Chemise Quotes & Sayings

We ought to muse upon the things of God, because we thus get the real nutriment out of them. — Charles Spurgeon

Dali's Reclining Woman Wearing a Chemise looks like a dead slaughtered doll, and I can see preying eagles, broken arrows, and jazz musicians in Jackson Pollock, and because I believe that Man Ray and Duchamp were lovers. — Dionne Brand

Of making many books there is no end, and much study wearies the body — Ecclesiastes 12 12

Let the positivite in to be in a good one and Ignore the negativity in life thrown to you. — Maria Aiza

In New York, the impact of these concentrated superskyscrapers on street scale and sunlight, on the city's aniquated support systems, circulation, and infrastructure, on its already tenuous livability, overrides any aesthetic ... Art becomes worthless in a city brutalized by overdevelopment. — Ada Louise Huxtable

Alan lowered the lamp flame until there was only a glimmer of light in the room. His skin burned with fever as he climbed into bed beside Huiann. He felt like a groom on his wedding night except, he reminded himself, there would be no copulation. None. Not tonight. — Bonnie Dee

This child was well muffled up in a pair of man's trousers, but he did not get them from his father, and a woman's chemise, but he did not get it from his mother. Some people or other had clothed him in rags out of charity. Still, he had a father and a mother. But his father did not think of him, and his mother did not love him. He was one of those children most deserving of pity, among all, one of those who have father — Victor Hugo

I don't know. D'you think? He's pretty wide in the chest."
The girl looked at me, and I was frozen. So I said, "Yeah. I work out."
Violet asked me, "What are you? What's your cup size?"
I shrugged and played along. "Like, nine and a half?" I guessed. "That's my shoe size."
Violet said, "I think he'd like something slinky, kind of silky."
I said, "As long as you can stop me from rubbing myself up against a wall the whole time."
"Okay," said Violet, holding her hands up like she was annoyed. "Okay, the chemise last week was a mistake.
— M T Anderson

There was something elemental in the air, something that heated the blood and brought to the conscious mind desires long suppressed. Serena's body felt heavy and warm as she swayed involuntarily to the compelling music. The fire on such a steamy night was too much, and she felt an irresistible impulse to tear off her elaborate gown so she could dance freely in the sheer coolness of her chemise. Dance to the insistent music with one man's dark eyes watching her, devouring her, till he was forced to leap up and join her as was the young man who leaped up beside the Spanish woman. — Diane Gates Robinson

When we are headed the wrong way, the last thing we need is progress. — Nick Bostrom

I have been ... moved to wonder whether my job is a job or a racket, whether economists, and particularly economic theorists, may not be in the position that Cicero, citing Cato, ascribed to the augurs of Rome-that they should cover their faces or burst into laugher when they met on the street. — Frank Knight

This is my brother we're talking about, Maximus." "You'll take his part before mine?" Oh, he knew it was a mistake even before the words left his lips. Her shoulders squared. "If I must. We shared a womb. We're flesh and blood, tied together forever, both physically and spiritually. I love my brother." "As you don't me?" She stopped, her chemise in her hands before her. For a moment her shoulders slumped and then she raised her head. His goddess. His Diana. "When you've tired of me," she said softly, precisely, "Apollo will still be my brother. Will still be there for me." "I'll never tire of you," he said, knowing with every thread of his soul that he spoke the absolute truth. — Elizabeth Hoyt

There are so many different reasons as to why I love riding trains. But I think ultimately it's the romantic feeling of it. There's something about it that just transports me into old films. — Rosario Dawson

Take off your shirt," I said, sitting up and pulling at the hem of the garment.
"Why?" he asked, but sat up and obliged. I knelt in front of him, admiring his naked body.
"Because I want to look at you," I said. He was beautifully made, with long, graceful bones and flat muscles that flowed smoothly from the curves of chest and shoulder to the slight concavities of belly and thigh. He raised his eyebrows.
"Well then, fair's fair. Take off yours, then." He reached out and helped me squirm out of the wrinkled chemise, pushing it down over my hips. Once it was off, he held me by the waist, studying me with intense interest. I grew almost embarrassed as he looked me over.
"Haven't you ever seen a naked woman before?" I asked.
"Aye, but not one so close." His face broke into a broad grin. "And not one that's mine. — Diana Gabaldon

She shifted until his cock was under her. She rubbed herself against him, using his hard flesh to pleasure herself.
He arched under her, this big strong man. The tendons of his neck stood out; he flung wide his arms and clutched at the bedclothes. "Eve, what you do to me."
She watched him and slowly reached down to pull her sodden chemise up, up over her belly, over her breasts, over her head, undulating on him all the while. — Elizabeth Hoyt

At her gesture Michael cursed and caught her hand, falling suddenly atop her.
She stared up at him wondering what bedchamber faux pas she'd committed.
He groaned at her look. "I'll let ye pet and play all ye want - after. Now I need" - he pushed her chemise to her waist, parted her thighs, and settled between them - "to be inside ye. — Elizabeth Hoyt

