Furrowed Quotes & Sayings

Still, the logical part of her realized that the hazel-eyed, dark-scruff iteration of This Guy who sat
across from her right then hadn't actually done anything wrong to her. Because of that, she smiled in
an effort to be polite. "That's nice of you to ask. But, unfortunately, I'm going to have to say no."
"Great." He nodded, as if expecting this very answer. Then his brow furrowed, and he cocked his
head. "Wait - what?"
Sidney bit her lip to hold back a laugh. Ah ... when she told this story later to Trish, the perplexed
look on this guy's face would be the highlight. — Julie James

Strax slammed his fist into the open palm of his other hand. 'At last,' he pronounced. 'We strike for the greater glory of the Sontaran Empire. Sontar-Ha!' His brow furrowed slightly as he saw the others' expressions. 'That is. For the greater glory of Paternoster Row, of course. Pater-Nos-Ta! — Justin Richards

[Francesca] 'You really are a few biscuits short of breakfast.'
His eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
'You're a few colors shy of a rainbow?' she offered. 'Not pulling a full wagon? Knitting with only one needle? All foam and no beer? Your cheese slid off the cracker? You couldn't pour water out of a boot with instructions on the heel?'
[Nicodemus] 'All right. I get it. — Blake Charlton

All these things have you said of beauty.
Yet in truth you spoke not of her but of needs unsatisfied,
And beauty is not a need but an ecstasy.
It is not a mouth thirsting nor an empty hand stretched forth,
But rather a heart enflamed and a soul enchanted.
It is not the image you would see nor the song you would hear,
But rather an image you see though you close your eyes and a song you hear though you shut your ears.
It is not the sap within the furrowed bark, nor a wing attached to a claw,
But rather a garden for ever in bloom and a flock of angels for ever in flight.
People of Orphalese, beauty is life when life unveils her holy face.
But you are life and you are the veil.
Beauty is eternity gazing at itself in a mirror.
But you are eternity and your are the mirror. — Kahlil Gibran

So what are you afraid of?" She paused, considering how to answer. "Hope." His brow furrowed. "Hope scares you?" "I try not to hope for anything," she said. "If you expect nothing, you aren't disappointed when you get nothing." "That's — J.M. Darhower

Brady! You can't watch that!"
He looked up at me, his eyebrows furrowed, from his place on the floor. The remote was far away from him, next to the screen, so he couldn't have changed the channel. I snatched it up and hit the information button. "What the hell is a YoGabbaGabba?" I looked back over at Brady and frowned. "Uh, never mind. Go ahead."
Walking with purpose back into the kitchen, I whispered into the receiver. "Okay. No joke, there is a talking, dancing, bright red, studded dildo on the screen. There are other ones that look like him, and I swear to God one is wearing a condom on his head. That's a kids' show?" I looked back into the living room. "Whatever happened to good old-fashioned cartoons? Don't they have good shit like Animaniacs anymore? — Amber L. Johnson

The Old Testament records the sage words of an old woman in addressing two younger ones: 'The Lord grant', said Naomi, 'that ye may find rest, each of you, in the house of her husband!' Who ever heard of a woman finding rest in the house of her husband?
And yet, and yet ! The restless hearts are not
the hearts of wives and of mothers, as many a lonely woman knows. There is no more crushing load than the load of a loveless life. It is a burden that is often beautifully and graciously borne, but its weight is a very real one. The mother may have a bent form, a furrowed brow, and worn, thin hands ; but her heart found its rest for all that. Naomi was an old woman; she knew the world very well, and her words are worth weighing. Heavy luggage is Christ's strange cure for weary hearts. — F.W. Boreham

Got your stuff?"

Nora's checks flushed. "Um, yeah, but..."

"What?"

"My hand hurts so much, and I need two hands to do my button. Could you...um..."

He furrowed his brow, unsure what she meant as she trailed off, blushing more now. Following her gaze, he glanced down at her pants. Sure enough, her jeans were on but unbuttoned, revealing a peek of the tiny green short-shorts from her uniform.

He chuckled and reached forward, buttoning her jeans for her. "I've never put pants on a woman before, but I'll make an exception this time."

"I appreciate your sacrifice," she said sarcastically, and Kane decided then and there that he wanted to see her smiling like that all the time. — Sarah Robinson

Anna is something wrong " he asked his brow furrowed.

