Dove Like Quotes & Sayings

I paced while he slept, ricocheting like a dove skidding the lonely confines of a Joseph Cornell box. — Patti Smith

He shrugged and laughed a little. "It was a stupid idea. Who takes a girl to a funeral as their first date?"
Dove fought through her gown so she could find his hand and hold it. She wanted to lick it, too, but restrained herself. "You do. It would be my honor to go to this old fart's funeral with you. Except pretend I said that like a person with a heart. — Debra Anastasia

I would like to make something that is real in itself that does not remind anyone of any other things, and that does not have to be explained like the letter A, for instance. — Arthur Dove

Dove ripped her panties off her body like the Hulk and threw them in the corner. — Debra Anastasia

Duke was already sitting in the passenger seat, waiting for her. She got in and started the car. Duke busted into a Slim Jim of his own.
"You hairy toad fucker. That stuff's nasty. Your toilet must be like a nuclear reactor." Dove turned on her windshield wipers as a light mist seemed to fracture the glass.
"I'm sorry, Whore Basket. I couldn't hear you over the noise of you crapping your pants!" Duke took another huge bite and chewed the waxy meat like gum.
"This stuff is off the charts. I could eat vats of it. — Debra Anastasia

An ear-splitting screech pierced the silence, followed by another, striking his ears like metal against a hollow bell. The woosh woosh of wind being displaced brought Andrew's attention skyward, and a glacial gust of paralyzing terror raced up his spine. The creature opened its mouth, and a blazing shaft of fire bellowed from above. Andrew barely had enough time to back beneath an awning for protection. Egnatious and Sebastian dove to the side while Firen sidestepped her impending doom, raising the katana in challenge.
The screeching returned, except now the howls were coming from every direction.
Firen's chest heaved. "Did you see that?" she asked, her stormy eyes glinting with rapture and daring as she held her katana out, preparing for the next attack.
"Did I see the dragon?" Sebastian asked, hysteria dangerously rising to the surface. He stood and brushed himself off. "Yes, I bloody well did see that enormous, scaly, fire-breathing dragon. — Laura Kreitzer

We are the children of this community.
We want love, friendship, and unity.
We want peace, joy, and compassion.
We love this world with great passion.
This is our world; this is our sweet home.
This world gives us love, light, and loam.
This world is a great global community.
We, the children, the future, want unity.
We like to live here with truth, trust, and love.
We like to fly here as a symbol of peace, a dove. — Debasish Mridha

On A Cold Day, Of A Cool Walking

The day is cold, and the clouds are gray.
The grass is white with frost, and may I say?
The sun is coming up, over the hill.
It's so quiet, and so still.
In the midst of all the trees, by the broke I see.
Something moving in the bush; what could it be?
The frost falls from the dead leaves, as he hops about in the breeze.
It's a bunny, all bundled up with fur, so he will not freeze.
Life keeps on going, even when we think not.
Where are you going, and what is your lot?
Looking for God's Love, from up above?
Jesus will fly to you, like a dove.
He is there; just start talking.
On a cold day, of a cool walking. — Jerrel C. Thomas

But the future is unknown, and stands before a man like autumnal fogs rising from the swamps; birds fly foolishly up and down in it with flapping wings, never recognizing each other, the dove seeing not the vulture, nor the vulture the dove, and no one knowing how far he may be flying from destruction. — Nikolai Gogol

It has memory's ear
that can hear without
having to hear.
Like the gyroscope's fall,
truly unequivocal
because trued by regnant certainty,
it is a power of
strong enchantment. It
is like the dove-
neck animated by
sun; it is memory's eye;
it's conscientious inconsistency. — Marianne Moore

The window gave onto a view of dove-gray roofs and balconies, each one containing the same cracked flowerpot and sleeping feline. It was as if the entire city of Paris had agreed to abide by a single understated taste. Each neighbor was doing his or her own to keep up standards, which was difficult because the French ideal wasn't clearly delineated like the neatness and greenness of American lawns, but more of a picturesque disrepair. It took courage to let things fall apart so beautifully. — Jeffrey Eugenides

DOVE"
"All my days are leafy blue
Because I'm not with you
All my words are ragged steel
When I'm not with you
See how the sun shines
Like an arc where you walk
All my fears are water clear
When I'm not with you
All I hear is wicked dear
When I'm not with you — Marc Bolan

I didn't believe you when you said there was a red statue that read "LOVE," with the LO stacked on top of the VE. LO VE It sounded like something out of one of the old fairy tales you used to tell me when I was a little girl. I thought you were kidding when you said people in the past believed in love so much that they made statues to celebrate it, so they wouldn't forget to LOVE ... well, that seemed kind of ridiculous - but when we dove down and you shined the thermal lantern, and it turned out to be true, I felt like there were so many possibilities in the world - like I'm only beginning to discover what's achievable. Maybe I will find a pure love - like what you and Mom have. — Matthew Quick

