Quotes & Sayings About Cushions

Ask for a valiant heart which has banished the fear of death, which looks upon the length of days as one of the least of nature's gifts; which is able to suffer every kind of hardship, is proof against anger, craves for nothing, and reckons the trials and gruelling labours of Hercules as more desirable blessings than the amorous ease and the banquets and cushions of Sardanapallus. The things that I recommend you can grant to yourself. — Juvenal

Anyone who said money didn't matter had never had to count the coins that fell between the cushions of the couch. — Nora Roberts

I look forward all day to evening, and then I put an "engaged" on the door and get into my nice red bath robe and furry slippers and pile all the cushions behind me on the couch, and light the brass student lamp at my elbow, and read and read and read. One book isn't enough. I have four going at once. Just now, they're Tennyson's poems and "Vanity Fair" and Kipling's "Plain Tales" and - don't laugh - "Little Women." I find that I am the only girl in college who wasn't brought up on "Little Women." I haven't told anybody though (that would stamp me as queer). I just quietly went and bought it with $1.12 of my last month's allowance; and the next time somebody mentions pickled limes, I'll know what she is talking about! — Jean Webster

Whiskey, glass, pour, toss back, glare. Repeat. "Cop out," I slurred in retaliation, pointing the empty glass at Peter.
"Don't get drunk. Fuck. I need you sober," he yelled, snatching the glass out of my hand.
"There's the problem right there. You need me sober. You need my help. You need something from me." I laughed, tossing the bottle on the sofa, ignoring the glug glug glug as it emptied over my cushions. "And I just need you."
"Need me to what?" He asked with a huff, tipping the bottle right-side up.
"Nothing. I just need you," I whispered and flopped into a nearby recliner. — Dani Alexander

As he yanked the cushions off the sofa, the tube of Vaseline flew onto the floor. Both Carter and Martin stared at it for a moment, then Martin blushed, snatching it up. "I have dry skin. — Marshall Thornton

I love the stillness of a room, after a party. The chairs are moved, the cushions disarranged, everything is there to show that people enjoyed themselves; and one comes back to the empty room happy that it's over, happy to relax and say, 'Now we are alone again. — Daphne Du Maurier

He was a stranger, an alien creature, impossible to reach or understand. And still she wanted to try. "Tell me what you need."
"This," he whispered, watching her lips move against his palm. "Just this." He rose over her, pinning her against the cushions, and stroked her hair with a tenderness that seemed misplaced among the sultry sensations it awakened in her.
"Do your clients pleasure you?" she asked hoarsely, her head tilting and following his fingers as they massaged her neck.
"If that's what they want. You pleasure me, Billie. The sight of you. The sound of your voice. I want to hear it all sorts of ways. Laughing. Whispering. Moaning. Crying out." He caught her mouth in a lush, hungry kiss, and there was nothing sweet or grateful about it this time. Erotic delight arrowed through her with each sleek thrust of his tongue between her lips, a sultry promise of what he would do to her if she let him. — Shelby Reed

How deep and sticky is the darkness of childhood, how rigid the blades of infant evil, which is unadulterated, unrestrained by the convenient cushions of age and its civilizing anesthesia. — Katherine Dunn

It wasn't the lower classes that preached the religion of sexual liberation. That came from the upper classes, with their comfortable cushions against the resulting disorder. What did it matter to them that they were polluting the waters? Their houses were upstream. The biological absurdism of same-sex pseudogamy (mock-marriage) is just the latest effort of the same irresponsible destroyers. Let those who are in favor of the world that the sexual revolution has produced defend it on its "merits," and not decree all discussion out of bounds from the beginning. We are not talking about privacy here, but about the air we all must breathe and the water we all must drink. — Anthony M. Esolen

Cold Mountain is hidden in white clouds It's peaceful to be cut off from the busy world I use dry grass for cushions in my mountain home My only light is the round moon My bed is the rock beside the green pool Tigers and deer are my companions I delight in this happy peaceful life Forever beyond the world of men — Hanshan

I'm about to berate his tactics, to deny any feelings for him, when he cups the nape of my neck and presses his lips to mine, velvety soft. It's nothing but a peck, yet the flavor of the tart he sampled lingers like a warm, savory bruise - an irresistible torment to the netherling within.
He draws back and my skin glistens, radiant prisms reflected off his face and the cushions. I'm gripping his jacket lapels, yet I don't even remember reaching for him.
"No more denials," he says as he presses his left hand over one of mine. "I've seen the love in your eyes and in your actions. I felt it yesterday when I held you in my arms, and today, when you came to save me." — A.G. Howard

