Clinking Quotes & Sayings

I love how intimate I've become with failure. — Bob Hicok

Good housewives all the winter's rage despise, Defended by the riding-hood's disguise; Or, underneath the umbrella's oily shade, Safe through the wet on clinking pattens tread, Let Persian dames the unbrella's ribs display, To guard their beauties from the sunny ray; Or sweating slaves support the shady load, When eastern monarchs show their state abroad; Britain in winter only knows its aid, To guard from chilling showers the walking maid. — John Gay

The moonlight fell across her gold strands, looking for all the world like copper threads. I half expected them to sing in clinking charms every time her head moved. I hugged her closely to me, hoping to squeeze the bad memories from her life. I'd absorb them from her, if I could. Just take them and endure the obvious ache they caused her. - Callum Tate from Callum & Harper — Fisher Amelie

Households that have lost the soul of cooking from their routines may not know what they are missing: the song of a stir-fry sizzle, the small talk of clinking measuring spoons, the yeasty scent of rising dough, the painting of flavors onto a pizza before it slides into the oven. — Barbara Kingsolver

Signs are my food, drink are my tears; Clinking of fetters such music would crave; Stink and close air, away my life wears Innocency is all the hope I have. - Sir Thomas Wyatt — David Johnson

I love you, he thought, because you are honest with me and because you are willing to speak the truth to me when others might seek to curry favor instead. I love you because you are in this bed with me, not trying to conceive the much-awaited next generation of Windhams, but just holding my hand.
Gayle Windham — Grace Burrowes

Anyway, I'm in bed with her, with her bracelets. Her face is a blank, so I darken the lights. Off go her silky undergarments. The bracelets are all she has on. They glint slightly, a pleasant muffled clinking on the sheets. I have a hard-on.
Which, halfway down the ladder, is what I noticed. Just great. Why now? Why didn't I get an erection when I needed one? And why was I getting so excited over two lousy bracelets? Especially under this slicker, with the world about to end. — Haruki Murakami

Although it is no longer customary to offer visitors a straw through which to drink from a communal vat of beer, today tea or coffee may be offered from a shared pot, or a glass of wine or spirits from a shared bottle. And when drinking alcohol in a social setting, the clinking of glasses symbolically reunites the glasses into a single vessel of shared liquid. These are traditions with very ancient origins. — Tom Standage

There was a sound of movement, of clinking glass: Amycus was coming round. Before Harry or Luna could act, Professor McGonagall rose to her feet, pointed her wand at the groggy Death Eater, and said, "Imperio."
Amycus got up, walked over to his sister, picked up her wand, then shuffled obediently to Professor McGonagall and handed it over along with his own. Then he lay down on the floor beside Alecto. Professor McGonagall waved her wand again, and a length of shimmering silver rope appeared out of thin air and snaked around the Carrows, binding them tightly together.
"Potter," said Professor McGonagall, turning to face him again with superb indifference to the Carrows' predicament. — J.K. Rowling

You probably know why I'm here. If you could hear me, talk to me, you'd probably ask me what the hell took me so long. Then you'd tell me what's been in my heart for months now. I know you'd want me to be happy, and I am. When you left, I thought you'd taken everything I had with you. Dex helped me see how wrong I was. You left everything there for me to give to someone else crazy enough to love me. I'll never forget you, Gabe." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a long chain, the small dog tags clinking together. Sloane didn't bother to hide the tears in his eyes. He smiled and let out a shaky breath before placing the dog tags on the tombstone. He put his fingers to his lips for a kiss before moving them to the black marble. "Good bye, sweetheart. Thank you for everything." Sloane — Charlie Cochet

That's my thing - keep filled with faith. Keep doing what you can do and I believe God will do what you can't do. — Joel Osteen

An image of God doesn't contain God, in the same way a word about God or a doctrine or a dogma about God isn't God; it only points to God. — Rob Bell

To have him walk toward her with that intent look on his face, as if nothing in the world could satisfy him but her. Damn — Eloisa James

This is a cardinal Ya-Ya rule: you must meet each person's eyes while clinking glasses in a toast. Otherwise, the ritual has no meaning, it's just pure show. And that is something the Ya-Yas are not. — Rebecca Wells

A great deal of my mail comes from fans of the 'Oz' picture - fans of all ages. The scholarly, the curious, the disbelievers write and ask how? why? when? what for? did you fly? melt? scream? cackle? appear? disappear? produce? sky-write? deal with monkeys? etc., etc., etc. — Margaret Hamilton

...they took him, in his frenzy of love, for a mad dog that had broken loose-- and he really looked terrifying: so emaciated that his ribs showed, a yellow film over his eyes, panting hoarsely and with his loose collar clinking as he ran headlong with frightening single-mindedness toward his unknown goal. — Georgi Vladimov

Let's get drunk," I state, clinking my glass with his.
"Sure you want to do that?" Dorian says with a raised eyebrow. He gives me that look a lot, probably because of all my questionable behavior.
"I'm not sure of anything anymore," I say with a cynical chuckle. "But I know I'm tired of disappointment. And I'm tired of keeping secrets. And I'm tired of fucking things up!"
Dorian nods, understanding my frustration. "Do you want me to help you?" he asks quietly. I know what he means. Dorian is offering to fix me like he did the day before.
"No," I shake my head. "I want you to drink with me. Then I want you to do things to me that are as dirty and immoral as I already feel." I take another hefty gulp and let the searing burn strip away the guilt and shame in my chest.
"Ok, let's get drunk." And with that Dorian downs the entire contents of his glass and turns on the music. — S.L. Jennings

I rooted around the kitchen for a coffee pot, confused by the prehistoric model sitting in one of the cabinets. I brushed off the dust and plugged it in; it took me nearly thirty minutes to figure out how to turn the damn thing on, and once I had two cups of coffee, they had the consistency of burnt mud.