The Potter

Your whole body is
A glass of wine
Or sweetness destined for me.
When I raise my hand,
I find in every place a dove
Seeking for me,
As if, my love,
You were made of clay
For my very hands of a potter.
Your knees, your breasts,
Your waist,
Disappear in me like in a hollow
Of a thirsting earth
Where they lose
A form,
And together
We become like a single river,
Like a single grain of sand. — Pablo Neruda

I like stories"
He propped himself up on his elbow, looking down at her. "What sort of stories?"
"Stories with magic and intrigue. Tragedy. And Love."
"Ah yes...love. You can't have a story without love."
Joanna giggled and nodded, relaxing. "Well, you can have a boring story without love — Delilah Dove

The bird cawed. The loud cry echoed off the mountains. The raven swooped down before them again, narrowly missing Richard's head. Gaining height, the bird circled. The air whistled through its feathers as it dove at them, driving them back from the water. "Is that bird crazy?" Kahlan asked. "Maybe it's protecting a nest? Or do all ravens behave like that? — Terry Goodkind

Where will I find you now that my heart is yours?
Where should I search? I don't know where to look.
You fill my heart with desire and love,
The perfume of the lotus, the grace of a dove.
But then the dove flies far, far away,
All that is left is a song for my harp strings to play.
A voice in my memories like an angel of grace,
Where can I find you? Do you know how I pray?
Where will I find you now that my love belongs to you?
Wherever your heart beats, I'm dreaming of you.
Now and forever my love belongs to you ...
Now and forever my love belongs to you ... — Bjorn Street

I am tomorrow I wonder what the future holds. I hear rippling water that soothes me when things are not calm. I see the word success, big and bold. I want to see the world. I am Tomorrow I claim I already have what I know is yet to come. I feel apprehensive because change is something that I have to endure. I touch a black pen and make beautiful, vivid colors. I worry about inflation, war, revolution, a car, self-destruction, hate, hidden prejudices, my fate. I cry when I think I won't see my mom anymore. I AM TOMORROW I understand that tomorrow is not promised. I say live like you're trying to get your name on his list. I dream that I am happy, prosperous, and loved. I try to meet the world and greet them with a smile on my face. I hope that the weight on my shoulders will take off and fly like a dove. I am tomorrow — Ericka Davis

My darling,
My day's sweetest moments are at dawn, for I awake with dreams of you still in my head. As the light touches my lips, I can almost feel yours upon mine. I imagine your footsteps coming up the walk, but today is the same as the day before. It is only fanciful thinking.
As the first beams of morning sunlight dance across my weary shoulders I cry out, "How can you be so cheery and bright with so much sorrow across our land?"
I know I must be strong and face another day, but tears fill my eyes. Suddenly, a white dove lands upon my window sill. Surely this be the omen that peace is near at hand. Just like the breath of the coming Spring, this little dove now brings me new hope. God has heard our prayers and our Southland will flower again. — Nancy B. Brewer

Oh! welcome to the wearied Earth
The Sabbath resting comes,
Gathering the sons of toil and care
Back to their peaceful homes;
And, like a portal to the skies,
Opens the House of God,
Where all who seek may come and learn
The way the Saviour trod.
But holier to the wanderer seems
The Sabbath on the deep,
When on, and on, in ceaseless course,
The toiling bark must keep,
And not a trace of man appears
Amid the wilderness
Of waters
then it comes like dove
Direct from heaven to bless. — Sarah Josepha Hale

She wrangled her tits into the bustier cups. It was like trying to pipe Jello into an ant's anus, but eventually she was cinched tight. Dove tried the rollers again. No luck. They weren't coming out, and it made her a little sick to her stomach thinking about what it would take to remove them. — Debra Anastasia

So, are you moving in? Dove tried to look like she was casually leaning against a lamppost. But there was no lamppost, so it looked more like she had injured her back or one of her legs was shorter than the other. — Debra Anastasia

It's lovely to think that snow can be special. we're always told it is. Of all those million million flakes that fall, no two are alike, forever and ever, amen. I've spent some time looking out the window of my cabin watching snowflakes fall like a shot dove's feathers fluttering slowly down to the ground. They all look the same to me. — Kevin Powers

I should like to take the wind and water and sand as a motif and work with them, but it has to be simplified in most cases to colour and force lines, just as music has done with sound. — Arthur Dove

Like the Dove, the Lamb, and the Cock adorning our church towers. Yet all this does not alter the fact that in childhood we go through a phase when archaic thinking and feeling once more rise up in us, and that all through our lives we possess, side by side with our newly acquired directed and adapted thinking, a fantasy-thinking which corresponds to the antique state of mind. Just as our bodies still retain vestiges of obsolete functions and conditions in many of their organs, so our minds, which have apparently outgrown those archaic impulses, still bear the marks of the evolutionary stages we have traversed, and re-echo the dim bygone in dreams and fantasies. — C. G. Jung

