Dirty Head Quotes & Sayings

She was my wife. My most valuable possession; I treasured her. But I loved her slutty and dirty, too. A sexual object for my pleasure. The one woman who could silence the memories in my head and set me free. — Sylvia Day

It took a little more coaching and a lot more dirty talk and nipple pinching to get Ruxs as stretched and as ready as he needed him to be. Ruxs was fucking himself on his three fingers when he reached his hand back and gripped Green's wrist, forcing him to pump into him deeper, faster. "Harder. More," Ruxs snapped. "You think I can't fuckin' take you." "I'm gonna give you more," Green said, his teeth clenched with determination. He positioned himself at Ruxs' entrance and pushed the head of his cock in on one thrust, making Ruxs' yell out in surprise. "Shit, Chris!" "Ready. — A.E. Via

A mighty mass of brick, and smoke, and shipping, Dirty and dusty, but as wide as eye Could reach, with here and there a sail just skipping In sight, then lost amidst the forestry Of masts; a wilderness of steeples peeping On tiptoe through their sea-coal canopy; A huge, dun cupola, like a fools-cap crown On a fool's head - and there is London Town. — Lord Byron

What care is it of yours," Gansey asked, "what I think of Orla?"
Blue held his gaze, unflinching. Crisp, she replied, "None at all."
And it was a lie.
It should not have been, but it was, and Gansey, who prized honesty above nearly every other thing, knew it when he heard it. Blue Sargent cared whether or not he was interested in Orla. She cared a lot. As she whirled toward the truck with a dismissive shake of her head, he felt a dirty sort of thrill. — Maggie Stiefvater

She was quite a doll. She wore a white belted raincoat, no hat, a well-cherished head of platinum hair, booties to match the raincoat, a folding plastic umbrella, a pair of blue-gray eyes that looked at me as if I had said a dirty word. I helped her off with her raincoat. She smelled very nice. She had a pair of legs - so far as I could determine - that were not painful to look at. She wore night sheer stockings. I stared at them rather intently, especially when she crossed her legs and held out a cigarette to be lighted — Raymond Chandler

The sun beasts the shit out of a dirty road called Raton Pass where the closest thing to a pair of matching earring is a guy named Carl who punches you in the head with his fist. — Amelia Gray

Later, I was in a bathroom stall. Eric was on his knees. My dick was in his mouth, my head back against warm ceramic tile that shook with the beat of the music. My fingers were in his hair and everything was hot and wet. I grunted a warning and he backed away, jacking me until I came on the dirty floor. He stood up and kissed me while he jerked himself off. He sighed into my mouth. He tasted like stale beer and mint. He came on his hand. I felt raw. "Thanks," he said, zipping up his pants. "That was great." "Sure," I said, because I was unsure of what else to say. "You too." And then he left. I — T.J. Klune

To pursue truth with such astonishing lack of consideration for other people's feelings, to rend the think veils of civilisation so wantonly, so brutally, was to her so horrible an outrage of human decency that, without replying, dazed and blinded, she bend her head as if to let her pelt f jagged hail, the drench of dirty water, bespatter her unrebuked. — Virginia Woolf

You speak Italian?" I ask.
"Some," he says, leaning down like he's going to kiss me, but instead he runs his nose along my jawline. "Why? You want me to talk dirty to you?"
"I, uh..." He's got me flustered as he grabs my hip, pulling me even closer. I shiver, feeling his warm breath on my skin. It's like he's breathing me in. "Well, I didn't, but I kind of do now."
He laughs. "Let's go upstairs, and I'll teach you all the dirty words you want."
I hum, tilting my head as his lips trace along my cheek. "All of them?"
His breath is against my ear as he whispers, "Every single one. — J.M. Darhower

So one day he found her crying Coiled up on the dirty ground Her prince finally came to save her & the rest you can figure out But it was a trick & the clock struck twelve Well make sure to build your home brick by boring brick or the wolf's gonna blow it down Keep your feet on the ground When your head's in the clouds — Hayley Williams

Doing interviews can sometimes mess up my head. It makes me feel dirty. It's frustrating how the press recycles a quote to death. — Juliana Hatfield

I do what the voices in my underwear tell me to do."
Wait, what?
"You mean the voices in your head?"
Alec smirked. "Yeah, the voices in my head."
I furrowed my eyebrows together and stared at him.
Why was he smirking at me?
He was confusing me.
Wait.
Voices in his underwear.
In his head.
The head in his underwear.
I gasped. "You dirty bastard! — L.A. Casey

Do you want to come free-running with us?" She pulled a slim book off a shelf and shook her head. "I'm off to the bath." Ringo held his hand out, and she squeezed it quickly before she left the room. He looked baffled when he turned to us. "It's 'er third bath since we got 'ere. She wasn't dirty to begin with." I grinned at him. "It's a chick thing." "No chicken I ever saw liked a bath." Archer — April White