Yes I want to say. You ran a prison camp for Jews. You keep my parents locked in the ghetto. You let your wife's father be killed and would kill Jacob too if given the chance. Your wretched Gestapo came to our house and now Lukasz might have to leave us. Let me count the ways. Of course I did not dare to say any of this. "No Herr Kommandant " I replied managing to keep my voice even. "Everything is fine. — Pam Jenoff

Where are you going?"
"To get my wife back."
"How do you know where to look?"
I hold my phone up. "I've got a map."
"A map?" He laughs. Laughs. "You ever feel like Admiral Ackbar with the Death Star plans?"
I look at him, brow furrowed.
"You know ... Return of the Jedi? It's a trap!"
I shake my head.
"Really? Nothing?" He scrunches up his face as if I disgust him. "How are we even friends?"
"We're not. — J.M. Darhower

Dead towns are the Cathedrals of Silence. They, too, have their gargoyles, singular figures, exaggerated, dubious, set in high profile. They stand out from the mass of grey, which takes all it has in the way of character, its twitchings of stagnant life from them. Some have been distorted by solitude, others grimace with a directionless fervour; here there are masks of cherished lust, there faces ceaselessly sculpted and furrowed by mysticism. Human gargoyles, the only figures of interest in this monotonous population. — Georges Rodenbach

I chuckled. "Yeah, okay." He relaxed, sinking back in his chair, mirroring my smile. "But you know the old saying," I told him. His brow furrowed. "What old saying?" "Two people can keep a secret," I said, "if one of them is dead." He barely had time for the shock to register on his face as I grabbed his wrist and yanked up his right hand. I pressed the muzzle to his temple and his hand to the barrel. "No," he gasped, just before I pulled the trigger and painted his desk cherry red. — Craig Schaefer

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

A mother's love is indeed the golden link that binds youth to age; and he is still but a child, however time may have furrowed his cheek, or silvered his brow, who can yet recall, with a softened heart, the fond devotion, or the gentle chidings, of the best friend that God gives us. — Christian Nestell Bovee

She placed a protective arm around him and drew him closer to her. Her expression was pensive, her lips drawn in a tight line and her brow furrowed. Kruger saw the shadow of grief pass briefly over her features. — Martin Marais

Only problem with the whole scheme, really, is that Lauren's about to blow up the planet. See, that's the part you aren't in on. The thing in the Box? It's an angel. And it's really old and really pissed off." "You're bluffing," Nicky said. "Are we?" Caitlin shrugged. "We're keeping things under wraps to avoid a panic, but a full report's been delivered to the prince and his inner council. A council which, last time I checked, includes your father. Why don't you get in touch with him? Ask him who Belephaia is." He looked from her to me and back again, resting his hand on his desk phone. His brow furrowed as he worked out the implications. — Craig Schaefer

Waltz back into our lives as if nothing had happened. We were dealing with Dad's death and I wasn't about to take on her problems, too." "I'm not going to argue with you, sweetheart. Like I said, you did the right thing." "I have to wonder," she murmured, her brow furrowed with consternation. "Karen ... " "I know, I know. It doesn't do any good to rehash this over and over. What's done is done. When I spoke to Nichole about the inheritance, she was adamant we did everything we should have. Cassie wasn't — Debbie Macomber

I know where the Iberian Peninsula is, Iris."
"I know, I know, you probably built the first road or furrowed the first wheat field ever sown there."
"Brat."
"Cradle robber."
"Grave robber. — Molly Harper

But why should I go there?"
She looked sideways at him. All the time they had been talking Kostoglotov's face had grown kinder and softer.
"Why should you?" He furrowed the skin of his forehead, as though searching for words with which to propose a toast. "Zoyenka, how can you tell which part of the world you'd be happy in, and which you'd be unhappy in? Who can say he knows that about himself? — Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn

As we passed by on the stony causeway, women looked up at us from the fields, their faces furrowed with all known distresses. By their sides, lambs skipped in gaiety and innocence, and goats skipped in gaiety but without innocence, and at their feet the cyclamens shone mauve; the beasts and flowers seemed fortunate because they are not human, as those who have passed within the breath of a plague and have escaped it. — Rebecca West

Dantes had entered the Chateau d'If with the round, open, smiling face of a young and happy man, with whom the early
paths of life have been smooth. and who anticipates a future corresponding with his past. This was now all changed. The oval face was lengthened, his smiling mouth had assumed the firm and marked
lines which betoken resolution; his eyebrows were arched beneath a brow furrowed with thought; his eyes were full of melancholy, and from their depths occasionally sparkled gloomy fires of misanthropy and hatred; his complexion, so long kept from the sun, had now that pale color which produces, when the features are encircled with black hair, the aristocratic beauty of the man of the north; the profound learning he had acquired had besides diffused over his features a refined intellectual expression; and he had also acquired, being naturally of a goodly stature, that vigor which a frame possesses which has so long concentrated all its force within itself. — Alexandre Dumas

