virginia Woolf

'The Duellists' won Cannes, but Paramount didn't know how to release a film about two guys in bizarre breeches, waving swords around. I actually think it's a pretty good Western. — Ridley Scott

We hate poetry that has a palpable design upon us - and if we do not agree, seems to put its hand in its breeches pocket. Poetry should be great & unobtrusive, a thing which enters into one's soul, and does not startle it or amaze it with itself but with its subject. - How beautiful are the retired flowers! how would they lose their beauty were they to throng into the highway crying out, "admire me I am a violet! dote upon me I am a primrose!" — John Keats

As nature made every man with a nose and eyes of his own, she gave him a character of his own, too; and yet we, O foolish race! must try our very best to ape some one or two of our neighbors, whose ideas fit us no more than their breeches! — William Makepeace Thackeray

Don Enrique says a full moon pulls up the highest tides of the month, at midday and midnight. And it pulls them down to their lowest ebb when it is rising or setting. So says a man in a frock coat and breeches who, if he tried to row a boat, would fall out instantly and drown. But Leandro said the same thing about the moon and high tide, so it might be true. How can you know if the moon is going toward full, or disappearing? This evening the moon was half, and Leandro said it's dying away. You can tell because it's shaped like the letter C, not curved forward like D. He says when the moon is D like Dios, it is growing to fill God's sky. When dying away it is C, like Cristo on the cross. So, no good tides again for many days. — Barbara Kingsolver

breeches and a rough smock — Diana Gabaldon

You'd have to take your shoes and breeches off to count to twenty-one! — Scott Lynch

Here was an unknown quantity-a child in breeches with a blue scarf wound around his neck whose job it was to get them out and back alive. This ... was the greatest terror of war: what you didn't know of the men who told you what to do-where to go and when. What if they were mad-or stupid? What if their fear was greater than yours? Or what if they were brave and crazy-wanting and demanding bravery from you? He looked away. He thought of being born-and trusting your parents. Maybe that was the same. Your parents could be crazy too. Or stupid. Still-he'd rather his father was with him-telling him what to do. Then he smiled. He knew that his father would take one look at the crater and tell him not to go. — Timothy Findley

He was more tired than he had a right to be, considering he'd done little more than tool along in the gig, stroll around the property, and talk with Anna. But he was exhausted, and he'd taken some sort of chill in the rain, and he could barely keep his eyes open. Still, he wasn't going to waste an opportunity to torment his intended duchess, so he stripped out of his shirt, his breeches, stockings, and smalls, and took the bucket to the hearth, the better to illuminate him for Anna's peeping eyes. Truth — Grace Burrowes

At least you didn't need to change your breeches."
He glanced up again instantly, pinning her eyes with his, his own suddenly gone lambent. "Now why didn't I think of that? Would it inspire you to ravish me? — Johanna Lindsey

Indian Creek, in its whole length, flows through a magnificent forest. There dwells on its shore a tribe of Indians, a remnant of the Chickasaws or Chickopees, if I remember rightly. They live in simple huts, ten or twelve feet square, constructed of pine poles and covered with bark. They subsist principally on the flesh of the deer, the coon, and opossum, all of which are plenty in these woods. Sometimes they exchange venison for a little corn and whisky with the planters on the bayous. Their usual dress is buckskin breeches and calico hunting shirts of fantastic colors, buttoned from belt to chin. They wear brass rings on their wrists, and in their ears and noses. The dress of the squaws is very similar. — Solomon Northup

Beatrix kept pace easily with Christopher as they headed toward the forest. It nagged at him to have someone else holding Albert's leash. Beatrix's assertiveness was like a pebble lodged in the toe of his shoe. And yet when she was near, it was impossible to feel detached from his surroundings. She had a knack of keeping him anchored in the present.
He couldn't stop watching how her legs and hips moved in those breeches. What was her family thinking, to allow her to dress this way? Even in private it was unacceptable. A humorless smile curved his lips as he reflected that he had at least one thing in common with Beatrix Hathaway--neither of them was in step with the rest of the world.
The difference was that he wanted to be.
It had been so easy for him, before the war. He had always known the right thing to do or say. Now the prospect of reentering polite society seemed rather like playing a game in which he had forgotten the rules. — Lisa Kleypas