Don't worry, Eve, whatever we end up doing, I'm not leaving you. Not until I teach you how to fire a gun, anyway." Jake snorted loudly. Avery lifted his head and gave him a dirty look. "Do you think that's funny? Eve needs to know how to protect herself." His smile twisted. "A woman with a gun is a bad idea, boy. You'd be putting all our lives at risk." "Only your life," I muttered under my breath. From the way his lips twitched further, I knew he had heard me. — Karina Halle

Get off me you dirty turnip!" "Dirty turnip? well, pardon me Signor Cabbage-Head! — Elle Newmark

We slink through the dirty hallway and come face to face with another guard.
I don't have a moment to take the sight. Charlie doesn't hesitate. No more than a breath passes before she raises the nine and shoots him in the head.
I'm in love. It's official. I'm going to blow my fucking load right here.
This woman is going to be mine. — Corinne Michaels

Can o'Beans was to remark that a comparison between the American Cowpoke and, say, the Japanese samurai, left the cowboy looking rather shoddy. 'Before a samurai went into battle,' Can o' Beans was to say, 'he would burn incense in his helmet so that if his enemy took his head, he would find it pleasant to his nose. Cowboys, on the other hand, hardly ever bathed or changed their crusty clothing. If a samurai's enemy lost his sword, the samurai gave him his extra one so that the fight might continue in a manner honorable and fair. The cowboy's specialty was to shoot enemies in the back from behind a bush. Do you begin to see the difference?' Spoon and Dirty Sock would wonder how Can o' Beans knew so much about samurai. 'Oh, I sat on the shelf next to a box of imported rice crackers for over a month,' Can o' Beans would explain. 'One can learn a lot conversing with foreigners. — Tom Robbins

Well I work up Sunday morning,
With no way to hold my head that didn't hurt,
And the beer I had for breakfast wasn't bad,
So I had one more for dessert.
Then I fumbled through my closet for my clothes,
And found my cleanest dirty shirt.
An' I shaved my face and combed my hair,
An' stumbled down the stairs to meet the day. — Kris Kristofferson

Jaenelle tried to smile. "They won't find their way through the maze. Not this maze, anyway." Then she looked sadly at Daemon's gaunt, bruised body and gently brushed the long, dirty, tangled black hair off his forehead. "Ah, Daemon. I had gotten used to thinking of my body as a weapon that was used against me. I'd forgotten that it's also a gift. If it's not too late, I'll do better. I promise." Jaenelle placed her transparent hands on either side of Daemon's head. She closed her eyes. The Black Jewel glowed. Listening to the Hayllian guards thrashing around somewhere in the maze, Surreal sank to the ground and settled down to wait. *Daemon.* The island slowly sank into the sea of blood. He curled up in the center of the pulpy ground while the word sharks circled, waiting for him. *Daemon. — Anne Bishop

I came to Savannah to see where it all began ... where I began. But right now, I swear to God I flew to the other side of the pond just to see Theo in a dirty white T-shirt and faded blue jeans with holes in the knees, a red bandana wrapped around his head, and the most vulnerable look in his blue eyes. — Jewel E. Ann

This is not what I had in mind," she muttered to Bill,who was hovering,always,on the rim of the cupboard next to her washtub. She still wasn't used to being the only one in the kitchen who could see him. It made her nervous every time he hovered over other members of the staff,making dirty jokes that only Luce could hear and no one-besides Bill-ever laughed at.
"You children of the millenium have absolutely no work ethic," he said. "Keep your voice down,by the way."
Luce unclenched her jaw. "If scrubbing this disgusting soup tureen had anything to do with understanding my past, my work ethic would make your head spin. But this is pointless." She waved a cast iron skillet in Bill's face.Its handle was slick with pork grease. "Not to mention nauseating. — Lauren Kate

I'm going to change clothes." Ethan lay down on the bed, one arm behind his head, ankles crossed. "All right," he said. "I'm ready." "Dirty. Old. Man. — Chloe Neill

If you think it's bad now, my friend, wait till we reach a town!' He shook his head and brushed at his tattered, dirty shirtsleeve. 'Do try to remember we're visitors-and not welcome ones-if you should feel moved to reason with anyone. — David Weber

I daydream - and get paid for it. I recall a scene from An Officer and a Gentleman. At the end of the movie Richard Gere, dressed in his naval whites, goes into a factory, picks up Debra Winger, and carries her out of that depressing place with all of those dirty machines.
I wish that would happen to me. Of course the whole time I'd be worried that the guy was trying to guess my weight or something. I realize how truly pathetic I am. Some guy in a uniform drags his woman out of the workplace to stick her in a house to cook and possibly even clip coupons, and I am staring to buy into it, into the anti-female propaganda disguised as romance. As soon as he picks her up, things have to head south from there, because at some point, he has to put her down. — Jill A. Davis

Phrases and images from the game filtered through his head... hitting the sweet spot, working the rosin bag, over the bat, going deep, in the hole, double header, baseball was a filthy, dirty sport! — J.D. Ruskin

This is just how I pictured it in my head. Raw and gritty, and dirty as hell. — Belle Aurora