Let the labyrinth of wrinkles be furrowed in my brow with the red-hot iron of my own life, let my hair whiten and my step become vacillating, on condition that I can save the intelligence of my soul - let my unformed childhood soul, as it ages, assume the rational and esthetic forms of an architecture, let me learn just everything that others cannot teach me, what only life would be capable of marking deeply in my skin! — Salvador Dali

I'm not good at much in this world."
Her brow furrowed. She didn't like hearing me say that. She'd never liked it when I knocked myself down.
"But I'm good at loving you, — Elizabeth Finn

I haven't done anything you're supposed to do. Like get so drunk you puke and don't remember the rest of the night."
"Overrated, I swear."
She looked at me, that deadly look on her face, and I held up my hands. "Fine. You wanna get drunk and puke, I'm not gonna stop you."
"But I want to do, like more than just drinking." Her brow furrowed and I could practically see the wheels in her brain spinning. "I should make a list and outline a plan."
I was going to point out that list-making wasn't the best way to let loose, but I decided to let it go. — Cindi Madsen

One thing had always confused Quentin about the magic he read about in books: it never seemed especially hard to do. There were lots of furrowed brows and thick books and long white beards and whatnot, but when it came right down to it, you memorized the incantation - or you just read it off the page, if that was too much trouble - you collected the herbs, waved the wand, rubbed the lamp, mixed the potion, said the words - and just like that the forces of the beyond did your bidding. It was like making salad dressing or driving stick or assembling Ikea furniture - just another skill you could learn. It took some time and effort, but compared to doing calculus, say, or playing the oboe - well, there really was no comparison. Any idiot could do magic. — Lev Grossman

At Adam's fine cheekbones, his furrowed fair eyebrows, his beautiful hands, everything washed out by the furious light. He had memorized the shape of Adam's hands in particular: the way his thumb jutted awkwardly, boyishly; the roads of the prominent veins; the large knuckles that punctuated his long fingers. In dreams Ronan put them to his mouth. His feelings for Adam were an oil spill; he'd let them overflow and now there wasn't a damn place in the ocean that wouldn't catch fire if he dropped a match. Chainsaw — Maggie Stiefvater

Another, more fluid metaphor for the world of thought gradually suggested itself to him, derived from his former voyages at sea. A philosopher who was trying to consider human understanding in all its aspects would behold beneath him a mass molded in calculable curves, streaked by currents which could be charted, and deeply furrowed by the pressure of winds and the heavy, inert weight of water. It seemed to him that the shapes which the mind assumes are like those great forms, born of undifferentiated water, which assail or replace each other on the surface of the deep; each concept collapses, eventually, to merge with its very opposite, like two waves breaking against each other only to subside into the same single line of white foam. — Marguerite Yourcenar

Darkis pointed toward the dwarf sitting btween them on the ground. "Uh, don't you think that's a bit much?"
Turi and Ethis each held separate ropes around the bound hands and feet of the dwarf. A gag was tied tightly over hi mouth.
Ethis considered the prisoner for a moment before replying. "No, it seems a resonable precaution." "Why? What did he do?" Darkis said. The chimera looked at each other, thier blank faces considering for a moment. "He kept promising not to escape," Thuri answerd at last. "He promised not to escape," Darkis asked, his brow furrowed with the puzzle, "and so you tied him up?"
"He wouldn't shut up about it," Ethis replied, his large eyes blinking indignantly. "He kept going on and on about how we could trust him and how he had nowhere to run and how he was glad it was us who took him as a slave captive of war."
"It was unnerving," Thuri finished. — Tracy Hickman

No we talked about matter- most notably quarks, those tiniest possible components of everything.They come in six flavors, you know: up, down, top, bottom, charm and strange. I'll admit those talks helped me, and when i read about the sea quarks, I understood why. They contained particles of matter and antimatter, and where the two touch exists this constant stream of creation and annihilation. Scientist call this place "the sea," and it's what pitches inside of me as I hurry away from Mr. Byles, ignoring his furrowed brow, his worried frown.
I am of the sea.
I am of instability.
I am of harsh, choppy waves roiling with all the up-ness, down-ness, top-ness, bottom-ness contained within my being.
I am of charm and strange.
Annihilation.
Creation.
Annihilation. — Stephanie Kuehn

But what if you don't like Chico?" she asked him, her brow furrowed.
"Will you be there? Because if that's where you want to be, I'll find plenty to like. — Robyn Carr

Venus of Willendorf carries her cave with her. She is blind, masked. Her ropes of corn-row hair look forward to the invention agriculture. She has a furrowed brow. Her facelessness is the impersonality of primitive sex and religion. There is no psychology or identity yet, because there is no society, no cohesion. Men cower and scatter at the blast of the elements. Venus of Willendorf is eyeless because nature can be seen but not known. She is remote even as she kills and creates. The statuette, so overflowing and protuberant, is ritually invisible. She stifles the eye. She is the cloud of archaic night. — Camille Paglia