As we are a doomed race, chained to a sinking ship, as the whole thing is a bad joke, let us, at any rate, do our part; mitigate the suffering of our fellow-prisoners; decorate the dungeon with flowers and air-cushions; be as decent as we possibly can. — Virginia Woolf

Even the idea of a fart makes me laugh. Saying the word 'fart' makes me laugh. I have iFart on my phone. I have remote whoopee cushions. Farts. To me, there's nothing funnier. — George Clooney

I once compiled a list of events that frightened her, and it was quite comprehensive: very loud snoring; low-flying aircraft; church bells; fire engines; trains; buses and lorries; thunder; shouting; large cars; most medium-sized cars; noisy small cars; burglar alarms; fireworks, especially crackers; loud radios; barking dogs; whinnying horses; nearby silent horses; cows in general; megaphones; sheep; corks coming out of sparkling wine bottles; motorcycles, even very small ones; balloons being popped; vacuum cleaners (not being used by her); things being dropped; dinner gongs; parrot houses; whoopee cushions; chiming doorbells; hammering; bombs; hooters; old-fashioned alarm clocks; pneumatic drills; and hairdryers (even those used by her). — John Cleese

At last, giving me the boat's sail for a bed, he stretched himself out on the jagged rocks, and slept soundly as the unsanctified in a comfortable pew of a church;
I wish the benches were softer, and the cushions higher, as then more people might be tempted to take a nap; it is my only reason for never going. — Edward John Trelawny

Tea would arrive, the cakes squatting on cushions of cream, toast in a melting shawl of butter, cups agleam and a faint wisp of steam rising from the teapot shawl. — Gerald Durrell

You're not going to take advantage of me, are you?" The cushions felt so nice behind her head. It was so nice to lie down. "Novels are always warning young women of the dangers of being taken advantage of by wealthy young men."
"You are perfectly safe. Emily is here to protect your virtue."
"That's too bad. — Kady Cross

Okay, back to business." Billy grins, leaning back against the cushions. "Give me two more characteristics of living things. I'll give you a hint: you left out the most fun one."
Fun one? Im picturing the textbook, responsiveness, growth, complex organizations, metabolism, responsiveness ... Oh!
I hit Billy. "You are such a perv!"
"Who me? What are you talking about?"
"The most fun one? Reproduction?"
"Hey, even microorganisms gotta have fun, right? — Sarah Darer Littman

Familiar mahogany-stained pews with red velvet cushions sucked the light from the interior. — Sally Kilpatrick

The youngest children have a great capacity for empathy and altruism. There's a recent study that shows even 14-month-olds will climb across a bunch of cushions and go across a room to give you a pen if you drop one. — Alison Gopnik

Amory wondered how people could fail to notice that he was a boy marked for glory, and when faces of the throng turned toward him and ambiguous eyes stared into his, he assumed the most romantic of expressions and walked on the air cushions that lie on the asphalts of fourteen ... — F Scott Fitzgerald

Gavin dreamed of nothing more than spending the rest of his life safe and comfortable, and within touching distance of the two people he loved most. All it would take to achieve that goal was a miracle. Maybe he could find one if he dug deep enough under the couch cushions. Everything else he needed ended up there. — Amanda Young

The foam cushions
on the old couch downstairs
disintegrate
daily
in a hush,
like each of us,
small flecks of
hardening puffs
raining mute to the floor
when I flop down to study.
And the more the couch gets used,
the less foam it keeps
someday
just an uncomfortable frame,
springs and other inner workings
exposed.
Silent. — Thalia Chaltas

The child, screaming for refuge, senses how feeble a shelter the twig hut of grown-up awareness is. They claim strength, these parents, and complete sanctuary. The weeping earth itself knows how desperate is the child's need for exactly that sanctuary. How deep and sticky is the darkness of childhood, how rigid the blades of infant evil, which is unadulterated, unrestrained by the convenient cushions of age and its civilizing anesthesia.
Grownups can deal with scraped knees, dropped ice-cream cones, and lost dollies, but if they suspected the real reasons we cry they would fling us out of their arms in horrified revulsion. Yet we are small and as terrified as we are terrifying in our ferocious appetites. — Katherine Dunn

I have the loose-ended feeling of looking, looking. What am I looking for? Looking for substance, looking for a moment I do not understand. Is that just how this part of life is? Do we ever have the sensation of finding, of arriving? I worry that life is always in the future and I am always here, in the preamble, straightening up the cushions so that life will go smoothly once it does begin. — Priya Parmar

I cast a look at where Rhys still remained sprawled on the cushions, watching us with raised brows. "For someone who was just dead," I said tightly, "you seem remarkably relaxed."