And again it snowed, and again the sun came out. In the mornings on the way to the station Franklin counted the new snowmen that had sprung up mysteriously overnight or the old ones that had been stricken with disease and lay cracked apart
a head here, a broken body and three lumps of coal there
and one day he looked up from a piece of snow-colored rice paper and knew he was done. It was as simple as that: you bent over your work night after night, and one day you were done. Snow still lay in dirty streaks on the ground but clusters of yellow-green flowers hung from the sugar maples. — Steven Millhauser

Here on the head of an empty barrel stood on end were an ink-bottle, some old stumps of pens, and some dirty playbills; and against the wall were pasted several large printed alphabets in several plain hands. "What are you doing here?" asked my guardian. "Trying to learn myself to read and write," said Krook. — Charles Dickens

Because you're right. I want to control you, darlin'. Not in the way your fucking ex did, in a way that makes you come apart." A hot pulse of need shoots through me, igniting me with his words. He leans in closer and I have to tilt my head back to keep eye contact. "I want to fucking claim you. Tie you to my goddamn bed and force you to submit to me." He presses his mouth to the shell of my ear and I don't fight it, I wait. Wait for everything and more. "I want to do dirty things to you, Kenz. Things only dirty girls enjoy. I want to push every one of your limits so no man will ever be able to make you come like I do." His hot breath moves over my ear and I can't help the shiver that rolls through me. "I. Want. To. Own. You." He pulls back when he's finished. Both of our breathing thick with need. Holy shit. How do you respond to that? — River Savage

We got the bubble-headed-bleach-blonde who
Comes on at five
She can tell you 'bout the plane crash with a gleam
In her eye
It's interesting when people die -
Give us dirty laundry
Can we film the operation?
Is the head dead yet?
You know, the boys in the newsroom got a
Running bet
Get the widow on the set!
We need dirty laundry
You don't really need to find out what's going on
You don't really want to know just how far it's gone
Just leave well enough alone
Eat your dirty laundry — Don Henley

I had not laid a finger on the boy's head. I have never poked or prodded either a baby or a child, so why did I feel so dirty? Part of it was just my makeup, the deep-seated belief that I deserve a basement room, but a larger, uglier part had to do with the voices I hear on the talk radio, and my tendency, in spite of myself, to pay them heed. The man in the elevator had not thought twice about asking Michael personal questions or about laying a hand on the back of his head. Because he was neither a priest nor a homosexual, he hadn't felt the need to watch himself, worrying that every word or gesture might be misinterpreted. He could unthinkingly wander the halls with a strange boy, while for me it amounted to a political act - an insistence that I was as good as the next guy. — David Sedaris

Because the number one feeling that was waiting to pummel me over the head was damned, dirty shame. — Karina Halle

As DH Lawrence said, the Protestant societies do dirt on sex, it is their dirty mind which aligns sex and a woman's genitals with the debased and soiled. This is something terrible, I think, and to be contended with head-on in art. — Micheline Aharonian Marcom

Admit it. You just had sex," Alice hissed.

Cali's jaw dropped open. "That's none of your business," she replied in outrage, "and how the hell did you know?"

Alice shook her head "You're glowing orgasmically. It's disgustingly sweet. And Kent looks ridiculously relaxed and possessive."

Brushing her best friend away and flushing a little, Cali pretended to look for her salad tongs. "Mind your own business."

"Fine," Alice grumbled. "Don't tell me all the dirty details." She paused for a beat. Then added, "It was rear entry, wasn't it?"

Cali almost strangled on her shock and indignation. "It was not."

Alice chuckled maliciously. "Don't lie to me. He has that macho glint in his eyes. I'd know that look anywhere. I'm an anthropologist, remember? And mating rituals are one of my specialties. — Zannie Adams

Phillip look into Ray's eyes. He saw compassion and hope. And he saw himself mirrored back, bleeding in a dirty gutter on a street where life was worth less than a dime bag.
Sick, tired, petrified, Phillip dropped his head into his hands.
"What's the point?"
"You're the point, son." Ray ran his hand over Phillip's hair. "You're the point. — Nora Roberts

Perhaps it's something other than insomnia, to lie listening to children yelling as if they've re-created light; to try to dream, but succeed only in remembering; to toss and sweat in a dirty paste of sheets, while the drone of a ball game is gradually replaced by the buzz of a fly
a fly buzzing like the empty frequencies between stations as its shadow grows enormous between the shade and windowpane. Is it insomnia for a man to wad his ears with the cotton from a pill bottle, to mask his eyes with blinders, and press a stale pillow over his head, praying for another day to burn down, so he can wake into another night? — Stuart Dybek

I lived in a plenty tough neighborhood. When somebody called me a 'dirty little Guinea', there was only one thing to do-break his head. When I got older, I realized that you shouldn't do it that way. I realized that you've got to do it through education. Children are not to blame. It is the parents. How can a child know whether his playmate is an Italian, a Jew or Irish, unless the parents have discussed it in the privacy of their homes. — Frank Sinatra