The scene unfolded before him as though he were a ghost.
His mother stood on the raised stump, her body tied to the tall stake behind her. A pile of wood encircled her feet. Only a small crowd had gathered in the courtyard, despite his father's commands that all should attend. Alasdair sobbed at her feet, calling out to her. The young Alasdair climbed on the pile and clutched her flowing gown. She had been dressed in her finest, not stripped down to her chemise like the handmaid who stood tied to a post beside her. His father had always liked a display. Alasdair's hands reached and passed over his mother's large pregnant belly. With that, she sobbed, too. "Oh, Ali, be good for Momma. I'll see you in the pearly white heaven that God has promised us. Be steadfast, son. Trust your heart."
"Light it," his father ordered. — Jean M. Grant

Will." Her hands pulled at his shirt, and it came away, the buttons tearing, his head shaking free of the fabric, all wild dark hair, Heathcliff on the moors. His hands were less sure on her dress, but it came away as well, off over her head, and was cast aside, leaving Tessa in her chemise and corset. She went motionless, shocked at being so undressed in front of anyone but Sophie, and Will took a wild look at her corset that was only part desire.
"How - ," he said. "Does it come off?"
Tessa couldn't help herself; despite everything, she giggled. "It laces," she whispered. "In the back. — Cassandra Clare

Anna Journey, in her new book of poems, Vulgar Remedies, creates an alchemical self whose shimmering limbic / alembic lyrics distill the mysterious terrors of childhood, the dangerous passions of adults, into her own honey-dusk 'voodun': protective, purified to gold. Poetry is always a time machine: here we are invisible travelers to a bewitched past, a beautifully occluded future. These poems are erotic, vertiginous, revelatory, their dazzling lyric force reflecting profound hermetic life. — Carol Muske-Dukes

The roof of the front porch of the house is covered, for some reason, with moss, and also, on one side, with wisteria, which gives the house a sort of raffish Veronica Lake look, a disheveled charm. — Renata Adler

What do you want?" There was silence, broken only by a faint rustling. When he opened his eyes she was buttoning his banyan over her chemise. "Nothing, I think," she said to her hands. Then, "My freedom, perhaps." Freedom. He stared. What did freedom mean to such a wild creature? Did she want to be entirely quit of him? "I'll not let you go," he snapped. She glanced up at him and her look was sardonic. "Did I ask you to?" "Artemis - — Elizabeth Hoyt

In the future he would remember to be kinder to her clothing ... provided that she didn't look so damn good in them. — Jacquelyn Frank

If you genuinely believe that only the death of a loved one can motivate a human being to take up a cause ... then get your pathetic, cynical ass out of my way so I can do my job! — Mark Waid

In today's America He (Jesus) has moved from the central figure of world history to source material for late-night comics and pundits who would not dare treat other religious leaders with such disrespect. — David Jeremiah

She lives a sophisticate's life among worldly people. At the slightest excuse she steps out of civilization, naked and relieved, as I should step out of a soiled chemise. — Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings

He wanted to ravish; she merely nibbled. He wanted to plunder her senses; she let one hand drift through his hair. "Oh, for God's sake." He raised himself up on his arms and glared down at her. "Stop thinking, Maggie Windham, and stop worrying or I'll make you stop." Her brows knit. "It isn't something I can - Benjamin? Where are you going?" He hiked himself off the bed, flipped up the hem of her chemise, and knelt between her spread legs. She braced herself on her elbows, peering at him. "Benjamin?" "Hush. I'm busy." He ran the backs of his fingers up and down the silken skin of her inner thighs. When she slumped back on the bed, he let himself lean in and nuzzle curls slightly darker than the magnificent mane on her head. "Not thinking now, are you?" "You — Grace Burrowes

Mary Queen of Scots had a little dog, a Skye terrier, that was devoted to her. Moments after Mary was beheaded, the people who were watching saw her skirts moving about and they thought her headless body was trying to get itself to its feet. But the movement turned out to be her dog, which she had carried to the block with her, hidden in her skirts. Mary Stuart is supposed to have faced her execution with grace and courage (she wore a scarlet chemise to suggest she was being martyred), but I don't think she could have been so brave if she had not secretly been holding tight to her Skye terrier, feeling his warm, silky fur against her trembling skin. — Elizabeth Wein

Her purse is like Mary Poppins's bag - it holds way more than should be possible. — Tera Lynn Childs

My passion for ideas is not matched with a passion for partisan or electoral politics. — Jack Kemp

Perhaps we should spice up our next wager."
A wary look entered her blue eyes. "How?"
"By wagering your mother's necklace against ... your clothing."
She froze, her arms over her head, her eyes wide. "My clothing?"
"Yes. Your gown-against your mother's neckace." His body was already hard at the thought of her standing before him in nothing but her chemise and stockings.
Sophia lowered her arms with a teasing smile. "I doubt it will fit you."
A surprised laugh broke from him. "That would be a sight. But to be crystal clear, if I win this hand, you will disrobe for me. — Karen Hawkins

Lydia is enduring the same fate, I may remind you." Vincent remarked. "And she is doubtless freezing, being forced to stand there in only her chemise." A rakish smile spread across his features. "Perhaps we could go down and have a peek."
Rafe scowled. "I don't want you looking at my woman."
Vincent folded his arms and glared. "Well, I don't want you looking at my woman! — Brooklyn Ann