Rhys smirked. "I'm glad you're bouncing back to your usual spirits, Feyre darling."

Drakon snorted, and took my hands, squeezing them as tightly as his mate had. "What he doesn't want to tell you, my lady, is that he's so damn old he can't stand up right now."

I whirled to Rhys. "Are you - "

"Fine, fine," Rhys said, waving a hand, even as he groaned a bit. "Though perhaps now you see why I didn't bother visiting these two for so long. They're terribly cruel to me. — Sarah J. Maas

Still on my knees, I droop against Morpheus's thighs - a solid support. The cool leather of his pants cushions my cheek. I close my eyes. Yes ... I've been here before, held safely against him.
At first, I think I'm imagining it when he bends over to scoop me into his arms. But when the scent of licorice and warm skin surrounds me, I know it's real.
"You left," I accuse him, fighting to stay awake. "I was hurt ... and you left me."
"A mistake I vow on my life-magic to never make again." Even though he's cradling me close, his response sounds far away. But distance doesn't matter; he gave his word. I'll be holding him to it. — A.G. Howard

This raises the interesting, if seemingly outlandish, question of why car drivers, virtually alone among users of wheeled transport, do not wear helmets. Yes, cars do provide a nice metal cocoon with inflatable cushions. But in Australia, for example, head injuries among car occupants, according to research by the Federal Office of Road Safety, make up half the country's traffic-injury costs. Helmets, cheaper and more reliable than side-impact air bags, would reduce injuries and cut fatalities by some 25 percent.95 A crazy idea, perhaps, but so were air bags once. — Tom Vanderbilt

What does that look like to you?" he said. "A forgery." He shrugged, snorted quietly. "That's right, Heller. We have teams of forgers at work creating phony documents just for you." His sarcasm was subtle. "Now do you see? Starting to recognize your brother's modus operandi? Steal a bunch of money, then, when you realize that you've messed with the wrong guys, do the cowardly thing and run? Wonder where he got that from." "Screw you." I no longer felt bad about making up that story about his cigars. "Oh, believe me, it's the truth. Maybe to Victor Heller's sons that's nothing more than loose change you find under your sofa cushions. But not to me. And certainly not to Allen Granger. — Joseph Finder

After Carol had left, as Symons threw away a pile of used tissues and rearranged the cushions on the couch, he remarked that the most common and unhelpful illusion plaguing those who came to see him [as a career counselor] was the idea that they ought somehow, in the normal course of events, to have intuited
long before they had finished their degrees, started families, bought houses and risen to the top of law firms
what they should properly be doing with their lives. They were tormented by a residual notion of having through some error or stupidity on their part missed out on their true 'calling. — Alain De Botton

Sadly, American teenagers are to a weightless vacuum as seat cushions are to polyurethane foam - — Marisha Pessl

It is easier to understand if you think of it in terms of music. Sometimes a man enjoys a symphony. Elsetimes he finds a jig more suited to his taste.
The same holds true for lovemaking. One type is suited to the deep cushions of a twilight forest glade. Another comes quite naturally tangled in the sheets of narrow beds upstairs in inns. Each woman is like an instrument, waiting to be learned, loved, and finely played, to have at last her own true music made.
Some might take offense at this way of seeing things, not understanding how a trouper views his music. They might think I degrade women. They might consider me callous, or boorish, or crude.
But those people do not understand love, or music, or me. — Patrick Rothfuss

Was it ever ... " She winced, wished she could muffle the need to ask. "Before, with anyone else - "
"No." He touched his lips to her brow, her nose, the dip in her chin. "It was never, with no one else."
Not for me, either." She simply breathed him in. "Put your hands on me. I want your hands on me."
"I can do that." He did, tumbling with her to a spread of floor cushions while the sun died brilliantly in the ocean. — J.D. Robb

He watched with an attentiveness both polite and flattering as Maura scraped her cards up from the sofa cushions. He leaned to pick up one she had missed.
"This fellow looks unhappy," he observed. The art depicted a man stuck with ten swords. The victim lay on his face, as most people did after being stuck with ten swords.
"That's a fellow after Calla's done with him," Maura said. — Maggie Stiefvater

Martin heaved a heavy sigh, settling deeper into the cushions of the couch. "Like I said, everyone is the main character in their own story. Even villains."
I shook my head. "I don't know ... Not necessarily. I mean, sometimes the story is bigger than the characters, like Jurassic Park. The Park was really the central focus of the story, and all the characters were secondary to the Park. Their only purpose was to react to the Park."
Martin yawned, set his now empty beer on the coffee table, and closed his eyes. "That's because dinosaurs are awesome. We're all sidekicks to dinosaurs."
"Or dinner. — Penny Reid