Should I try to help her? Surely I was strong enough to loosen that stubborn backpack. And, in doing so, I could make a clever comment about how cold it must be outside for her nipple to get so hard. She'd laugh and toss her head back; her long blond hair would fall off her shoulders onto her back in slow motion. Thankful for my help, she'd lift up her shirt to give me a better look at her tits before I rip her clothes off and throw her down on the dirty hardwood floor.
Shit, I gotta stop watching so much porn. - Tyler Campbell, Safe With Me, Part 1 — Shaina Richmond

Pull yourself together, Detective. You're embarrassing yourself, and more imprtant, you're embarrassing me."
"They're going to do it outside. In public."
"So the fuck what?"
"Public," Peabody said, head still between her knees.
"You're being honored by this department and this city for having the integrity, the courage, and the skill to take out a blight on this department and this city. Dirty, murdering, greedy, treacherous cops are sitting in cages right now because you had that integrity, courage, and skill. I don't care if they do this damn thing in Grand Central, you will get on your feet. You will not puke, pass out, cry like a baby, or squeal like a girl. That's a goddamn order."
"I had more of a 'Relax, Peabody, this is a proud moment' sort of speech in mind," McNab murmured to Roarke.
Roarke shook his head, grinned. "Did you now? You've a bit to learn yet, haven't you? — J.D. Robb

It all happened in a second. The three of them reached Baby at the same time. She lay crumpled down on the dirty sidewalk. Her skirt was over her head, showing her pink panties and her little white legs. Her hands were open - in one there was the prize from the candy and in the other the pocketbook. There was blood all over her hair ribbon and the top of her yellow curls. She was shot in the head and her face was turned down toward the ground. — Carson McCullers

I love you." She was almost angry. "Do you get it? You. These kids. This life. It is my world."
He nodded. She knew he felt the same way, but this Blake didn't talk, he proved. He found the spot on her body that made her see white and held her until she was desperate for more. Then he reached behind her and turned on the washer.
Dirty. Filthy for her. He kissed her and added tongue, bit her neck gently while the vibrations from the machine increased.
She would come for him like this. He pushed up her shirt and pulled down her panties so he could be inside her when she was lost in the ecstasy of it, of him.
He came right after she did, and she locked him close with her legs, dragging her nails down his back as he bit his lip to stay quiet.
He kissed the top of her head in between gasps for air. He looked in her eyes before responding, "I get it. — Debra Anastasia

She tilts her head to the side and gives me a dirty look.
Damn, she's adorable. — M. Leighton

Livia kissed his chin. "Blake, I need you to do something for me. Will you do something for me?" Livia felt a little dirty about forcing him to agree before she told him how much she was asking.
"I'll do whatever you wish." Blake inclined his head in a solemn gesture.
"Will you walk in the sunlight if these are covering you?" Livia held out her sunshields.
Blake looked at the items. Then he nodded and took the mask.
Livia knew this was a risk. Hell, she was half sure she was delirious with lack of sleep and desperation. But she had an insatiable need to heal. I may lose him, but goddamn it, I have to try. — Debra Anastasia

The past plummeting towards me like a vulture-dropped hand to become what-purifies-and-sets-me-free, because now as I look up there is a feeling at the back of my head and after that there is only a tiny but infinite moment of utter clarity while I tumble forwards to prostrate myself before my parents' funeral pyre, a minuscule but endless instant of knowing, before I am stripped of past present memory time shame and love, a fleeting but also timeless explosion in which I bow my head yes I acquiesce yes in the necessity of the blow, and then I am empty and free, because all the Saleems go pouring out of me, from the baby who appeared in jumbo-sized front-page baby-snaps to the eighteen-year-old with his filthy dirty love, pouring out goes shame and guilt and wanting-to-please and needing-to-be-loved and determined-to-find-a-historical-role and growing-too-fast, I am free — Salman Rushdie

I sit on it's edge, looking down at the man who feels like he just materialized out of nowhere. My head still swims with euphoria from the moment...a moment I was just in with one man whilst sleeping next to another. Suddenly feeling dirty, I pull the sheets wrapped in front of my body closer. — E.J. Mellow

I turned on the water then returned to the door jamb. "That's not fair, you're nice and clean."
"I am?" He took a few steps toward me.
"Aren't you?"
"No," he scowled and shook his head. "I'm dirty. But you knew that."
Now, if you haven't heard an Irishman say the word "dirty" before, I will compare it with dynamite in your ovaries. They say it with like, seven Rs. — Nicole Castro

Sir Eustace was with Royce and Stefan looking over some maps when he was informed by the guard that the ladies were asking for him. "Is there no end to her arrogance!" Royce bit out, referring to Jenny. "She even sends her guards on errands, and what's more, they run to do her bidding." Checking his tirade, he said shortly, "I assume it was the blue-eyed one with the dirty face who sent you?"
Sir Lionel chuckled and shook his head. "I saw two clean faces, Royce, but the one who talked to me had greenish eyes, not blue."
"Ah, I see," Royce said sarcastically, "it wasn't Arrogance that sent you trotting away from your post, it was Beauty. What does she want? — Judith McNaught

