Exposed Shoulder Quotes & Sayings

While working at a sawmill, he slipped and fell against the whirring blade, which tore through his upper body at the shoulder, creating a hole so large that his internal organs were exposed - one witness claimed he could see the poor man's beating heart - and leaving his arm attached by just a few strands of glistening sinew. The millworkers bound the injuries as best they could and carried Lindbergh home, where he lay in silent agony for three days awaiting the arrival of a doctor from St. Cloud, forty miles away. When the doctor at last reached him, he took off the arm and sewed up the gaping cavity. It was said that Lindbergh made almost no sound. Remarkably, August Lindbergh recovered and lived another thirty years. Stoicism became the Lindbergh family's most cultivated trait. — Bill Bryson

I'm always wary of beautiful women who carry knives." The chief laughed. "The wise words of someone who has experienced the wrath of one such lady and has a story I would like to hear." "I promise when this is over, the story is all yours." So long as I wasn't dead first. — Steve McHugh

The great artists of the world are never Puritans, and seldom even ordinarily respectable. — H.L. Mencken

There shall be time no more. — Fyodor Dostoyevsky

You were blasted out of the sanctuary. The force of the explosion caused the first avalanche that buried the Qayom Malak, but the fig and olive trees remained exposed, a beacon for the other sanctuaries that were built in the coming years. The Christians were here, the Greeks, the Jews, the Moors. Their sanctuaries fell, too, to avalanche, fire, to scandal or fear, creating a nearly impenetrable wall around the Qayom Malak. You needed me to help you find it again. And you couldn't find me until you really needed me."
"What happens now?" Cam asked. "Don't tell me we have to pray."
Dee's eyes never left the Qayom Malak, even as she tossed cam the towel draped over her shoulder. "Oh, it's far worse, Cam. Now you've got to clean. Polish the angels, especially their wings. Polish them until they shine. We are going to need the moonlight to shine on them in precisely the right way. — Lauren Kate

I often think that a slightly exposed shoulder emerging from a long satin nightgown packs more sex than two naked bodies in bed. — Bette Davis

Of course, it was Iris who'd actually exposed the traitor. He could tell Lulu, but Iris was just a young hothead with no sense for politics. She wasn't suited for Quentin's position; really, he was doing her a favor, saving her from future embarrassment when she couldn't handle the responsibility. And if defeating Quentin had been his test, surely this was his reward. He could always award Iris an extra banana allowance once he was officially made chancellor - he wasn't heartless. Hex bowed politely. "Your Majesty, I'm honored. I'll certainly consider your offer." She nodded and tossed the banana peel over her shoulder; a guard hurried forward to catch it. "Now," she said, "I must attend to my people." With that, she swept out the door, a scatter of rhinestones sparkling in her wake and the guard trailing behind her. — Danielle Paige

Can you even cry, anyway? With your eyes and all." Josh asks, fingers tapping a rhythm on the cushion behind Caid's right shoulder.
Caid swats his arm away. Says, "How is someone paying you to teach children? Of course I can fucking cry; it's not my tear ducts that are broken."
"I teach history, not the anatomy of eyeballs, shithead."
"How old are you?" Caid scoffs, feeling frustrated and exposed. He hates talking about his blindness. Hates it almost more than actually being blind. — Seventhswan

Punishment of a less immediately physical kind, a certain discretion in the art of inflicting pain, a combination of more subtle, more subdued sufferings, deprived of their visible display, should not all this be treated as a special case, an incidental effect of deeper changes? And yet the fact remains that a few decades saw the disappearance of the tortured, dismembered, amputated body, symbolically branded on face or shoulder, exposed alive or dead to public view. The body as the major target of penal repression disappeared. By — Michel Foucault

When you translate poetry in particular, you're obliged to look at how the writer with whom you're working puts together words, sentences, phrases, the triple tension between the line of verse, the syntax and the sentence. — Marilyn Hacker

It's extremely hard to know what the economic consequences of any decision will be. And I'm not a, a, a financial analyst, so I, I generally don't try to make some kind of prediction about that. — Naomi Oreskes

Becoming an actress takes a lot longer than being a star. I don't want to be a star. I want to be an actress. I want to build a career. — Carol Alt

Do anything rather than give yourself to reverie. — William Ellery Channing

Morpheus leans close. His hair brushes my exposed shoulder, tickling and soft. "Shy little blossom," he whispers, his sweet breath cloaking me. "We're simply going to meld your pain away."
Meld ... that doesn't sound like something my dad would approve of. — A.G. Howard

If I rest, if I think inward, I go mad. — Sylvia Plath

If Islamic countries can't come up with their own principles for women's competition," she said in one widely reported speech, "then the way dictated by Western oppressing countries will be imposed on us." Iran — Geraldine Brooks

I would hate to have parents who were always looking over my shoulder, reading my diary, checking my thoughts. I would hate to be exposed. And so, perhaps, when I say I long to be a pane of glass, I am lying. I long for partial obscurity at the same time that I long for someone to know me.
It is confusing and difficult to be me.
Sometimes I I need to cry in order to release the great welling sadness I feel in my head.
For this I need privacy. I do not want anyone to see me and ask why, almost as much as I would like to be comforted.
Somehow, without ever being present, Matthew has exposed all of this, brought it wriggling to the surface like worms. They gather there now, vaguely nostalgic for the dark. — Meg Rosoff