Be like Noah's dove. She made use of her wings to fly, but trust in the ark for safety. — Thomas Watson

He gave me a feral grin. "Like what you see, dove?" "Nope." I hadn't had sex in eighteen months. Pardon me while I struggle with my hormone overload. — Ilona Andrews

His lashes, fluttered like butterfly wings. "I could've made you happy, dove." "You did," I whispered — Ann Aguirre

I think the record-buying public know what they like, and when people are trying to pander to them, I think they know it. They want the genuine article, so if we try to sort of "dumb down" for the mass public, I think they're too smart for that, and would recognize us as fakes. It seems like the bands that do crossover do so really on their own terms, and they just find that their terms just kind of make a big dove-tail with the masses. — Ira Kaplan

A girl stood before him in midstream, alone and still, gazing out to sea. She seemed like one whom magic had changed into the likeness of a strange and beautiful seabird. Her long slender bare legs were delicate as a crane's and pure save where an emerald trail of seaweed had fashioned itself as a sign upon the flesh. Her thighs, fuller and soft-hued as ivory, were bared almost to the hips, where the white fringes of her drawers were like feathering of soft white down. Her slate-blue skirts were kilted boldly about her waist and dovetailed behind her. Her bosom was as a bird's, soft and slight, slight and soft as the breast of some dark-plumaged dove. But her long fair hair was girlish: and girlish, and touched with the wonder of mortal beauty, her face. — James Joyce

What are they doing?' Mathys cried.
'They are mating, lad. And what a wondrous thing.'
Flukes grinding back and forth somewhere in the depths their song became a symphony vibrating across the ocean and ships in other latitudes vibrated and maybe continents vibrated and suddenly pressed close so close they looked like giantly godly Siamates and they drove themselves up and up rising out of the water all of them the massiveness the length of them high high into the blue above the blue below and they were blue and blue oceans sluicing down their sides and joined yes joined and everything all earthly things were small and they just stood there in the sky a young boys memory and then they dove back down into other atmospheres a deafening resounding roar that shook the timbers of the ship and shook the hearts of watching men and threw them to their knees. — Kiana Davenport

You're my dove,just like the one in the apartment,only much different.You're more special,more free,more human.You're my dove and I'm your keeper. — Emily James Ray

We should always do something that makes us feel like a child again. Keep learning, no matter what it is. — Rita Dove

If in the moonlight from the silent bough
Suddenly with precision speak your name
The nightingale, be not assured that now
His wing is limed and his wild virtue tame.
Beauty beyond all feathers that have flown
Is free; you shall not hood her to your wrist,
Nor sting her eyes, nor have her for your own
In any fashion; beauty billed and kissed
Is not your turtle; tread her like a dove -
She loves you not; she never heard of love. — Edna St. Vincent Millay

A heart with love flies like a dove in the sky of beauty and kindness. — Debasish Mridha

When the San Francisco Democrats treat foreign affairs as an afterthought, as they did, they behaved less like a dove or a hawk than like an ostrich - convinced it could shut out the world by hiding its head in the sand. — Jeane Kirkpatrick

Sleep [is like] a dove which has landed near one's hand and stays there as long as one does not pay any attention to it. — Viktor E. Frankl

The First Book: Go ahead, it won't bite. Well ... maybe a little. More a nip, like. A tingle. It's pleasurable, really. You see, it keeps on opening. You may fall in. Sure, it's hard to get started; remember learning to use knife and fork? Dig in: you'll never reach bottom. It's not like it's the end of the world
just the world as you think you know it. — Rita Dove

The history of Israel is divided into two parts. One, under attack that we have had to defend ourselves. When you defend yourself your thinking is totally different from when you want to make peace. So under attack you behave like if you want a hawk, when peace comes you become a dove. — Shimon Peres

Beyond the tilled plain, beyond the toy roofs, there would be a low suffusion of inutile loveliness, a low sun in a platinum haze with a warm, peeled-peach tinge pervading the upper edge of a two-dimensional, dove-grey cloud fusing with the distant amorous mist. there might be a line of spaced trees silhouetted against the horizon, and hot still noons above a wilderness of clover, and claude lorrain clouds inscribed remotely into misty azure with only their cumulus part conscpicuous against the neutral swoon of the background. or again, it might be a stern el greco horizon, pregnant with inky rain, and a passing glimpse of some mummy-necked farmer, and all around alternating strips of quick-silverish water and harsh green corn, the whole arrangement opening like a fan, somewhere in kansas. — Vladimir Nabokov

A retaliator behaves like a hawk when he is attacked by a hawk, and like a dove when he meets a dove. When he meets another retaliator he plays like a dove. A retaliator is a conditional strategist. His behaviour depends on the behaviour of his opponent. — Richard Dawkins