Nico flinched and pain flickered within his green eyes. He struck the wall next to my head, causing me to jump. I don't want to be fair! I'm not interested in being nice! You're right. I'm playing games with you and I'm playing dirty because I want you, I need you, to be with you, to hear your voice, your laugh, to hold you, to touch you ... — Penny Reid

He swept his hand, indicating me from head to toe. "It's like you just broke your seal and slipped out of your plastic wrap".
"Why does everything you say sound obscene?"
"You look like a doll that's never been played with. That's all I'm saying. I can't help it if you have a dirty mind — Kat Falls

Its head, she tied on a neat little cap, and as both arms and legs were gone, she hid these deficiencies by folding it in a blanket and devoting her best bed to this chronic invalid. If anyone had known the care lavished on that dolly, I think it would have touched their hearts, even while they laughed. She brought it bits of bouquets, she read to it, took it out to breathe fresh air, hidden under her coat, she sang it lullabies and never went to bed without kissing its dirty face and — Louisa May Alcott

Doom. You recognize Doom easily. It's a feeling and a taste, and it's black, and it's very heavy. It comes down over your head, and wraps tentacles around you, and sinks long dirty fingernails into your heart. It has a stink of burning garbage. — Gil Brewer

The owner of the Post Office was called Maurice. A sixtyish-year-old with a large red nose that was pebble-dashed with broken capillaries, and a smooth bald head with a fuzz of grey hair around the side like the tide mark on a dirty bath. He had a gruff manner, distrusting eyes and a cough like kicked gravel. — R.D. Ronald

I learned to move silently in the background, a dirty, neglected little kid with no voice, no wants, and who made no trouble so as not to call the wrath of the eight or so tweaking adults who lived there down on me. I drifted, faded, and became a listless, ghostlike scavenger who took what she could get. I lived mostly in my head and for a while actually convinced myself that I was a survivor of one of those catastrophic earthquakes or tornadoes I used to see on the Weather Channel,a dazed, bewildered, and emotionless girl picking her way through an endless landscape of foul and stinking rubble to try and come out on the other side. — Laura Wiess

Hi, Nikki," Gavin said. Ariel didn't even bother looking up from Gavin's neck.
"Hey, Gavin," I said. "I thought that latest STD test came back positive? Ariel's head shot up. Good, I had her attention.
I kept my eyes on Gavin. "I'm happy to be wrong though."
Ariel pushed herself up off Gavin and stood there.
"It's not true," Gavin said, a disbelieving smile on his face.
"I've never even been tested."
"I'm out if here," Ariel said.
...
Gavin shot me a dirty look. "Thanks a lot Nikki."
Cole's lips twitched, obviously amused at what had just happened. — Brodi Ashton

Don't walk in my head with your dirty feet. — Leo Buscaglia

I broke away from Samedi and sprinted down the gangplank, screaming out Bram's name. His head turned, and he started limping toward me.
"Nora!" I heard someone yell.
Bram met me halfway. He scooped me up with one arm and pulled my head toward his. I didn't fight it in the least. He kissed me harshly, and I returned it, leaping up on my toes, seeking out his chapped, broken lips with my own, inexpertly, needfully. And then he just held me as I cried, soaking his dirty T-shirt with my tears, his cheek on my head.
"I thought you were gone," I managed to get out. "I thought you were really gone ... "
"I thought I was, too," he said, laughing weakly. "But I'd never leave you if I had the choice. I was going to get back to you, or grind to dust trying. — Lia Habel

Daemon glanced down at my hand. "You sure you're okay with that?"
I forced a smile. "This is all I have until I get out of this stupid building."
He nodded. "Just don't shoot yourself ... or me."
"Or me," added Archer.
I rolled my eyes. "What faith you guys have in me."
Daemon lowered his head toward mine. "Oh, I have faith in you. There's other
"
"Don't even think about saying something dirty or trying to kiss me while you're still in Nancy's body." I put a hand on his chest, holding him back.
Daemon chuckled. "You're no fun. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

Absence of that knowledge has rendered us a nation of wary label-readers, oddly uneasy in our obligate relationship with the things we eat ... Our words for unhealthy contamination
"soiled" or "dirty"
suggest that if we really knew the number-one ingredient of a garden, we'd all head straight into therapy. I used to take my children's friends out to the garden to warm them up to the idea of eating vegetables, but this strategy sometimes backfired: they'd back away slowly saying, "Oh man, those things touched dirt!" Adults do the same by pretending it all comes from the clean, well-lighted grocery store. We're like petulant teenagers rejecting our mother. We know we came out of her, but ee-ew. — Barbara Kingsolver