Oh, I don't know. I might grow on you."
She furrowed her pretty eyebrows. "Like a cancer?"
"Like a favorite vice. — Ilona Andrews

Megan almost pouted at the reappearance of the black T-shirt covering his body, but a chuckle bubbled out at the sight of two bowls, two spoons, and four half gallons of ice cream lined up on the kitchen counter. "What do you want for breakfast?" she deadpanned.
His brow furrowed. He looked from her to the ice cream and back. "I thought ... "
She patted his arm. All solid muscle. "Just teasing. Dig in. — Laura Kaye

Amelia furrowed her brow and said adamantly. "I'm not staying here tonight. No way!"
Rick cleared his throat and was about to tell her there was no other hotel in town. They had no choice but to stay here. After a moment, he thought better of it. He made it his goal to never argue with an irate woman. If he had anything to say, it was better to wait until she was calm. He knew that much about women.
When Rick was old enough to date, his father had warned him: "Any man who is not afraid of a woman's wrath is a fool. Wait until she's calmed down before talking with her."
Rick gave a curt nod. He thought it best to do as his father had warned. — Linda Weaver Clarke

His brow furrowed. "It's beautiful ... and awful, too. What is it?"
"It's me — Jessica Shirvington

The walls shrugged themselves loose from their foundations and slid towards the centre of the room, as if attracted by the struggle. The ceiling, a massive rectangular slab of concrete furrowed with fluorescent white, also shuddered loose and loomed down on her. — Michel Faber

She went as through a forest
the columns were furrowed like ancient trees, and in through the forest flowed the light, many-hued and clear as song, from the pictured windows. High up above her, beasts and men sported among the stone leafage, and angels played
and yet far, dizzily far higher, the vaulting soared, lifting the church towards God. In a hall that lay to one side, worship was being held at an altar. Kristin sank down on her knees by a pillar. The singing cut into her like a too strong light. Now she saw how low she lay in the dust ... Pater noster. Credo in unum Deum. Ave Maria, gratia plena. — Sigrid Undset

Loki," I said.
"Hey, Princess." He smiled dazedly as he looked up at me. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." I smiled and shook my head. "Not anymore."
"What's this?" He took my hair and held it out so i could see. A curl near the front had gone completely silver. "I take a nap, and you go gray?"
"You didn't take a nap." I laughed. "Don't you remember what happened?"
He furrowed his brow, trying to remember, and understanding flashed in his eyes.
"I remember ... " Loki touched my face. "I remember that I love you." I bent down, kissing him full on the mouth, and he held me to him. — Amanda Hocking

You won't enjoy it," sighed Crowley. "It's been in the car for more than a fortnight." A heavy bass beat began to thump through the Bentley as they sped past Heathrow. Aziraphale's brow furrowed. "I don't recognize this," he said. "What is it?" "It's Tchaikovsky's 'Another One Bites the Dust'," said Crowley, closing his eyes as they went through Slough. To while away the time as they crossed the sleeping Chilterns, they also listened to William Byrd's "We Are the Champions" and Beethoven's "I Want To Break Free." Neither were as good as Vaughan Williams's "Fat-Bottomed Girls. — Terry Pratchett

He shrugged against her. "The people of Luna don't need a princess. They need a revolutionary."
Cinder furrowed her brow. "A revolutionary," she repeated. She liked that a lot better than princess. — Marissa Meyer

The fresh complexion of former days was gone. A mortal pallor covered those features, which he had known so charming and so gentle, and sorrow had furrowed them into pitiless lines and traced dark and unspeakably sad shadows under her eyes. — Gaston Leroux

Soap. If you're going to do that, we might as well kill two birds with one stone."
Fen's brows furrowed. "Why would you want to do that? Arrows are much more accurate. — Dana Marie Bell

I took a deep breath and kept my focus fixed on her. "Making me chase you wouldn't be a good idea right now, flower," I stated, fully aware of my Wolf.
"No, it wouldn't, but you need to stay over there," she said firmly.
My brow furrowed. "Why?"
"Because, if you come near me, I will want to kiss you," she said, nibbling her lower lip the way I wanted to.
"Well good, because I want to kiss you too." I moved back the way I had come, and so did she. "Clare - "
"No, not good." She shook her head. "Kissing leads to touching, or grinding, or" - she shuddered as her energy suggestively brushed against mine - "or petting, and almost stripping. — Elizabeth Morgan

when the Lord built the world
he furrowed his brow
calculated calculated calculated
that is why the world is perfect
and uninhabitable

instead the world of the painter
is good
and full of mistakes
the eye wanders
from one color to another
one fruit to another
the eye mumbles
the eye smiles
remembers

the eye says it is bearable
only if one could
enter inside
there where the painter was
without wings
in slippers that fall off
without Virgil
with a cat in the pocket
a benevolent fantasy
and a hand
that unknowingly
corrects the world — Zbigniew Herbert