On A Cold Day, Of A Cold Walking

The day is cold, but clouds are gray.
The grass is white with frost, and may I say?
The sun is coming up, over the hill.
It's so quiet, and so steal.
In the midst of all the trees, by the broke I see.
Something moving in the bush; what could it be?
The frost falls from the dead leaves, as he hops about in the breeze.
It's a bunny, all bundled up with fur, so he will not freeze.
Life keeps on going, even when we think not.
Where are you going, and what is your lot?
Looking for God's Love, from up above?
Jesus will fly to you, like a dove.
He is there; just start talking.
On a cold day, of I called walking. — Jerrel C. Thomas

At the end of the week, when we sat down to dinner, all eyes went to the trays on the table, where browned-to-perfection mini corn dogs cuddled up against a variety of dipping sauces.
"This is the best thing that's ever happened to me." A lineman wiped a tear from his eye.
"It's like Christmas," I said, all choked up.
"I love you, Coach." The quarterback's bottom lip quivered.
We dove into the pile of savory sausages, watched NFL football, and forgot our aches, pains, and camp struggles. — Jake Byrne

There was another world below - this was the problem. Another world below that had volume but no form. By day the sea was blue surface and whitecaps, a realistic navigational challenge, and the problem could be overlooked. By night, though, the mind went forth and dove down through the yielding - the violently lonely - nothingness on which the heavy steel ship traveled, and in every moving swell you saw a travesty of grids, you saw how truly and forever lost a man would be six fathoms under. Dry land lacked this z-axis. Dry land was like being awake. Even in chartless desert you could drop to your knees and pound land with your fist and land didn't give. Of course the ocean, too, had a skin of wakefulness. But every point on this skin was a point where you could sink and by sinking disappear. — Jonathan Franzen

What awe must have come to the hearts of that waiting band as they listened to that "sound as of the rushing of a mighty wind" - what a sense of the irresistible power of God! But there was also the appearance of "tongues parting asunder, like as of fire." Fire typifies the activity of God's holiness in relation to sin; fire consumes and fire purifies. When the Spirit came upon Christ, it was not as the fire but "as a dove," for there was no sin in Him, as the Father then declared, "Thou art my beloved Son; in thee I am well pleased" (Luke 3:22). But here the tongues "like as of fire" sat upon each of them, bringing not only a sense of the infinite holiness of God but of the activity of that holiness in dealing with all that was unholy in themselves. — Arthur Wallis

The kiss wasn't just any kiss. No, it was a tricky little bastard, because it started out soft and gentle, but shifted gears in a matter of seconds. The moment her response went from surprise to surrender, the kiss turned hard and hungry, launching us into a frenzy of movement. Her arms were around my neck, my hands were moving all over her body, and somehow, in a span of about five seconds, she climbed up me like a tree, her legs wrapped tightly around my waist.
We spun and bumped into the counter. I reached behind my back with one hand to tighten the cross of her ankles. And then I had her sitting on the edge of the stovetop, my hands exploring the tops of her thighs. I pushed the ruffled skirt hem up and clasped on to her bare, silky skin. Her tongue dove to the back of my throat, sliding over mine like wet, slick velvet.
Holy mother fuck, I couldn't breathe. I was drowning in this girl. — Rachael Wade

I woke this morning with tears poured like rain To realize alot in the world is in vein My wish to all is peace love and light To bring all together and negativity take flight. Your heart can be pure and riddled with love You just have to care and watch flight of a dove Talk is cheap and fables are true Follow your heart and never be blue. — Peace Gypsy

I dove on those papers like Sherlock Holmes on a cappuccino binge. — Jordan Sonnenblick

It's not funny. How would you like it if your balls fled in fear? My balls haven't been this frightened since I dove into the icy water at the Polar Bear Plunge my first year of high school. — K.C. Faelan

I'm pretty relaxed with my skincare. I really like two brands: Tata Harper and Ren, which is a natural skincare line. I use lotions, and I use Dove soap. — Amanda Hearst

Here's the deal. We go in, you stand there like the asshole you are, and I explain you aren't gay lovers with the pharmacist. Sound good?" Dove clicked her blinker on and checked her side mirror.
"All I heard was blah, blah, holding your dick later, blah, blah." Duke rolled down his window and stuck his face into the night. — Debra Anastasia

Gansey turned the key. The engine turned over once, paused for the briefest of moments - and then roared to deafening life. The Camaro lived to fight another day. The radio was even working, playing the Stevie Nicks song that always sounded to Gansey like it was about a one-winged dove. — Maggie Stiefvater

So Recklessly Exposed

December and January, gone.
Tulips coming up. It's time to watch
how trees stagger in the wind
and roses never rest.

Wisteria and Jasmine twist on themselves.
Violet kneels to Hyacinth, who bows.

Narcissus winks, wondering what will
the lightheaded Willow say
of such slow dancing by Cypress.

Painters come outdoors with brushes.
I love their hands.

The birds sing suddenly and all at once.
The soul says Ya Hu, quietly.

A dove calls, Where, ku?
Soul, you will find it.

Now the roses show their breasts.
No one hides when the Friend arrives.