Georg." Deda spoke softly. "Georg." "Yes, Papochka?" Tatiana's father said respectfully. No one loved Deda more than Papa, not even Tatiana. "Georg. You cannot keep the boy out of conscription. You can't." "Of course I can. He is only seventeen." Deda shook his neat gray head. "Exactly - seventeen. They'll take him." The look of trapped fear slid across Papa's face and was gone. "They won't take him, Papochka," said Papa hoarsely. "I don't even know what you're talking about." He was clearly unable to say what he felt: everyone stop talking and let me save my son the only way I know how. Deda sat back against the sofa cushions. — Paullina Simons

You sound disappointed." Shane's voice came out faint and thready, and he put his head back against the cushions as he squeezed his eyes shut. "Damn, I hate this. I really do."
I know," Oliver said. "Your blood reeks of it. — Rachel Caine

I came to your suite in the middle of the night to bring you a glass of water when you were too lazy to walk to the bathroom. I cleaned your girlfriend's vomit off the sofa cushions." Solara's voice raised a pitch. "For God's sake, I even fetched her panties when you two left them in the elevator! I wanted to amputate my own hand after that! — Melissa Landers

Have you seen a person recently so delicious-looking that, were you and this person to be scrambling for ice-cream change with your arms in the sofa and your faces laid on the cushions looking at each other as you felt for coins and the ice-cream truck dinged on by and your hands in there felt only the lint of the sofa scrofula and your faces were fairly close across a distance of that knobby nylon terrain, you might feel compelled to slide you face toward this delicious-looking person's and kiss him or her - have you seen anyone like this recently? — Padgett Powell

He started to apologize for the fact that there were no chairs in his son's room
only floor cushions
but I quickly gave him to believe that for me this was little short of a godsend. (In fact, I think I said I hated chairs. I was so nervous that if he had informed me that his son's room was flooded, night and day, with a foot of water, I probably would have let out a little cry of pleasure. I probably would have said I had a rare foot disease, one that required my keeping my feet wet eight hours daily.) — J.D. Salinger

The throne was empty, and above it hung only the ancient flag of Remalna, tattered in places from age. Galdran's banners were, of course, gone. No one was on the dais. Just below it, side by side in fine chairs, sat the Prince and Princess.
At their feet Shevraeth knelt formally on white cushions before a long carved table. He now wore white and silver with blue gemstones on his tunic and in his braided hair. He looks like a king, I thought, though he was nowhere near the throne. — Sherwood Smith

Vida Winter's appearance was not calculated for concealment. She was an ancient queen, sorceress or goddess. Her stiff figure rose regally out of a profusion of fat purple and red cushions. Draped around her shoulders, the folds of the turquoise-and-green cloth that had cloaked her body did not soften the rigidity of her frame. Her bright copper hair had been arranged into an elaborate confection of twists, curls and coils. Her face, as intricately lined as a map, was powdered white and finished with bold scarlet lipstick. In her lap, her hands were a cluster of rubies, emeralds and white, bony knuckles; only her nails, unvarnished, cut short and square like my own, struck an incongruous tone. — Diane Setterfield

In some churches today and on some religious television programs, we see the attempt to make Christianity popular and pleasant. We have taken the cross away and substituted cushions. — Billy Graham

The picnic table in the photo was an old door set up on sawhorses, and the seats were old tree stumps, or maybe thick pieces of firewood, topped with square cushions. Six men were sitting there, not looking at the camera, but at the beautiful woman with long, dark hair, almost to her waist, standing at the head of the table. She was smiling, her arms outstretched, as if welcoming everyone to her world. The apple tree in the background, just barely visible, was stretching a single limb out to her, as if wanting to be in the photo with her.
Even it looked a little in love with her. — Sarah Addison Allen

It might have felt easier if she'd been able to say that she moved across the room to him in a trance, as if he were a vampire exerting some kind of mind control. That would have been a cop-out, though. Not to mention a lie. She was exquisitely aware of every movement she made as she uncurled her legs, rose from her chair and walked slowly and carefully around the end of the coffee table towards him. She felt the wide hem of her yoga pants sway around her ankles, felt the nap of the blue-and-green area rug and then the cool smoothness of the wooden floorboards beneath her feet. She felt the way the thick sofa cushions gave beneath her as she sat beside him and the pull of gravity when his heavier weight made a deeper depression that her body rolled naturally into ... And then she felt everything. — Christine Warren