During my incarceration Mother visited me. She had in some way managed to leave the workhouse and was making an effort to establish a home for us. Her presence was like a bouquet of flowers; she looked so fresh and lovely that I felt ashamed of my unkempt appearance and my shaved iodined head.
'You must excuse his dirty face,' said the nurse.
Mother laughed, and how well I remember her endearing words as she hugged and kissed me: 'With all thy dirt I love thee still. — Charlie Chaplin

You don't have to be worried, okay? You don't have to be scared." His voice is twinkling again. "I'm not flirting with you."
Embarrassment sweeps through me. Flirting. A dirty word. He thinks I think he's flirting. "I'm not - I don't think you were - I would never think that you - " The words collide in my mouth, and now I know there's no amount of darkness that can cover the rush of red to my face.
He cocks his head to the side. "Are you flirting with me, then?"
"What? No," I splutter. My mind is spinning blindly in a panic, and I realize I don't even know what flirting is. I just know about it from textbooks; I just know that it's bad. Is it possible to flirt without knowing you're flirting? Is he flirting? My left eye goes full flutter. — Lauren Oliver

And so is another question that Sanderson's experience leads him to discuss: whether the mind is identical with the brain. He mentions a case of a man who died in a New York hospital, and who an autopsy revealed to have no brain, only "half a cupful of dirty water". This sounds, admittedly, like another of those absurd stories that are not worth discussing. But in the early 1980s Professor John Lourber of Sheffield University discovered a student with an IQ of 126 whose head was entirely filled with "water". A brain scan showed that the student's brain was merely an outer layer, only one millimetre thick. How can a person function with virtually no brain? Lourber, who specializes in hydrocephalis ("water on the brain") replies that he has come across many cases of perfectly normal people whose heads are filled with 95 per cent of fluid, and that 70 to 90 per cent is actually quite common. — Colin Wilson

I can be just as dirty. I could use my head or my elbows and we can we all dirty. — Carl Froch

You said he was a perfectly adequate lover."

"Perfectly adequate? I dont suppose I ever said that about you?" She only had to look and Logan and those rough hands to know he'd be a thoroughly, mind-blowingly, head-bangingly, DIRTY lover."

"I bloody hope not. — Amy Andrews

Lord, how unutterably disgusting life is! What dirty tricks it plays us, one moment free; the next, this. Here we are among the breadcrumbs and the stained napkins again. That knife is already congealing with grease. Disorder, sordidity and corruption surrounds us. We have been taking into our mouths the bodies of dead birds. It is with these greasy crumbs, slobbering over napkins, and little corpses that we have to build. Always it begins again; always there is the enemy; eyes meeting ours; fingers twitching ours; the effort waiting. Call the waiter. Pay the bill. We must pull ourselves up out of the chairs. We must find our coats. We must go. Must, must, must - detestable word. Once more, I who had thought myself immune, who had said, "Now I am rid of all that", find that the wave has tumbled me over, head over heels, scattering my possessions, leaving me to collect, to assemble, to head together, to summon my forces, rise and confront the enemy. — Virginia Woolf

What were you doing to that cat, boy?" Myrcella asked again, sternly. To her brother she said, "He's a ragged boy, isn't he? Look at him." She giggled.
"A ragged dirty smelly boy," Tommen agreed.
They don't know me, Arya realized. They don't even know I'm a girl. Small wonder; she was barefoot and dirty, her hair tangled from the long run through the castle, clad in a jerkin ripped by cat claws and brown roughspun pants hacked off above her scabby knees. You don't wear skirts and silks when you're catching cats. Quickly she lowered her head and dropped to one knee. Maybe they wouldn't recognize her. If they did, she would never hear the end of it. Septa Mordane would be mortified, and Sansa would never speak to her again from the shame. — George R R Martin

Trains are great dirty smoky things," said Will. "You won't like it."
Tessa was unmoved. "I won't know if I like it until I try it, will I?"
"I've never swum naked in the Thames before, but I know I wouldn't like it."
"But think how entertaining for sightseers," said Tessa, and she saw Jem duck his head to hide the quick flash of his grin. — Cassandra Clare

Punishment? You don't have any right to punish me. And I can curse. I choose not to most of the time, but don't think it doesn't go through my head, asshole. I was trying to give you something. I was trying to give you my body."
"That's where you fucked up, little girl. I don't want your body. I want your soul. I want your everything. And I definitely want your orgasms. I want them all. I'll be a greedy bastard, savoring them and hoarding them all for myself. You wanted to give me your body? I can buy that on a street corner, sweetheart. You're the one who's being selfish now."
"How is it selfish to offer to have sex? I don't understand what you want."
"First off, I want you to stop hiding yourself from me. You're the one making this tawdry by pretending it's dirty and not worthy of the light of day."
"I didn't mean it that way."
"We're going to do this my way. We tried yours and it didn't work, so I'm taking control. I should have done it in the first place. — Lexi Blake

Slowly, he lifts the flashlight. Her shorts are torn and frayed, her shirt ripped from chest to naval, exposing her black bra and dirty stomach. And then he raises the light so it reflects off her face, off the crimson tears streaming from the girl's eyes. Her boney hands fly up to protect her face, and her head tilts sharply as she hisses. — Laura Kreitzer