The Rose speaks openly to the Nightingale.
Notice how the Green Lily has several tongues
but still keeps her secret.

Now the Nightingale sings this love
that is so recklessly exposed, like you. — Jalaluddin Rumi

Not so much for Carnival?" I asked Ben playfully, hooking my arm through his.
"Not so much for driving through Carnival," Ben amended.
"Too tough for you?"
"I travel with you. Nothing's too tough for me."
"Not even that guy?"
He turned to look, and the minute his attention was diverted, I raced to the elevators.
"Hey!" Ben cried, and ran after me, but I dove and pressed the button first.
"Yes!" I cheered.
"Loser," Ben said.
"Actually, I just won. Let's go up and change, then we can hit the Samba Parade."
"Change? But I like you just the way you are."
"You are such a dork."
Ben nodded, accepting the title with grace as the elevator arrived. — Hilary Duff

little sun little moon little dog
and a little to eat and a little to love
and a little to live for

in a little room
filled with little
mice
who gnaw and dance and run while I sleep
waiting for a little death
in the middle of a little morning

in a little city
in a little state
my little mother dead
my little father dead
in a little cemetery somewhere.

I have only
a little time
to tell you this:

watch out for
little death when he comes running

but like all the billions of little deaths
it will finally mean nothing and everything:

all your little tears burning like the dove,
wasted. — Charles Bukowski

And finally the two of them plunged into the dark sea, a sea like a pack of wolves, and they dove around the boat trying to find young Reiter's body, with no success, until they had to come up for air, and before they dove again, they asked the men on the boat whether the brat had surfaced. And then, under the weight of the negative response, they disappeared once more among the dark waves like forest beasts and one of the men who hadn't been in before joined them, and it was he who some fifteen feet down spotted the body of young Reiter floating like uprooted seaweed, upward, a brilliant white in the underwater space, and it was he who grabbed the body under the arms and brought him up, and also he who made the young Reiter vomit all the water he had swallowed. — Roberto Bolano

No, I was just thinking how much I like hearing you talk about numbers. It's soothing. Dove was tempted to lean her head back in a friendly way and clamp on his cock like a toothless, sucking pit bull. — Debra Anastasia

When Dove moves up from a canter to a gallop, sometimes the only way I can tell the difference is because her hooves pound a four-time rhythm instead of a three. But when Corr moves into a gallop, it's as if it's a gait that's just been invented, something so much faster than all the others that it should be called something else ... Each stride feels like it takes us a mile. We'll run out of island before he runs out of speed. We're giants, on his back. — Maggie Stiefvater

The town of L - represented the earth, with its sorrows and its graves left behind, yet not out of sight, nor wholly forgotten. The ocean, in everlasting but gentle agitation, and brooded over by a dove-like calm, might not unfitly typify the mind and the mood which then swayed it. For it seemed to me as if then first I stood at a distance, and aloof from the uproar of life; as if the tumult, the fever, and the strife, were suspended; a respite granted from the secret burthens of the heart; a sabbath of repose; a resting from human labours. Here were the hopes which blossom in the paths of life, reconciled with the peace which is in the grave; motions of the intellect as unwearied as the heavens, yet for all anxieties a halcyon calm: a tranquility that seemed no product of inertia, but as if resulting from mighty and equal antagonisms; infinite activities, infinite repose. — Thomas De Quincey

Peace is not just a colored ribbon. It's more than a wristband or a t-shirt. It's not just a donation or a 5 K race. It's not just a folk song, or a white dove. And peace is certainly more than a celebrity endorsement. Peace is a fulltime job. It's protecting civilians, overseeing elections, and disarming ex-combatants. The UN has over 100,000 Peacekeepers on the ground, in places others can't or won't go, doing things others can't or won't do. Peace, like war, must be waged. — George Clooney

Now, among the heresies that are spoken in this matter is the habit of calling a grey day a "colourless" day. Grey is a colour, and can be a very powerful and pleasing colour ... A grey clouded sky is indeed a canopy between us and the sun; so is a green tree, if it comes to that. But the grey umbrellas differ as much as the green in their style and shape, in their tint and tilt. One day may be grey like steel, and another grey like dove's plumage. One may seem grey like the deathly frost, and another grey like the smoke of substantial kitchens. — Gilbert K. Chesterton

The mermaids came to me finally, in the pink hours of my life. They are my consolation. For them I dove with arms outstretched, my life streaming out behind me, a leap against all proprieties and expectations, but a leap that was somehow saving and necessary. How can I ever explain or account for that? I dove, and a pair of invisible arms simply appeared, unstinting arms, like the musculature of grace suddenly revealing itself. They caught me after I hit the water, bearing me not to the surface but to the bottom, and only then pulling me up. — Sue Monk Kidd