One look at Rebecca and Aunt B would have an instant apoplexy.
Raphael's eyebrows furrowed. "My mother's approval isn't necessary."
Aha. "Does she know that? — Ilona Andrews

This wasn't in the histories", Raistlin murmured to himself, staring down at the little wretched bodies, his brow furrowed. His eyes flashed. "Perhaps", he breathed, "this means time has already been altered?"
For long moments he sat there, pondering. Then suddenly he understood.
None saw Raistlin's face, hidden as it was by his hood, or they would have noted a swift, sudden spasm of sorrow and anger pass across it.
"No," he said to himself bitterly, "the pitiful sacrifice of these poor creatures was left out of the histories not because it did not happen. It was left out simply because-"
He paused, staring grimly down at the small, broken bodies. "No one cared ... — Tracy Hickman

We are dust furrowed by the painful plough of Destiny to give birth to the emptiness of a time. — Sorin Cerin

A lot can happen in that time.And, seriously, if you have to give up a dream to be with a guy, maybe you've chosen the wrong guy."
Chelsea's brow furrowed and she fiddled with her fingers. "And what if the time comes and the dream doesn't seem worhth it?"
David's and Tamani's face seemed to float before Laurel's eyes, the Academy looming in the background.She shrugged and forced the images from her mind. "Then maybe it was the wrong dream. — Aprilynne Pike

Suppressing a chuckle, Dajon leaned and peered intently into her eyes. "What are you doing?" she snapped. "Trying to see if there are two of you in there." He grinned and then furrowed his brow. "The transformation is so swift and unpredictable, I know not which of you to expect, vixen or enchantress. — MaryLu Tyndall

Can I ask you something?" Matty's brow furrowed. "Sure." "How do you fix your hair so your horns don't show?" He — J.M. Darhower

What are you doing?" Egnatious asked, eyebrows furrowed as he watched Gabriella do a flip.
Firen mimicked Gabriella and turned to Egnatious. "Fun times. Go with it." She didn't even crack a smile, though her body language said she was laughing on the inside.
Instead of following their act, Egnatious simply dove for an outcrop just as it began moving away. He nearly lost his balance, but Firen caught his flailing arms.
"Are you having a seizure or something?" she jested, displaying a rare vein of humor.
Egnatious sent her a queasy glare. — Laura Kreitzer

Vegas?" I asked. His brow furrowed, unsure of where I was headed.
"Yeah?"
"Have you thought about going back?" His eyebrows shot up.
"I don't think that's a good idea for me."
"What if we just went for a night?" He looked around the dark room, confused.
"A night?"
"Marry me," I said without hesitation. I was surprised at how quickly and easily the words came. His mouth spread into a broad smile.
"When?" I shrugged.
"We can book a flight tomorrow. It's spring break. I dont't have anything going on tomorrow, do you?"
"I'm callin' your bluff," he said, watching my reaction closely as he was connected. "I need two tickets to vegas, please. Tomorrow. Hmmmm ... ," he looked at me, waiting for me to change my mind. "Two days, round trip. Whatever you have. — Jamie McGuire

Would you be willing to take a lie detector test?"
"I'm afraid not," he said. "It goes against my religion."
His brow furrowed. "How?"
"Only God can judge me ... — J.M. Darhower

I furrowed my eyebrows."Are you looking at my bosom, sir?"
The eyes snapped back up. "At such a serious moment? What do you take me for?"
"A rogue, I believe." I tried not to smile. — Jaclyn Dolamore

The tongue is the best masseur of furrowed brows. — Idries Shah

Ah, Princess," Dallben said, with a furrowed smile, "a crown is more discomfort than adornment. If you have learned that, you have already learned much. — Lloyd Alexander

With drooping shoulders The majority sit hunched, their foreheads furrowed like Stony ground that has been repeatedly ploughed-up to no purpose. — Bertolt Brecht

What are you?" she asked. "A monster," said Kell hoarsely. "You'd better let me go." The girl gave a small, mocking laugh. "Monsters don't faint in the presence of ladies." "Ladies don't dress like men and pick pockets," retorted Kell. Her smile only sharpened. "What are you really?" "Tied to your bed," said Kell matter-of-factly. "And?" His brow furrowed. "And in trouble. — Victoria Schwab

furrowed, and she leaned forward as though she'd seen him in the darkness. Jerking back behind the plant, he decided it wouldn't be good to be found on the porch. — Michelle Shocklee