Ove cushions all your irritations, unnatural instincts, hatreds and immaturities. — Ray Bradbury

And you will spend the rest of your life wondering if I have disciples to avenge me. Hire your tasters, Burbesh. Until the Master of the Sleeps comes for you, you'll never know a taste of anything that has not touched another's lips first. You'll never sleep in a bed that has not been first tossed for vipers. You'll never sit in a chair that has not been tested for poisoned barbs in its cushions. You shall never see a bath drawn for you that you will not at first fear is acid. And you'll never have another dream where my face is not grinning at you from the shadows." -- From "Morality for Alchemists and Thieves — L. Joseph Shosty

You could say that Elphaba brought us together,' said Boq softly. 'I'm closer to her and so I'm closer to you.'
Galinda seemed to give up. She leaned her head back on the velvet cushions of the swing and said, 'Boq, you know despite myself I think you're a little sweet. You're a little sweet and you're a little charming and you're a little maddening and you're a little habit-forming.'
Boq held his breath.
But you're little!' she concluded. 'You're a Munchkin, for god's sake!'
He kissed her, he kissed her, he kissed her, little by little by little. — Gregory Maguire

Always at the end they sit side by side again and pound the cushions, and slowly the room rematerializes around them. "Ah," he says, more quietly, his accent fading, the faintest touch of dread returning to his voice, "here we are. Home. — Anthony Doerr

We old folks have to find our cushions and pillows in our tankards. Strong beer is the milk of the old. — Martin Luther

He showed his daughter how to use cushions to vary his position and relieve the monotony of pressure that corrupts the flesh, but he made her leave the room for all those tasks which would normally fall to the lot of a woman, and which show the greatest love. — Louis De Bernieres

A cross with yellow roses. What a fucking thing. It was like an electric chair with floral-print cushions, a bad joke. — Anonymous

She hated walls. For her, they had always been the jaws of a trap.
Ferro frowned at the bed. She hated beds, and couches, and cushions. Soft things make you soft, and she did not need them. — Joe Abercrombie

Agreeing completely, Zarya came to an abrupt halt as she saw the small side table that had been pulled out for them. "Small" being the operative word. It must have been an end table in the conference room. The chairs were tiny foldaways with stained gray cushions. And while the linens were clean, they, too, were stained in places. It was the ultimate slap in the face. But for Darling, she'd be throwing a tantrum over it. Instead, she smiled at the woman and graciously sat down while Maris followed suit. Never let them know how much they've hurt you. Don't give them the satisfaction. Her father had raised her on those principles and she held them tight. Starskas didn't flinch or bitch. They got even. Lady — Sherrilyn Kenyon

All took leave from life in the manner which most suited them. Some praying, some deliberately drunk, others lustfully intoxicated for the last time. But the mothers stayed up to prepare the food for the journey with tender care, and washed their children and packed their luggage; and at dawn the barbed wire was full of children's washing hung out in the wind to dry. Nor did they forget the diapers, the toys, the cushions and the hundreds other small things which mothers remember and which children always need. Would you not do the same? If you and your child were going to die tomorrow, would you not give him to eat today? — Primo Levi

He opened the rear door and I got in and sank down into the cushions and George slid under the wheel and started the big car. It moved away from the curb and around the corner with as much noise as a bill makes in a wallet. — Raymond Chandler

What Karen wants to do - needs to do - is cry, but she can't. Here, alone, when she could howl, beat the sofa cushions, scream; now, somehow, she is unable. It's for fear that if she gives in to it, she'll lose all sense of who she is. She is afraid that if she falls apart in private, then she'll fall apart completely. That if she crumbles, like a house in an earthquake, she will disappear down some deep, dark crevasse, and never be able to pull herself out and put herself back together again. — Sarah Rayner

Do I look like the kind of person who wastes time turning goats into pin cushions? — L.J.Smith

Fifteen minutes, a myriad of cups, kleenexes and freshly-vacuumed floor mats and seat cushions later, Kay had the interior of the limousine looking ship-shape. Inching backward out of the car on her knees, she caught a glimpse of one last bit of trash she'd missed hiding under the driver's seat. Lowering her chest to the floor, she stretched her arm under the seat as far as it would go. She grabbed the item and pulled it out and raised herself up from her crouched position. She took one look at the used condom swinging from her fingers, screamed and flung it across the top of the front seat, where it stuck to the air conditioner vents on the dash. She knelt there staring at the thin latex mess, a million scenarios racing through her mind. — Delora Dennis