Maybe one night I'll be asleep and I'll feel a hand like a dove on my cheekbone and feel her breath cool like peppermints and when I open my eyes my mom will be there like an angle, saying in the softest voice, When you are born it is like a long, long dream. Don't try to wake up. Just go along until it is over. Don't be afraid. You may not know it all the time but I am with you. I am with you. — Francesca Lia Block

It is written, 'Be wise as serpents and innocent as doves' (Mt. 10:16). Being like serpents means not ignoring the attacks and wiles of the devil. Like is quickly shown to like. The simplicity of the dove denotes purity of action. — Syncletica Of Alexandria

As we're leaving the King's Arms Hotel after Sunday lunch, I watch a beautiful white dove walking down the wet road. A car approaches and the bird accidentally turns into the wheel rather than away from it. A gentle crunch. The car passes. A shape like a discarded napkin left in the road. Still perfectly white, no red stains, but bearing no relation anymore to the shape of a bird. A trail of white feathers flutter down the road after the car. The suddeness is very upsetting. That gentle crunch. — Antony Sher

They locked him in the stockade for four days. No other prisoners occupied the other cells that ran the length of the room. He was alone, and that was fine with him. He needed to think, and that was best done in a place where he wouldn't see Ginesse Braxton - Ginesse, not Mildred - because she did things to his thought processes, such as dammed them up completely.
She acted and he reacted: viscerally, irrepressibly, and ruinously.
She fell in the water; he dove in after her. She laughed; he smiled. She mentioned the beauty of the sunset; he saw colors in it he hadn't ever noticed. She peeked at him from under her gold-tipped lashes; he grew hard as Damascus steel. Pomfrey said something derogatory; he wanted to kill the sonofabitch with his bare hands.
Things like that. — Connie Brockway

She and Kennedy both dove for the power connector; Kennedy reached it first and yanked out the connection as Alex landed on her stomach beside it.

The air settled down until the fine hairs on her arm no longer stood on end. Alex dropped her forehead to the platform and started laughing. "Just like university, isn't it?"

"Almost - nothing's actually blown up yet. — G.S. Jennsen

Abs? What are you, a workout video?" he sneered.
"Pigeon?" I said with the same amount of disdain. "An annoying bird that craps all over the sidewalk?"
"You like Pigeon," he said defensively. "It's a dove, an attractive girl, a winning card in poker, take your pick. You're my Pigeon. — Jamie McGuire

And again, though we cannot prove, we feel, that we are deathless. We perceive that life is not like those dramas so beloved by the people - in which every villain is punished, and every act of virtue meets with its reward; we learn anew every day that the wisdom of the serpent fares better here than the gentleness of the dove, and that any thief can triumph if he steals enough. If mere worldly utility and expediency were the justification of virtue, it would not be wise to be too good. And yet, knowing all this, having it flung into our faces with brutal repetition, we still feel the command to righteousness, we know that we ought to do the inexpedient good. — Will Durant

Holy shit, dude. I think you just saved my life!'
'I think you broke my ribs.'
'I can't believe you dove at me like fucking batman. It was kind of badass actually.'
'That's me. The high school badass. — Caleb Roehrig

I was not interested in doing the plot of OEDIPUS in blackface. I did wonder, what would these people have been like if they hadn't been in that situation? ... One could look at Oedipus, or at my character Augustus, as a cynical schemer who did everything because he was hungry for power. But that's just too easy. I'm more interested in how humans can embody conflicting goals and emotions. — Rita Dove

A maiden was imprisoned in a stone tower. She loved a lord. Why? Ask the wind and the stars, ask the god of life; for no one else knows these things. And the lord was her friend and her lover; but time passed, and one fine day he saw someone else and his heart turned away. As a youth he loved the maiden. Often he called her his bliss and his dove, and her embrace was hot and heaving. He said, Give me your heart! And she did so. He said, May I ask you for something, my love? And she answered, in raptures, Yes. She gave him all, and yet he never thanked her. The other one he loved like a slave, like a madman and a beggar. Why? Ask the dust on the road and the falling leaves, ask life's mysterious god; for no one else knows these things. She gave him nothing, no, nothing did she give him, and yet he thanked her. She said, Give me your peace and your sanity. And he only grieved that she didn't ask for his life. And the maiden was put in the tower. . . . — Knut Hamsun

"The flowers have appeared in our land: the time of pruning is come: the voice of the turtle-dove is heard in our land." When the soul, like the solitary turtle-dove, retires and recollects itself in meditation to converse with God, then the flowers, that is, good desires, appear; then comes the time of pruning, that is, the correction of faults that are discovered in mental prayer. — Alphonsus Liguori

You want to see what this is like? Then please don't use your imagination. Use experience. — Debra Anastasia

Did not just admit that I loved him. Please God, let him think I said something else - anything else. Like maybe I dove you. That was better. — J. Lynn

I change jobs like drinking water ... And as I grow accustomed to the new flavor of a drink I regard as delicious, yes, vital, something fades, life balks. So I break camp; I shed skins. — Rita Dove