These are Scottish lassies. They'll have been brought up to believe that Englishmen have long tails and cloven hooves."
"I'll be happy to prove there's no tail on this Sassenach," John said, grinning.
"Ah, but if they see you without breeches they'll know the other wee rumor about Sassenach men is true. They'd certain not have you then. — Lecia Cornwall

Aye, well, he'll be wed a long time," he said callously. "Do him no harm to keep his breeches on for one night. And they do say that abstinence makes the heart grow firmer, no?"
"Absence," I said, dodging the spoon for a moment. "AND fonder. If anything's growing firmer from abstinence, it wouldn't be his heart. — Diana Gabaldon

I confess, as much as I enjoyed you in breeches, you hold up that gown rather well."
"You truly have stopped tying to be charming."
"You're the most ravishing creature in the world, sweet Rue, even when hidden behind feathers and beads. How was that? — Shana Abe

Felix!" Lucien called out.
The valet popped his head into Lucien's bedchamber. "My lord?"
"Change of plans. Set out my finest black breeches, black hessians and a black silk shirt. Also, do I still have a black domino mask?"
Felix's eyebrows rose. "Are we dressing you for a specific occasion, my lord? I was under the impression that abductions were not among your interests." The valet's eyes were cool, but Lucien caught the glimmer of amusement there.
Lucien sometimes forgot that what were considered secrets upstairs were sometimes common knowledge downstairs. No doubt he referred to Miss Emily Parr's adventure some months before.
"Abductions, when done properly, can turn out quite satisfactory. But fear not, Felix, tonight I'm off to the Garden."

-Lucien & Felix. His Wicked Seduction — Lauren Smith

Her hair was matted to her head, glistening dark red, like wine through a murky bottle. Her torn shirt hung loose, a breast carelessly exposed, and her breeches were taut against the lean muscles of her legs. She treaded through the waves, never swaying in the current, until she stood before him, face concealed in shadow. "You swim faster with one arm than I with two," she said.
Nathan laughed. "You frightened me. — Matt Tomerlin

When they took a young man into Tellson's London house, they hid him somewhere till he was old. They kept him in a dark place, like a cheese, until he had the full Tellson flavour and blue-mould upon him. Then only was he permitted to be seen, spectacularly poring over large books, and casting his breeches and gaiters into the general weight of the establishment. — Charles Dickens

We know but a few men, a great many coats and breeches. — Henry David Thoreau

Clergymen have much the same in their breeches as other men. — Elizabeth Aston

Alas! sir," said Gringoire, "I would that I could lend you some, but, my breeches are worn to holes, and 'tis not crowns which have done it. — Victor Hugo

He was there below me, and, upon my word, to look at him was as edifying as seeing a dog in a parody of breeches and a featherhat, walking on his hind legs. — Joseph Conrad

Blood oozed from deep puncture wounds at his neck and shoulder. His right arm flopped unnaturally. From the middle of his back to his waist, the bear's raking claws left deep, parallel cuts. It reminded Harris of tree trunks he had seen where bears mark their territory, only these marks were etched in flesh instead of wood. On the back of Glass's thigh, blood seeped through his buckskin breeches. Harris — Michael Punke

But the observers were even more surprised by her thigh boots, black breeches, and the red leather corset she wore over a white shirt. It was a daring outfit, to say the least... She also wore a sword and rode her horse like a man. It was scandalous...
Page 37 of ARC — Pierre Pevel

There's no taking trout with dry breeches. — Miguel De Cervantes Saavedra

Oh, painted smirk of a hopeless dawn, the girl is still wearing her breeches ... — Frances Hardinge

He fumbled with something in his breeches. She had thought the past few minutes the most intense of her life, but they were nothing compared with the alarm and ashamed delight now rushing through her veins - until she realized he was only bringing out his pocket watch. — Jennifer Echols