He opened her door, helped her to the ground, and held
her before him. "You're cold."
Unable to meet his gaze, Kara spoke without thinking.
"N-no, it's not that."
His brow furrowed for a moment and then he seemed to
understand. He grinned, a sexy know-it-all grin, and ran a
finger down her cheek. "I'm glad I was able to provoke a
reaction."
Her sexual frustration became irritation. She glowered at
him. "How is it you remain so unaffected?"
His eyebrows rose, and he gave a snort. "Unaffected?"
Without warning, he cupped her bottom, pulled her hard
against him, and she felt the unmistakable evidence of his
arousal. He was rock-hard, huge.
Her inner muscles clenched - hard - and the air rushed
out of her lungs. "Oh!"
He thrust against her, his eyes dark with obvious male
hunger. His voice was deep and husky. "Nothing about you
leaves me unaffected, Kara. — Pamela Clare

Out of curiosity, would you be willing to take a lie detector test?"
"I'm afraid not," he said. "It goes against my religion."
His brow furrowed. "How?"
"Only God can judge me. I certainly don't trust a machine to do it."
"You only have to worry if you're untruthful. Do you plan to lie?"
"No, I prefer to sit, thank you. — J.M. Darhower

Captain! To your left there's a Lunar guard and on your right is a doctor who's running tests on Lunars and I'm being held by one of Levana's wolf hybrids and please be careful!"
Thorne took a step back into the hallway a gun from his waistband. He spent a moment swiveling the barrel of the gun in each direction, but nobody moved to attack him.
With some surprise, Cress realized that the operative's grip had weakened.
"Er ... " Thorne furrowed his brow, aiming the gun somewhere near the window. "Could you describe all those threats again because I feel like I missed something. — Marissa Meyer

Clay's brow's furrowed as the yuppie, Yankee, tone filled his ear. Who the hell could be dating a yuppie in Midnight? Sure, one could end up with a Yankee; it wasn't out of the realm of possibility, but a fucking yuppie? — Alex Morgan

When book and reader's furrowed brow meet, it isn't always the book that's stupid. — William H Gass

You know what's kind of funny? Well, not funny, but ironic, maybe? She's been here nine months now, and it takes nine months to create life. It's like she's been reborn. And the fact that tomorrow you turn eighteen is just another piece of it. It feels like right now is the start of something, like we're at the beginning and not the finish line."
Dominic started to walk away but paused after a few steps, his brow furrowed. "Actually, I don't think that's what irony is. Haven would probably correct me again and say I was being symbolic. — J.M. Darhower

Bellow

"Tell the range and all that's howling,
the flickers of life beyond the weeds,
the vulture's furrowed brow of flight,
the blasted sticky Canadian lawn thistle;
tell the clowned-out clouds and the rain,
and all that makes you go quiet again,
tell them that you didn't come here
to make a fuss, or break, or growl, or
scream; tell them-crazy sky and stars
between-tell them you didn't come
to disturb the night air and throw a fit,
then get down in the dark and do it. — Ada Limon

He looked up as the party emerged and nickered a soft hello to his master, who was dressed in an unfamiliar green cloak and had dirt plastered on his face. Halt glanced at him, brow furrowed, and silently mouthed the words 'shut up'. Abelardshook his mane, which was as close as a horse could come to shruging, and turned away.
'My horse recognized me,' Halt said accusingly out of the side of his mouth to Horace.
Horace glanced at the small shagging horse, standing beside his own massive battlehorse.
'Mine didn't,' he replied. 'So that's a fifty-fifty result.'
'I think I'd like odds better than that,' Halt replied.
Horace suppressed a grin. 'Don't worry. He can probably smell you.'
'I can smell myself,' Halt replied acerbically. 'I smell of tea and soot.'
Horace thought it was wiser not to reply to that. — John Flanagan

David furrowed his brow. "I ... I don't understand half of what goes on around me. I don't get jokes or sunsets or poetry, but I know metal." His fingers flexed unconsciously as if he were physically grasping for words. "Beauty was your armor. Fragile stuff, all show. But what's inside you? That's steel. It's brave and unbreakable. And it doesn't need fixing." He drew in a deep breath then awkwardly stepped forward. He took her face in his hands and kissed her.
Genya went regid. I thought she'd push him away. But then she threw her arms around him and kissed him back. Emphatically.
Mal cleared his throat, and Tamar gave a low whistle. I had to bite my lip to stifle a nervous laugh.
They broke apart. David was blushing furiously. Genya's grin was so dazzling it made my heart twist in my chest. — Leigh Bardugo