My other big mistake was letting it slide when she promised me a cut of her earnings. Because it turns out not many people want to stroll through head-high piles of scrap metal and rusty baby buggies down a path lined with artificial yucca plants to have their fortune told by a chain-smoking butterball in a dirty pink sweat suit. If I had thought about it long and hard enough I could've predicted that myself. — Kerry-Lee Powell

Ribbons I can see the artwork in my head, a dark background with a girl's naked body, melting from her hips down into ribbons of red. The image fits this song to a T. It's a bout breaking down and finding yourself in sex. I think Naomi started writing it before she'd ever had any. Only virgins are this dirty. — C.M. Stunich

May your glass always be full, may there always be a roof over your head, and may you dirty sinners be in heaven a half hour before the devil knows you're dead. — Jason Jack Miller

Rolfe unlocked the door, muttering, "This had better be worth my time," and stalked into the awaiting dimness beyond. Then stopped dead.
Even in the watery light, Dorian could perfectly see the woman sitting at Rolfe's desk, her black clothes dirty, weapons gleaming, and her feet propped on the dark wooden surface.
Aelin Galathynius, her hands laced behind her head, grinned at them all and said, "I like this office far better thank your old one Rolfe. — Sarah J. Maas

Escape is not a dirty word. None of us can face what's happening head-on all of the time. — Sheldon B. Kopp

I am safe with you. I can be myself and make mistakes, and I know you'll forgive me. You've already done so time and again." She walked to him, and when he tried to turn away, she grabbed his shoulders and forced him to look at her. "I remember when you came to visit me at the church. I was hungry and dirty and didn't even have a roof over my head, but when you were with me the world was perfect. And I was happy. I had a sense of purpose and belonging with you by my side. There isn't anywhere else I'd rather be. — Elizabeth Camden

She gave me a dirty look. Then she broke into the bubbly champagne laugh. She turned and ran, limping but steady. She laughed over he shoulder, letting out the line as I held the kite above my head.
"Run with me, Rose," she cried. — Elizabeth Wein

You're too good for me."
He laughed. "Are we talking about the same person? The selfish fucker who curses and yells, blows up cars and beats up people, because he has a temper he can't control? You know, the one who drinks like a fish and fries his brain with drugs? That person is too good for you?"
She shook her head. "I'm talking about the boy who shared his chocolate bar with me when he probably never shared anything before, who gave me his mama's favourite book, because he thought I deserved to read. The one who seems to be constantly fixing me up when I get hurt. I'm talking about the boy who treats me like I'm a regular girl, the one who desperately needs his bedroom cleaned and laundry washed but chooses to live in a mess and wear dirty clothes, because he's too polite to ask the girl he kisses for help."
"Wow," Carmine said. "I'd like to meet that motherfucker. — J.M. Darhower

Brin tilted his head. 'For a moment I thought you were a dirty little tramp like the rest of us, but then you go and ruin it. For future reference, stories about anonymous hookups in alleys should not end up with you going to the library alone.'
'I had a paper due.'
Brin burst out laughing and hugged him. 'You're too adorable for words.' — Lisa Henry

He kissed her then. Not tentative. Not polite.
This was no first-kiss kiss. It was demanding. Dirty. And it went on and on. Deep, open-mouthed, head-twisting, tongue-fucking, rock'n'roll kissing. — Amy Andrews

The sun flitered in through the small, dirty windows, catches his eyes. They are brown, ordinary, but the way he looks at me - no one has ever looked at me like he does. He looks at me like he sees something. Someone.
Me.
"All right," he says, and puts his hands behind his head.
"Go ahead. — Elizabeth Scott

Not so sweet after all," Logan commented with a wink. "No?" Logan shook his head. "There's a hint of sweet with a full helping of stubborn and dirty as fuck." Tate raised a brow as if to say, 'And?' "In other words, just right. — Ella Frank

What that song? I ast. Sound low down dirty to me. Like what the preacher tells you its sin to hear. Not to mention sing.
She hum a little more. Something come to me, she say. Something I made up. Something you help scratch out my head. — Alice Walker

I am a teller of stories ... a weaver of dreams. I can dance, sing, and in the right weather stand on my head. I know seven words of Latin. I have a little magic and a trick or two. I know the proper way to meet a dragon, can fight dirty but not fair, and once swallowed thirty oysters in a minute. I am not domestic. I am a luxury, and in that sense, necessary. — Anthony Minghella

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

You are a fucking delight, princess. It's like you know the dirty jokes in my head I'm too scared to make in front of you. — Melanie Harlow

There are two types of women in particular who inspire my envy. The first is an ebullient one, happily engaged from morning until night, able to enjoy things like group lunches, spontaneous vacations to Cartagena with gangs of girlfriends, and planning other people's baby showers. The bigger existential questions don't seem to plague her, and she can clean her stove without ever once thinking, What's the point? It just gets dirty again anyway and then we die. Why don't I just stick my head ... — Lena Dunham