He was not as she remembered. His features were the same, but his face was hard. Blue ice made his eyes. The bloody rips in his coat and breeches, the blood on his face, seemed to suit that face. — Robert Jordan

She's tall - maybe a mite too tall for some folks' notions - and mid-Victorian mamas would never have approved of her, because she's no more coy, or shy, or artful than the blue sky overhead. She has violet eyes, riotous hair of a shade between brown and gold, a straight, shapely little nose, a mouth that is all laughter, and a way of carrying herself that puts you in mind of all out-doors. I've seen her in evening dress with diamonds on; and much more frequently in riding-breeches and a soft felt hat; but there's always the same effect of natural-born honesty, and laughter, and love of trees and things and people. She's not a woman who wants to ape men, but a woman who can mix with men without being soiled or spoiled. For the rest, she's not married yet, so there's a chance for all of us except me. She turned me down long ago. — Talbot Mundy

What," came a deep male voice, "is this?"
Silence froze, her hand still outstretched, clutching a damp, dirty cloth. Oh, dear Lord. Slowly she raised her eyes and found herself face-to-thighs with Mickey O'Connor's extremely tight breeches. — Elizabeth Hoyt

There was no sound, but she felt a movement, a shifting of the air in her room, the warmth of another presence.
Isabel opened her eyes. He was there, at the foot of her bed, a single candle in his hand, dressed only in shirtsleeves, waistcoat, and breeches.
"Forgive me," he whispered as he set the candle down. "I could not stay away. — Elizabeth Hoyt

Why does it feel as if I've barely closed my eyes?"
"Possibly because you just have, my insatiable young minx. I should have remembered what effect Archibald's company had on your tolerance for wine."
"It was not the wine that kept me awake, sir. It was the brandy."
He glanced up from tucking his shirttails into his breeches and grinned wolfishly. "Perhaps next time we should try drinking it out of glasses."
"Perverted and lustful,"she grumbled crossly. "That's what you are. And far too knowledgeable of things decent men and women would never dream of going in their most wicked fantasies."
"Is that a complaint? — Marsha Canham

No one lacked imagination like the English. Yet he could not dismiss the notion that this lass dressed in breeches could be the seer his grandmother foretold. Finding an English lass lying on a Scottish hillside so many miles from the border was strange enough to have a touch of magic about it. — Margaret Mallory

Lauriat made his first trip in 1873 on one of Cunard's earliest steamers, the Atlas. His purchases routinely made news. One acquisition, of a Bible dating to 1599, a Geneva, or "Breeches," Bible - so named because it used the word breeches to describe what Adam and Eve wore - drew nearly a full column in the New York Times. — Erik Larson

Meissonier always spent many months researching his subject, finding out, for example, the precise sort of coats or breeches worn at the court of Louis XV, then hunting for them in rag fairs and market stalls or, failing that, having them specially sewn by tailors. — Ross King

She pinned him to the bulkhead with a kiss that was pure alchemy, and his hands found their way down her tunic, down to her breeches, where he unhitched her weapons belt with as much gratuitous fondling of the areas not covered by it as he could manage.
She took the belt from his hands and flung it against one of the stiffened canvas walls, where it struck with a clattering racket and slid to the floor. "If there is no way, make a way, Jean Tannen. Losers don't fuck in this particular cabin."
He picked her up, making a seat for her from his crossed arms, and whirled her around so that her back was against the bulkhead and her feet were dangling. He kissed her breasts through her tunic, grinning at her reaction. He stopped to put his head against her chest; felt the rapid flutter of her heart against his left cheek. — Scott Lynch

Red-heeled shoes and silk stockings clocked in black. Gray satin breeches with silver knee buckles. Snowy linen, with Brussels lace six inches deep at cuff and jabot. The coat, a masterpiece in heavy gray with blue satin cuffs and crested silver buttons, hung behind the door, awaiting its turn. — Diana Gabaldon