I will let my body flow like water over the gentle cushions. — Sappho

Cushions had been sliced apart and were bleeding stuffing onto the floor. — Kimberly Derting

You know how it's crazy embarrassing to watch a movie with your parents when a steamy love scene comes on? You basically wish the couch cushions would swallow you and suddenly the condition of your nail beds is far more interesting than what's on the screen? — Jen Malone

In a dog's life, some plaster would fall, some cushions would open, some rugs would shred. Like any relationship, this one had its costs. They were costs we came to accept and balance against the joy and amusement and protection and companionship he gave us. — John Grogan

Shock is the stepsister of denial. It cushions the blow to your psyche when really fucked up things happen. — Lisa Unger

He dropped back into the couch cushions, stroking the condensation dripping off his glass. "You're in a pickle."
"You want one?" Her eyebrows perked up, though her eyes weren't tracking well. "I think I have a jar in the fridge. — Kristin Miller

Emperor, right." she retacked the curtain "That's weird to say, after eighteen years of listening to celebrity gossip feeds go on and on about 'Earth's favorite prince'". She claimed one of the lumpy sofa cushions, curling her legs beneath her. "I had a picture of him taped to my wall when I was fifteen. Grand-mere cut it off a cereal box."
Wolf scowled.
"Of course, half the girls in the world probably had that same picture from that same cereal box."
Wolf scrunched his shoulders against his neck, and Scarlet grinned, teasing. "Oh, no. You're not going to have to fight him for pack dominance now are you? Come here."
She beckoned him with a wave of her hand and he was at her side in half a second, the glower softening as he pulled her against his chest. — Marissa Meyer

Celia laughs and a curl of her hair falls across her cheek. Marco tentatively moves to brush it off her face, but before his fingers reach her, she pushes herself off the ledge, her silver gown a billowing cloud as she falls onto the pile of jewel-toned cushions. — Erin Morgenstern

Along the Oregon coast an arm of the Pacific shushes softly against rocky shores. Above the waves, dripping silver in the moonlight, old trees, giant trees, few now, thrust their heads among low clouds, the moss thick upon their boles and shadow deep around their roots. In these woods nights are quiet, save for the questing hoot of an owl, the satin stroke of fur against a twig, the tick and rasp of small claws climbing up, clambering down. In these woods, bear is the big boy, the top of the chain, but even he goes quietly and mostly by day. It is a place of mosses and liverworts and ferns, of filmy green that curtains the branches and cushions the soil, a wet place, a still place. — Sheri S. Tepper

The friendly, welcoming smiles she had grown to love still made her breath catch, but he'd added a new weapon to his arsenal. A secret, intimate smile that reminded her of warm kisses and strong arms. It never failed to flush her cheeks and flutter her stomach. The man was an invalid in a dressing gown convalescing amid a mound of cushions on the parlor settee; yet when he smiled at her like that, he became masculinity personified. Gideon had a dash of the rogue in him. And Adelaide adored him for it. — Karen Witemeyer

The bigger the cushion, the better the pushin'. — Frank Zappa

This was their favorite place to meet. It always felt hidden, forgotten. The gold-lettered World Book encyclopedias from the 1980s. The smell of old glue and crumbling paper, the industrial carpet burning her palms.
It reminded her of what you did when you were a little girl, making little burrows and hideaways. Like boys did with forts. Eli and his friend, stacking sofa cushions, pretending to be sharpshooters. With girls, you didn't call them forts, though it was the same. — Megan Abbott

There's nothing more I love than McDonald's dollar menu. With just the change I find between my couch cushions, I can eat something with the nutritional value of a couch cushion. — Stephen Colbert

She tore through the wrapping and took out a blue velvet box. She glanced back at me as though unable to believe her eyes. After pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, she lifted the lid. Two rolls of cushioned velvet sat inside. The slit that those cushions made should have held a ring, but it didn't.
Sucked to be her.
She gaped at me. "What is this?" she asked, appalled.
"It's a simple yes/no question," I said, trying to keep a straight face. I lay back, crossing my arms behind my head. "When I get an answer, you get the rest of your gift. — Darynda Jones

On the hob was a little brass kettle, hissing and boiling; spread upon the floor was a warm, thick rug; before the fire was a folding-chair, unfolded and with cushions on it; by the chair was a small folding-table, unfolded, covered with a white cloth, and upon it were spread small covered dishes, a cup and saucer, and a tea-pot; on the bed were new, warm coverings, a curious wadded silk robe, and some books. The little, cold, miserable room seemed changed into Fairyland. It was actually warm and glowing. — Frances Hodgson Burnett