"Cheers," I said, clinking my mug against Molly's. "Don't actually drink it though."

She sniffed the top of the mug.

"Just inhale deeply and hope you get some caffeine through your nasal passages. — R.S. Grey

The internet is just a world passing notes around a classroom. — Jon Stewart

Bogart, Bacall and Balls
Can a man trust a woman with a voice
an octave lower than his?
I suspect Judi Dench's testicles
descended long before mine,
femme nasal, Fran Drescher,
has a clinking pair made of brass,
and Bea Arthur's cock
is as thick as Roseanne's ass.
On the other hand, Lauren Bacall's voice
was more sultry than husky,
deep because she smoked two packs a day.
No way she was hanging,
or Humphrey would've Bogarted her joint. — Beryl Dov

Pull on the cold, clinking mail of your professional detachment, Archeth Indamaninarmal, inhabit it until it starts to feel warm and accustomed, and in time you'll forget you're wearing it at all. You'll only notice when it works, when it stops you feeling the steel-edged bite of something that might otherwise have gotten through and done you some damage. And then you'll just grin and shiver and shake off the blow, like warriors do. — Richard K. Morgan

What is this Charity, this clinking of money between strangers, and when did Charity cease to be a comforting and secret thing between one friend and another? Does Love make her voice heard through a committee, does Love employ an almoner to convey her message to her neighbor? ... The real Love knows her neighbor face to face, and laughs with him and weeps with him, and eats and drinks with him, so that at last, when his black day dawns, she may share with him, not what she can spare, but all that she has. — Stella Benson

Murder in a small town is always more than a paragraph in the local paper. In a place so insulated, where lives are so small and gone about so quietly, violent death hangs in the air - tinting everything crimson, weaving itself into the shimmering heat that rises off the winding asphalt roads at noon. It oozes from taps and runs through the gas pumps. It sits at the dinner table, murmuring in urgent low tones under the clinking of glassware. — Kat Rosenfield

Alive without breath, As cold as death; Never thirsty, ever drinking, All in mail never clinking. — J.R.R. Tolkien

It's always the same when you don't get enough snaps. If we can get it going, stay on the field, the beauty of the offense is they'll all get involved in it. You've got to have drives, you've got to make first downs. You can't get players involved if you only have three plays and out. That's not real good. — Herman Edwards

Ragtime plinking, glasses clinking, choruses getting sung with only half the lyrics right, giggles bubbling over like a tower of champagne.

It's a party, shaking down the dawn. — Catherynne M Valente

In a well-written book we are presented with the maturest reflections, or the happiest flights of a mind of uncommon excellence. It is impossible that we can be much accustomed to such companions without attaining some resemblance to them. — William Godwin

A small child from a developing country has the advantage, from a very early age, of having access to toys which structure his mind, which constitute a sure advantage over the little African child who has never even held a modern toy. — Abdoulaye Wade

My bones are like cubes of ice clinking together, chilling me to my core. — Tahereh Mafi

What would the days be like now?
It was Mom who bound us all together, it was Mom who was at the center of Yngve's and my life, we knew that, Dad knew that, but perhaps she didn't. How else could she leave us like this?
Knives and forks clinking on plates, elbows moving, heads held stiff, straight backs. No one saying a word. That is us three, a father and two sons, sitting and eating. Around us, on all sides, it is the seventies.
The silence grows. And we notice it, all three of us, the silence is not the kind that can ease, it is the kind that lasts a lifetime. Well, of course, you can say something inside it, you can talk, but the silence doesn't stop for that reason. — Karl Ove Knausgard

Will you tell me how long you have loved him?"
"It has been coming on so gradually, that I hardly know when it began. — Jane Austen

Marriage is like a tense, unfunny version of Everybody Loves Raymond, only it doesn't last 22 minutes. It lasts forever. — Paul Rudd

This is newness: every little tawdry
Obstacle glass-wrapped and peculiar,
Glinting and clinking in a saint's falsetto. Only you
Don't know what to make of the sudden slippiness,
The blind, white, awful, inaccessible slant.
There's no getting up it by the words you know.
No getting up by elephant or wheel or shoe.
We have only come to look. You are too new
To want the world in a glass hat. — Sylvia Plath

Hark to the clinking of the hammers! Hark to the driving of the nails! What fun to build a gallows, the cure for all that ails! — Ransom Riggs

Monks, when ignorance is abandoned, and knowledge arises in the monk, with the ending of ignorance and the arising of knowledge he clings neither to sense-pleasures, nor does he cling to views, nor to precepts and vows, nor to a Self-doctrine. Not clinking, he is not disturbed; not disturbed, he attains individually nibbana. — Gautama Buddha

Wait - no, not drifting. Following us. "We have an audience," I said to Reth, nodding at the clusters of flying insects.
"I suppose we can't make the Dark Queen any angrier with us than she already is," he said, then his perfect mouth moved, silently forming words, and he gracefully waved his hands through the air in a semicircle. The warm breeze suddenly froze, and I saw frost eat across the nearest butterflies' wings. They stopped midair, then dropped to the ground with tiny clinking noises, frozen solid.
A serene smile spread across Reth's face. "I've always disliked insects."
"If the whole being-a-faerie thing doesn't work out for you, you definitely have a future in pest control. — Kiersten White

I'd been a wedding singer through college, but after a few years of doing my best renditions of jazz standards to clinking glasses and the sound of forks on salad, I thought, 'Oh God, if this is all I do, I'll never be able to live with myself.' — Idina Menzel