We need to get you laid."
Despite the fact she couldn't see my face, my brow furrowed. "How is that going to help?"
"Rebound sex is exactly what you need right now, sweaty, dirty, work-your-frustration-out sex. In fact, I have the perfect guy in mind - "
I jolted up quickly at the sound of a firm tapping. I looked over at the window to see Kacey's sun kissed face, his shades resting at the edge of his long nose, baby blue eyes fixed on me.
I placed my hand over my thumping heart. "You ass."
"Bitch?"
"Not you, Jayne." I climbed off my bed. "Kay and Ty are here."
"Speak of the devil, and his sexy ass will most definitely appear. — Elizabeth Morgan

Piercings," Prophet said, his brow furrowed. "You're the one who put them back in. Don't worry - you'll enjoy the hell out of them." He rasped a tongue over Prophet's nipple, then bit the nub again. "Fuck. — S.E. Jakes

Mountains are nature's testimonials of anguish. They are the sharp cry of a groaning and travailing creation. Nature's stern agony writes itself on these furrowed brows of gloomy stone. These reft and splintered crags stand, the dreary images of patient sorrow, existing verdureless and stern because exist they must. — Harriet Beecher Stowe

Rocket," I said, straightening in the chair. "Donovan was just helping me with my contacts."
Donovan raised his brows humorously.
Rocket furrowed his. "Did you swallow them? — Darynda Jones

Cas' eyes met mine over the crossbow, a forest on fire under furrowed brows. "This is your fault."
Well, thanks for the reminder, right before I'm about to die. — Isabelle Crusoe

You're no fun at all, you boys, you do nothing but worry. You need to think on the sunny side o' this. The worst that can happen is that Bethod don't show!'
'The worst?' Dogman stared at him. 'You sure? What about if Bethod does come, and his Carls kick your wall over like a pile o' turds and kill every last one of us?'
Crummock's brow furrowed. He frowned down at the ground. He squinted up at the clouds. 'True,' he said, breaking out in a smile. 'That is worse. You got a fast mind, lad.'
Dogman gave a long sigh, and stared down into the valley. — Joe Abercrombie

Ben shook his head.
Sitting down he asked, "So, you are Marty, right?"
He got an incredulous look in response along with a cautious, "Yeah."
"You look way different dressed like that and without any make up on and stuff. Like a pretty guy almost, no offense."
Marty widened her eyes incredulously. "Umm...I have a confession here I obviously need to make. We're in public, so don't you dare punch me, or try to jump me later. I got witnesses who'll be able to verify I was here with you and that you threatened me."
Ben's brows furrowed. "What? Why would I do that?"
"Hello, my name is Marty." Marty extended her hand across the table. "I'm a guy. — Leona Windwalker

Our love should have mended all the pain and the hurt. Instead, we're met with more complications, more consequences, more frowns and furrowed brows. — Krista Ritchie

It was strange: When you reduced even a fledgling love affair to its essentials
I loved her, she maybe loved me, I was foolish, I suffered
it became vacuous and trite, meaningless to anyone else. In the end, it's only the moments that we have, the kiss on the palm, the joint wonder at the furrowed texture of a fir trunk or at the infinitude of grains of sand in a dune. Only the moments. — Susan Vreeland

Making a big fat deal out of anything is absurd. It makes much more sense to go after life with a sense of, "Why not?" instead of a furrowed brow. One of the best things I ever did was make my motto "I just wanna see what I can get away with." It takes all the pressure off, puts the punk rock attitude in, and reminds me that life is but a game. — Jen Sincero

I married a cop."
"I told you not to."
Now he laughed, and kissed her again where her brow had furrowed. "And would I listen? I'm damn good at being married to a cop. — J.D. Robb

Calloused hands were the badge of the pioneer, while furrowed brows are the insignia of modern man. — Billy Graham

Hang you, DeVere! She's a close friend, nothing more." He furrowed his brow once again. "Though I do fear of late that she entertains some ... expectations."
"You think the young widow may aspire to quite another surrogate role? They all do, ol' chap. Expectations and demands - titles, money, time, attention. The female half of the species are little better than vampires, sucking away one's very lifeblood. — Victoria Vane

Your face was furrowed by the plow of grief, and blood flowed freely from Your thorn-crowned brow; such — Charles Haddon Spurgeon

Her efforts received encouragement. In fact, they were welcomed as the Tallises began to understand that the baby of the family possessed a strange mind and a facility with words. The long afternoons she spent browsing through the dictionary and thesaurus made for constructions that were inept, but hauntingly so: the coins a villain concealed in his pocket were 'esoteric,' a hoodlum caught stealing a car wept in 'shameless auto-exculpation,' the heroine on her thoroughbred stallion made a 'cursory' journey through the night, the king's furrowed brow was the 'hieroglyph' of his displeasure. — Ian McEwan