She felt his hands move to the fastening of his breeches, and then he swore under his breath as he was forced to roll off her in order to (in his words), "get the bloody things off." She couldn't help but chuckle at his profanity; he seemed to be having a much rougher time of it than she imagined was usual.
"You're laughing?" he asked, his brows rising into a daring arch.
"You should be glad I was already out of my gown," she told him. "Thirty-six cloth-covered buttons down the back."
He gave her a fearsome look. "It would not have survived. — Julia Quinn

The Chukchee, a people indigenous to Siberia, had their own special way of dealing with unruly winds. A Chukchee man would chant, "Western Wind, look here! Look down on my buttocks. We are going to give you some fat. Cease blowing!" The nineteenth-century European visitor who reported this ritual described it as follows: "The man pronouncing the incantation lets his breeches fall down, and bucks leeward, exposing his bare buttocks to the wind. At every word he claps his hands. — Robert Wright

I was intent on doing something productive and on being everything my parents taught me to be. Their values were clear: do good work; don't ever get too big for your breeches; always be an authentic person; don't worry too much about being famous and rich because that doesn't amount to too much. — Ruth Simmons

Now, look you here, Sekundar," says I, but he came up straight like a little bantam and cut me off.
"Sir Alexander. if you please," says he icily, as though I'd never seen him with his breeches down, chasing after some big Afghan bint. — George MacDonald Fraser

The saucy Miss Tottenham slipped the strawberry into her delectable mouth, all the while looking at Cyrus. His thigh muscles tensed inside the velvet prison of his breeches. Hot pleasure shot through his body at the sight of the red berry slipping through her lips. Adding to his misery, a spurt of juice from the tender morsel painted her bottom lip red. He nearly groaned.
Tradition named the apple as the fruit of man's downfall, but tonight he'd argue mightily for the dangers of a ripe strawberry on a certain woman's lips. — Gina Conkle

I like the pleasant things most women enjoy, even if I do wear breeches and boots on an expedition, even sleep in them at times ... but I powder my nose before going on deck, no matter how rough the sea is. — Louise Boyd

Ross stared a moment at the piece of flotsam he had brought home and hoped to salvage. She was standing there in her ragged shirt and three-quarter-length breeches, her matted hair over her face and the dirty half-starved puppy at her feet. She stood with one toe turned in and both hands loosely behind her back, staring across at the library. He hardened his heart. Tomorrow would not do. — Winston Graham

Compare with such a one the common rabble of mankind, stupid and mean-spirited, servile, instable, and continually floating with the tempest of various passions, that tosses and tumbles them to and fro, and all depending upon others, and you will find a greater distance than betwixt heaven and earth; and yet the blindness of common usage is such that we make little or no account of it; whereas if we consider a peasant and a king, a nobleman and a vassal, a magistrate and a private man, a rich man and a poor, there appears a vast disparity, though they differ no more, as a man may say, than in their breeches. — Michel De Montaigne

Laurence felt his face going red; she was sitting there in breeches that showed every inch of her leg, with a shirt held closed only by a neckcloth; he shifted his gaze to the unalarming top of her head and managed to say, Your servant, Miss Harcourt. — Naomi Novik

They were looking after themselves, living with rigid economy; and there was no greater proof of their friendship than the way their harmony withstood their very grave differences in domestic behaviour. In Jack's opinion Stephen was little better than a slut: his papers, odd bits of dry, garlic'd bread, his razors and small-clothes lay on and about his private table in a miserable squalor; and from the appearance of the grizzled wig that was now acting as a tea-cosy for his milk-saucepan, it was clear that he had breakfasted on marmalade.
Jack took off his coat, covered his waistcoat and breeches with an apron, and carried the dishes into the scullery. 'My plate and saucer will serve again,' said Stephen. 'I have blown upon them. I do wish, Jack,' he cried, 'that you would leave that milk-saucepan alone. It is perfectly clean. What more sanitary, what more wholesome, than scalded milk? — Patrick O'Brian