Feeling Playful Quotes & Sayings

What I'm feeling . . . it's unfamiliar - carefree, playful, light. . . . I feel light. — Kyra Davis

Don't be playful when I'm feeling emotional," I ordered.
To this, he strangely replied, "You get I'm a badass."
"Hard to miss, Deacon," I returned.
"Then don't tell me when to be playful. Badasses don't like that shit. — Kristen Ashley

I'm trained as an architect; writing is like architecture. In buildings, there are design motifs that occur again and again, that repeat
patterns, curves. These motifs help us feel comfortable in a physical space. And the same works in writing, I've found. For me, the way words, punctuation and paragraphs fall on the page is important as well
the graphic design of the language. That was why the words and thoughts of Estha and Rahel, the twins, were so playful on the page ... I was being creative with their design. Words were broken apart, and then sometimes fused together. "Later" became "Lay. Ter." "An owl" became "A Nowl." "Sour metal smell" became "sourmetal smell."
Repetition I love, and used because it made me feel safe. Repeated words and phrases have a rocking feeling, like a lullaby. They help take away the shock of the plot
death, lives destroyed or the horror of the settings
a crazy, chaotic, emotional house, the sinister movie theater. — Arundhati Roy

Well I'll be honest ... sometimes it's really hard-"
"I know." I smirked, feeling saucy. "I can tell. I'm pretty much straddling you right now."
"Really hard to stop, smart-ass," Brendan emphasized, giving me a playful squeeze before cocking an eyebrow at me. — Cara Lynn Shultz

Unable to resist any longer, he buried his fingers in the hair at the base of her neck and angled her face upward. He leaned forward and dropped soft little kisses onto her lips, starting at the corner and working his way across until she began to stir. Her lashes flittered. "Gid - ?" He smothered her question with his kiss. No longer playful, he took her mouth fully, holding nothing back. She was no longer Adelaide Proctor, governess. She was Adelaide Westcott, wife. His wife. It didn't take long for her to recover from her surprise. She clasped his shoulder for support and stretched toward him. His pulse surged, and when she finally pulled away, he refused to let her separate from him completely. He rested his forehead against hers and listened to their ragged breaths echoing in the quiet morning. "Feeling better today, are we?" Adelaide asked as she lowered her head back down to her pillow, her face a becoming shade of pink. Gideon grinned. "A little. — Karen Witemeyer

Travis came up behind her, his hat brim bumping her head as he nuzzled her neck. She giggled and danced away, feeling playful yet oddly shy at the same time. Travis gave chase, his husky laughter blending with hers as the two of them darted out of the barn. When they neared the porch, he grabbed her about the waist and lifted her off her feet. Meredith squealed. "You can't escape me," Travis murmured in her ear as he gently settled her back on the ground. Meredith turned in his arms to face the man she loved. "I've no desire to." His eyes darkened, and for a moment she thought he would kiss her. But then he scooped her into his arms and carried her up the porch steps. The front door proved more of a challenge to conquer. Travis had to juggle his hold on her a bit before he could get the latch open. Meredith laughed in delight, endeared by his awkward efforts. Once the door was cracked, he kicked it wide with his boot and carried her over the threshold. "Welcome home, Mrs. Archer. — Karen Witemeyer

The only emotions coming from him were light, playful - maybe with a little resignation wrapped in there, but positive feelings flowed across out bond.
"You are amused," I said. "What was in the vial? What are you so suddenly amused?"
He tipped his head. "It's...freeing, this shift in perspective. It's all rather insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but you want this - for campus, your new home, to be happy and free. Easy enough to assist with, so here I am."
"I had to drag you here."
"It wouldn't be a game otherwise. You would have been far more skeptical had I come willingly. You'd never have brought it and I'd have been made to stand elsewhere, relegated to being good."
I looked at him, then slipped my hand around his arm and squeezed. "I'd buy it."
Bonds wrapped around me - family, fondness, and something slightly darker and more fatalistic. He squeezed my hand beneath his, then pulled away before I could identify the last feeling. — Anne Zoelle

My relationship with fashion is playful and very expressive of what I'm feeling at the time. — Phoebe Philo

The driver got out smiling. He looked about seventeen or eighteen, and for a second, I had the uneasy feeling it was Luke, my old enemy. This guy had the same sandy hair and outdoorsy good looks. But it wasn't Luke. His smile was brighter and more playful. (Luke didn't do much more than scowl and sneer these days.) The Maserati driver wore jeans and loafers and a sleeveless T-shirt. "Wow" Thalia muttered. Apollo Is hot." "He's the sun god," I said. "That's not what I meant. — Rick Riordan

It will place a high value on communal life, more open leadership structures, and the contribution of all the people of God. It will be radical in its attempts to embrace biblical mandates for the life of locally based faith communities without feeling as though it has to reconstruct the first-century church in every detail. We believe the missional church will be adventurous, playful, and surprising. Leonard Sweet has borrowed the term "chaordic" to describe the missional church's inclination toward chaos and improvisation within the constraints of broadly held biblical values. It will gather for sensual-experiential-participatory worship and be deeply concerned for matters of justice-seeking and mercy-bringing. It will strive for a type of unity-in-diversity as it celebrates individual differences and values uniqueness, while also placing a high premium on community. — Michael Frost