You know there's absolutely nothing you could do that would be wrong, don't you?" Biting his lip, he ran the smooth head across the seam of her lips. "You could lap at it like a kitten, and I'd come like the dirty motherfucker I am. — Tessa Bailey

Yeah, you like that? You like it when Big Papa gives you his hot and juicy wiener?" I pant, my hips hammering against her. Her fists yank my hair, pulling my head away from her neck so hard that I see stars. "Ow! What the fuck?" I complain as she gives me a dirty look. "You cannot say shit like that when we're fucking. You Just can't," she warns me, letting out a low groan when I shift my hips and grind my pubic bone against her clit.
"What's wrong with a little dirty talk? I thought you'd like it." "I like dirty talk. I LOVE dirty talk. What you're doing is not dirty talk. It's 'weird as fuck' talk. Repeat after me: I love fucking you, your pussy is so tight," Ava demands. (Well, damn, that was hot. I kind of wish I had a vagina right now). — Tara Sivec

If you read any poetry or stories coming out these days, you know what I mean when I say that you can smell the stench of liquor coming from the words they write. And underneath their sentences lies a pile of chicken and goat bones, and the skeletons of the innocent ones. If you poke the head of the broom into contemporary literature, you'll find a hollow wall stuffed full of money - impure, dirty money. — Uday Prakash

Spade-"If you'd refrain from slamming my face any more into this dirty rock floor, I'll do whatever you like," was his even reply. "Fancy
letting my head go?"
Cat-"Sure," I said with an unpleasant snicker, not relinquishing an ounce of pressure. "How about I let you floss with my jugular as
well? I don't think so. — Jeaniene Frost

All the way back, she had imagined him gloating and taunting, rubbing her face in her own broken pride. Instead, he knelt before her and washed her dirty, blistered feet. Throat burning, she looked down at his dark head and struggled with the feelings rising in her. She waited for them to die away, but they wouldn't. — Francine Rivers

Bower City didn't do gloomy or rainy or sad. It didn't dirty its head with the ashes of mourning. It had one bright cheery note, and everyone was forced to sing it. — Josephine Angelini

It's my special magical power. I can read your mind when you're thinking dirty thoughts."
"So, ninety-five percent of the time."
She craned her head back to look up at him. "Ninety-five percent? What's the other five percent?"
"Oh, you know, the usual
demons I might kill, runes I need to learn, people who've annoyed me recently, people who've annoyed me not so recently, ducks."
"Ducks? — Cassandra Clare

I sigh. "I don't know what's happening to me."
"They're called hormones."
I shoot him a dirty look. "I'm serious."
"Me too." He cocks his head at me. "That's like, biological and shit. Scientific. Maybe your lady bits are scientifically confused."
"My lady bits?"
"Oh, I'm sorry" - Kenji pretends to look offended - "would you rather I use the proper anatomical terminology? Because you lady bits do not scare me-"
"Yeah, no thanks. — Tahereh Mafi

I don't really know what is shocking. When you tell the story of a man who is beheaded, you have to show how they cut off his head. If you don't, it's like telling a dirty joke and leaving out the punch line. — Roman Polanski

He made his voice low and smug as he thumbed her hardened nipple. Smearing soot in a lewd circle. "Don't play innocent, Miss Highwood. You've been wanting this. A hard, sweaty pounding from the village smith. These strong, dirty hands all over your body. You've been wanting it, haven't you?"

"I . . ."

He withdrew halfway, then slid deep. "Haven't you?"

As he moved in and out, her head bobbed in a subtle nod.

"Say it." He thrust hard.

She gasped. "Yes. — Tessa Dare

He immediately took her in his arms and cut off her stays. She didn't move. He shook her. "Artemis." Her head flopped back and forth limply. Makepeace laid a hand on his arm. "Your Grace." He ignored the other man. "Diana." "Your Grace, I'm sorry - " He swung back his arm and slapped her face, the sound echoing across the water. She choked. Immediately he flipped her so that her face was over the gunwale of the boat. She coughed and a great stream of dirty water fountained out of her mouth. He'd never seen such a wonderful sight in his life. — Elizabeth Hoyt

The Fifth Brother lived in a housing development, and his room was guarded by a crackhead with six arms, holding (in descending order, and going right to left) a dirty razor, a scale, a crumbled wad of five-dollar bills, a Saturday-night special, a human head, and nothing. Blood dripped from its mouth. "What is the secret to life?" it asked. "Crack," M said. "Correct!" the thing replied happily. "Do you have any?" "No," M said, but the crackhead with six arms let them by anyway. — Daniel Polansky

The boy was smaller than Bruno and was sitting on the ground with a forlorn expression. He wore the same striped pajamas that all the other people on that side of the fence wore, and a striped cloth cap on his head. He wasn't wearing any shoes or socks and his feet were rather dirty. On his arm he wore an armband with a star on it. — John Boyne