Your nipples are like Novocain."
"You're at a distinct advantage because I have no idea what controlled substance your nipples are like." He ran his tongue across his top teeth. — Debra Anastasia

Holy tit fungus! Did you give Sasquatch an autopsy in here? God almighty, girl." He waddled back into the hallway, this time holding his privates with both hands. "You balded the dick mitten. Nice. Let me see it."
He looked at her like she might drop trou simply because he suggested it.
"I would rather lick a monkey's armpit than show you my vagina." Dove gave him the finger.
"You know what I love best about a naked muff hole? It looks just like a camel's dangly lips." Duke extended his own lips to make them appear gummy and slack. — Debra Anastasia

He couldn't believe it!
He knew her intent before she dove for her sgian dubh. But he couldn't react quickly enough. He wasn't about to allow her to arm herself again. He dropped his sword, needing both hands free and lunged for her, only with his body this time. Tackling her, he took her down, her back cushioned by the wealth of leaves, and planted his body on top of hers.
She grew very still then, and he smiled a little at her. "If you had done just as I asked, we wouldna be like this, now would we lassie?"
Sorcha was fuming mad and scared witless as the braw Highlander pressed his body on top of hers. She felt his staff growing against her belly the longer he remained between her legs. He was beautiful, his dark brown eyes swimming with lust, his long brown hair hanging about her face as she looked up at him, panting for breath, trembling, despite wishing to show he didn't frighten her one bit. But he did. — Terry Spear

Dove tried to take her mind away from his man meat, but it was like her brain was paralyzed by dick osmosis. Johnson's feet were big, which meant ...
He has a monster cock. — Debra Anastasia

His hand dove beneath my seat and surfaced with the sawed-off vintage Lupara.
"I distinctly remember telling you not to bring that thing," I complained.
"Felt like you were daring me. — Jenn Bennett

Helen, don't."
"I thought it was only a misunderstanding. I thought if I spoke to you directly, everything would be s-sorted out, and - " Another sob choked her. She was so consumed by emotion that she was only vaguely aware of Rhys hovering around her, reaching for her and snatching his hands back.
"No. Don't cry. For God's sake, Helen - "
"I didn't mean to push you away. I didn't know what to do. How can I make you want me again?"
She expected a jeering reply, or perhaps even a pitying one. The last thing she expected was his shaken murmur.
"I do want you, cariad. I want you too damned much."
She blinked at him through a bewildered blur, breathing in mortifying hiccups, like a child. In the next moment, he had hauled her firmly against him.
"Hush, now." His voice dropped to a deeper octave, a brush of dark velvet against her ears. "Hush, bychan, little one, my dove. Nothing is worth your tears."
"You are. — Lisa Kleypas

Dove smiled in satisfaction. "Something I picked up in the south of France. It's the purest jasmine from Grasse, which makes it very special indeed."
"Why?" Evie sniffed again. The scent was rich and sensual, curling against her like a cat and warming itself on her skin.
"Child, jasmine is one of the most seductive scents imaginable, and the stuff from Grasse is the finest in the world. In the little village where I collected that, the farmers won't even let their nubile daughters walk through the fields when the flowers are ripe for fear they won't be able to control themselves."
"I can see why," Evie murmured. The heavy fragrance was intoxicating, and she felt like someone entirely new. — Deanna Raybourn

The boy knelt, shoulders bowed, on the sand in the grey of morning, moaning softly, fearfully. Glowing tendrils of energy streamed across the agitated sky, converging high above him in a vortex of brightness. He flung his hands heavenward and a sheet of blinding brilliance descended from the vortex. It enveloped him and from its core a pulsing sphere of light fell, entering his body and almost tearing him apart. He went rigid, screaming to shatter the heavens, his dark eyes bulging from their sockets, his mouth wide in a rictus of agony. Sirius exploded in a burst of silver-blue radiance, as his howl rose to a shriek beyond hearing and endurance. Out of the light and the sound and the anguish, two names imprinted themselves on his mind. One of them, he knew, was his own.
The other floated for an instant above his consciousness like a fugitive white dove in the morning. — J. Valor

She especially liked my bedside lamp, which had a five-sided porcelain shade. Unlit, the shade seemed like bumpy ivory. Lit, each panel came to life with the image of a bird: a blue jay, a cardinal, wrens, an oriole, and a dove. Kathleen turned it off and on again, several times. "How does it do that?"
"The panels are called lithophanes." I knew because I'd asked my father about the lamp, years ago. "The porcelain is carved and painted. You can see it if you look inside the shade."
"No," she said. "It's magic. I don't want to know how it's done. — Susan Hubbard