He sagged to his knees. He ached all over. It wasn't just that his brain was writing cheques that his body couldn't cash. It had gone beyond that. Now his feet were borrowing money that his legs hadn't got, and his back muscles were looking for loose change under the sofa cushions. — Terry Pratchett

One sits uncomfortably on a too comfortable cushion. — Lillian Hellman

It will no doubt be agreed that there are multitudes of these defiant, aggressive types in our culture. But they do not frequent psychoanalysts' offices because our competitive culture (in which, to a considerable extent, the individual who can aggressively exploit others without conscious guilt feeling is 'succesful') supports and 'cushions' them to a greater extent than the opposite types. It is generally the culturally 'weak' individuals who get to the psychoanalyst; for in cultural terms they have the 'neurosis' and the succesfully agressive person does not. — Rollo May

Upon patterned cushions that might have been honked, zig by zag, out of Ornette Coleman's horn, the odalisque exposed her flesh to a society that had grown frightened again of flesh. — Tom Robbins

The next night I sat at the table at dinnertime, too, and ate soup and bread with preserves. Before she blew out the candles, Drenka spread a sheet across the sofa and called me over. I felt my spine lengthen like it hadn't during the weeks of sleeping contracted on the kitchen floor, and I stretched my arms over my head and pushed myself deep into the cushions of the couch. — Sara Novic

They arrived home again to a most peculiar sight. The small garden at the front of the Banana House had been transformed. A tidal wave of cushions, beanbags, quilts, hearth rugs, and sleeping bags appeared to have swept up the lawn and broken at the wall. From Indigo's window a multicolored rope of knotted bedsheets came snaking out and ended among the cushions. As Micheal and Caddy watched, a mattress emerged and fell to the ground, followed by a rain of pillows.
"Indigo!" shouted Caddy, jumping out of the car.
Indigo's and Rose's heads appeared in the window above.
"It's all right, Caddy!" Indigo called cheerfully. "We've been doing it all the time you've been gone."
"We keep finding more stuff to land on!" added Rose. "Look! — Hilary McKay

When I am in the city I have the impression that I am in a living room with crystal chandeliers, rugs of velvet, and satin cushions. And when I'm in the favela I have the impression that I'm a useless object, destined to be forever in a garbage dump. — Carolina Maria De Jesus

Statements made by distant church bells remind me it is Sunday. Today the sky has become cloudy. I have been watching the clouds and it occurs to me that I have never done this in my life before, simply sit and watch clouds. As a child I would have been far too anxious to 'waste time' in this way. And my mother would have stopped me. As I write this I am sitting on my plot of grass behind the house where I have put a chair, cushions, rugs. It is evening. Thick lumpy slate-blue clouds, their bulges lit up to a lighter blue, move slowly across a sky of muddy and yet brilliant gold, a sort of dulled gilt effect. At the horizon there is a light glittering slightly jagged silver line, like modern jewellery. Beneath it the sea is a live choppy lyrical goldeny-brown, jumping with white flecks. The air is warm. Another happy day. ('Whatever will you do down there?' they asked.)
In a quiet surreptitious way I am feeling very pleased with myself. — Iris Murdoch

Give me priests who are fat and corrupt and cynical,( ... ) the sort who like to sit on soft satin cushions, nibble sweetmeats, and diddle little boys. It's the ones who believe in gods who make the trouble. (Tyrion) — George R R Martin

I was broke for more than 10 years. I remember staying up all night one night at my first company and looking in couch cushions the next morning for some change to buy coffee. — Evan Williams

I'm beginning to believe that the depths to which a woman could fall for Cain are endless. To a deep, dark, infinite pit with no ladders to get away, no cushions to soften the impact. No safety net. No escape. — K.A. Tucker

And only those watching very carefully saw the Caliph of Khorasan lean back against the cushions and toy with the bangles on his wife's arm. — Renee Ahdieh

Other people think destiny is a time in one's life, such as the moment one becomes an adult, or the instant it becomes necessary to construct a hiding place out of sofa cushions. And still other people think that destiny is an invisible force, like gravity, or a fear of paper cuts, that guide everyone throughout their lives, whether they are embarking on a mysterious errand, doing a treacherous deed, or deciding that a book they have begun reading is too dreadful to finish, — Lemony Snicket

Sin and forgiveness and falling and getting back up and losing the pearl of great price in the couch cushions but then finding it again, and again, and again? Those are the stumbling steps to becoming Real, the only script that's really worth following in this world or the one that's coming. — Brennan Manning