The Reverie of Poor Susan
AT the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears,
Hangs a Thrush that sings loud, it has sung for three years:
Poor Susan has pass'd by the spot, and has heard
In the silence of morning the song of the bird.
'Tis a note of enchantment; what ails her? She sees
A mountain ascending, a vision of trees;
Bright volumes of vapour through Lothbury glide,
And a river flows on through the vale of Cheapside.
Green pastures she views in the midst of the dale
Down which she so often has tripp'd with her pail;
And a single small cottage, a nest like a dove's,
The one only dwelling on earth that she loves.
She looks, and her heart is in heaven: but they fade,
The mist and the river, the hill and the shade;
The stream will not flow, and the hill will not rise,
And the colours have all pass'd away from her eyes! — William Wordsworth

I believe managing is like holding a dove in your hand. If you hold it too tightly you kill it, but if you hold it too loosely, you lose it. — Tommy Lasorda

One day when we came to a stop, a worker took a piece of bread out of his bag and threw it into a wagon. There was a stampede. Dozens of starving men fought desperately over a few crumbs. The worker watched the spectacle with great interest... Years later, I witnessed a similar spectacle in Aden. Out ship's passengers amused themselves by throwing coins to the "natives," who dove to retrieve them. An elegant Parisian lady took great pleasure in this game. When I noticed two children desperately fighting in the water, one trying to strangle the other, I implored the lady, 'Please don't throw any more coins!' 'Why not?' said she. 'I like to give charity... — Elie Wiesel

This women's orchestra made a demure picture in their muted dove grays, alright, but they played like they were gowned in scarlet and gold. — Bailey Bristol

Performers and their public should never meet. Once the curtain comes down, the performer should fly away like a magician's dove. — Edith Piaf

A strange cold fear gripped him as he looked down at that angelic face resting against his shoulder. Her thick dark lashes lay heavy against her perfect olive skin like two perfect dark crescent moons concealing those glorious starry green eyes burdened with anguish much too raw and intense for a teenager to bear. She was frail and tiny and much too beautiful, light as a feather in his arms, like a pure white dove. Things were only going to get worse before they were going to get better but that was okay because Logan was determined to be there for Sienna every step of the way. — Ali Harper

A good poem is like a bouillon cube. It's concentrated and it nourishes you when you need it. — Rita Dove

Michael wasn't on the pool deck, which was hard for me. None of my old Coral Springs teammates were around. Still, that old plane of cement felt like home. I folded my clothes and put them on the bench. I placed my water bottle under my starting block, and I dove in. Once again, I felt that ultimate state of transition, my feet no longer on the ground, my hands not yet in the water. — Dara Torres

He knew how to handle pain. You had to lie down with pain, not draw back away from it. You let yourself sort of move around the outside edge of pain like with cold water until you finally got up your nerve to take yourself in hand. Then you took a deep breath and dove in and let yourself sink down it clear to the bottom. And after you had been down inside pain a while you found that like with cold water it was not nearly as cold as you had thought it was when your muscles were cringing themselves away from the outside edge of it as you moved around it trying to get up your nerve. He knew pain. — James Jones

He apologized profusely. "I knew that frog position was too freaky. I'm sorry."
"It's not that, Johnson. Did you notice that like every third thrust I was like a virgin? That was my asshole." Dove put a hand on his shoulder. — Debra Anastasia

Nexus
I wrote stubbornly into the evening.
At the window, a giant praying mantis
rubbed his monkey wrench head against the glass,
begging vacantly with pale eyes;
and the commas leapt at me like worms
or miniature scythes blackened with age.
the praying mantis screeched louder,
his ragged jaws opening into formlessness.
I walked outside;
the grass hissed at my heels.
Up ahead in the lapping darkness
he wobbled, magnified and absurdly green,
a brontosaurus, a poet. — Rita Dove

The dove, as it flies in the sun, seems simply to sparkle like silver, but only one who has been able to wait at length to discover its hidden face will see its true gold or, rather, the color of a shining orange. — Umberto Eco

Love can be angry ... with a kind of anger in which there is no gall, like the dove's and not the ravens. — Saint Augustine

Mom! Look. This one is my favorite," Devin said, pulling out a faded pink dress with a red plaid sash. The crinoline petticoat underneath was so old and stiff it made snapping sounds, like beads or fire embers. She dropped the dress over her head, over her clothes. It brushed the floor. "When I'm old enough for it to fit me, I'm going to wear it with purple shoes," she said.
"A bold choice," Kate said as Devin dove back into the trunk. The attic in Kate's mother's house had always fascinated Devin with its promise of hidden treasures. When Kate's mother had been alive, she had let Devin eat Baby Ruth candy bars and drink grape soda and play in this old trunk full of dresses that generations of Morris women had worn to try entice rich men to marry them. Most of the clothes had belonged to Kate's grandmother Marilee, a renowned beauty who, like all the rest, had fallen in love with a poor man instead. — Sarah Addison Allen

'Shoot the wounded ... what we do to people who are the most vulnerable ... we 'shoot the wounded.' As if they haven't suffered enough, we add to it by gossiping and treating hurt people like outcasts." ... "I think we killed Ronnie's spirit ... Instead of coming alongside her and supporting her through this, I failed her ... — Lynn Dove