Helene, why did you even choose this field of study? Philosophy? The thing is, you double majored in psychology and philosophy in your undergraduate studies, but then you chose to pursue your doctorate in philosophy rather than psychology. There's a reason for that."
"Because, I like ... " I scratched my head as I let myself drop back into the sofa cushions, and then I sighed. "I like that nothing is black and white. I like that I can let my mind go and explore even the most basic of concepts as though my thoughts and feelings are as important as ... as ... Schopenhauer and Hume. I don't have to accept that there's a right and wrong answer. I can believe and feel that there are so many more shades of truth. — Elizabeth Finn

If airline seat cushions are such great flotation devices, why don't you ever see anyone take one to the beach? — Jerry Seinfeld

In Jalalabad it was half past four in the afternoon. Tea was being served in the white mud house. The new messenger had been brought to the small hot room. She was a woman. Twenty-four years old, long black hair, skin the color of tea. She was wearing a white explorer shirt, full of loops and pockets, and khaki pants, and desert boots. She was standing at attention in front of the two men, who were sitting on their cushions. The — Lee Child

You know how much Annie loved pearls. She owned some incomparable specimens ... the most marvelous, I believe, that ever existed. You also remember the almost physical joy, the carnal ecstasy, with which she adorned herself with them. Well, when she was sick that passion became a mania with her ... a fury, like love! All day long she loved to touch them, caress them and kiss them; she made cushions of them, necklaces, capes, cloaks. Then this extraordinary thing happened; the pearls died on her skin: first they tarnished, little by little ... little by little they grew dim, and no light was reflected in their luster any more and, in a few days, tainted by the disease, they changed into tiny balls of ash. They were dead, dead like people, my darling. Did you know that pearls had souls? I think it's fascinating and delicious. And since then, I think of it every day. — Octave Mirbeau

... Marco's answers and objections took their place in a discourse already proceeding on its own, in the Great Khan's head. That is to say, between the two of them it did not matter whether questions and solutions were uttered aloud or whether each of the two went on pondering in silence. In fact, they were silent, their eyes half-closed, reclining on cushions, swaying in hammocks, smoking long amber pipes.
Marco Polo imagined answering (or Kublai Khan imagined his answer) that the more one was lost in unfamiliar quarters of distant cities, the more one understood the other cities he had crossed to arrive there ... — Italo Calvino

Barrons." I hastily shoved the phone between the cushions.
Ms. Lane." He inclined his dark head.
You tattooed me, you bastard." I got right to the point. — Karen Marie Moning

She laid a row of cushions down the center of the bed, carefully dividing it into two sides ...
I dinna know how this strategy escaped Napoleon's notice. If only he'd erect a barricade of feathers and fabric, we Highlanders wouldna have known how to get over it. — Tessa Dare

After years, she had relegated all thoughts of him to the closet; in time, she'd forgotten. Now she remembered. It scared her to feel this way. He had hurt her so many times. "Papa." He went to the loveseat and sat down. The cushions sagged tiredly beneath his meager weight. "I was a terrible father to you girls." It was so surprising - and true - that Vianne had no idea what to say. He sighed. "It's too late now to fix all that." She joined him at the loveseat, sat down beside him. "It's never too late," she said cautiously. Was it true? Could she forgive him? Yes. The answer came instantly, as unexpected as his appearance here. He turned to her. "I have so much to say and no time to say it. — Kristin Hannah

Can't find your passion? Don't check between the couch cushions. It's already in you! — Darren Hardy

He smiled to himself. Through many centuries and many incarnations, he had learned one universal truth: bitches love them some cushions. — Christopher Moore

Anoia, Goddess of Things That Get Stuck in Drawers," said the woman. "Pleased to meet you." She took another puff at the flaming cigarette, and there were more sparks. Some of them dropped on the floor but didn't seem to do any damage. "There's a goddess just for that?" said Tiffany. "Well, I find lost corkscrews and things that roll under furniture," said Anoia offhandedly. "Sometimes things that get lost under sofa cushions, too. They want me to do stuck zippers, and I'm thinking about that. But mostly I manifest whensoever people rattle stuck drawers and call upon the gods." She puffed on her cigarette. "Got any tea? — Terry Pratchett

Your prayer must be for a healthy mind in a sound body. Ask for a brave soul that has no fear of death, deems length of life the least of nature's gifts and is able to bear any kind of sufferings, knows neither wrath nor desire and believes the woes and hard labors of Hercules better than the loves and feasts and downy cushions of Sardanapalus. Reveal what you are able to give yourself; the only path to a life of tranquility lies through virtue. — Juvenal