Old age. All the facial detail is visible; all the traces life has left there are to be seen. The face is furrowed, wrinkled, sagging, ravaged by time. But the eyes are bright and, if not young, then somehow transcend the time that otherwise marks the face. It is as though someone else is looking at us, from somewhere inside the face, where everything is different. One can hardly be closer to another human soul. — Karl Ove Knausgard

I looked at his intelligent forehead, furrowed with premature wrinkles, produced probably by misfortune and sorrow. I tried to learn the secret of his life from the last words that escaped his lips. — Jules Verne

Don't you dare laugh, you jerk-face! This is not funny. My wings are a freak of Nature!'
He lifted his hands. 'I'm not going to laugh, but I think you should leave the razors alone. Besides, lots of things have feathers in their wings.'
'Like what?' I demanded
'Like...like hawks' He answered
My brow furrowed. 'Hawks? HAWKS?'
'And eagles?'
"I'm not a bird, Roth!' Patience leaked out of me. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

I love you," Colt declared against Jace's lips.
"I love you, too." Jace made Colt smile.
"Thank you for taking me back." Colt
kissed the tip of Jace's nose.
"Thank you for finding me," Jace mumbled into the pillow on a deep yawn. "I need to sleep.Be here when I wake up."
"I'm here for as long as you want me. I promise I'll be here when you wake, Jace," he whispered and pressed a kiss to Jace's furrowed brow."Every day ... for the rest of our lives. — Kindle Alexander

Nerul passed Tashi a cup of hot kava. "I have given thought overnight to your travels and have some suggestions to make. The first is that you should take one of my people with you as a guide, at least for the part of the road that lies through Kandar. Melletin has volunteered. He says he owes you for the lesson you taught him on your first meeting."

Tashi furrowed her brow. "What lesson was that?"

Melletin grinned and touched his forehead. "To wear a helmet when attacking strangers. — Julia Golding

I am tired of the cult of youth. The cultural rejection of old age, the stigmatization of wrinkles, grey hair, of bodies furrowed by the years. I am fascinated by Diana Vreeland, Georgia O'Keeffe and Louise Bourgeois, women who have let time embrace them without ever cheating. Society today condemns this, me, I celebrate it. — Tom Ford

The way to beat Luke," he said. "If I'm right, it's the only way you'll stand a chance." I took a deep breath. "Okay. I'm listening." Nico glanced inside my room. His eyebrows furrowed. "Is that ... is that blue birthday cake?" He sounded hungry, maybe a little wistful. I wondered if the poor kid had ever had a birthday party, or if he'd ever even been invited to one. :Come inside for cake and ice cream," I said. "It sounds like we've got a lot to talk about. — Rick Riordan

I have missed you so much I could kiss you," he whispered.
September's face fell. "Oh, but Saturday! I've had my First Kiss and I didn't mean to, I didn't want to, but your shadow is very rude and impulsive, and he took it before I could say two words! And I've had my second and third and maybe fifth, too. Come to think of it, this has all involved rather a lot of kissing."
Saturday furrowed his brow. "Why should I care about your First Kiss?" he said. "You can kiss anyone you like. But if you sometimes wanted to kiss me, that would be all right, too." His blush was so deep September could feel the heat of it.
She leaned in, and kissed her Marid gently, sweetly. She tried to kiss him the way she'd always thought kisses would be. His lips tasted like the sea. — Catherynne M Valente

Overhead hung a summer sky furrowed with the rush of rockets; and from the east a late moon, pushing up beyond the lofty bend of the coast, sent across the bay a shaft of brightness which paled to ashes in the red glitter of the illuminated boats. — Edith Wharton

The face before him was like nothing he had ever seen before. It was smooth, with a black strip of cloth tied over its forehead, and yet it was deeply furrowed, like the sea, that can have tall waves but not a wrinkle on the surface. The eyes were like dark chasms and yet they were the eyes of a human being and not empty sockets. The skin was a greenish olive colour and looked as if it were made of bronze ... — Gustav Meyrink

Twenty-three," he said. "Mm?" She opened her dazed eyes. Thorne pulled back, looking guilty and worried, which made some of her euphoria fade away. "You once asked me how many times I'd told a girl I loved her. I've been trying to remember them all, and I'm pretty sure the answer is twenty-three." She blinked, a slow, fluttering stare. Her lips pursed in a question that took a while to form. "Including the Lunar girl who kissed you?" His brow furrowed. "Are we counting her?" "You said it, didn't you?" His gaze darted to the side. "Twenty-four." Cress gaped. Twenty-four girls. She didn't even know twenty-four people. — Marissa Meyer

How very odd, to be sure!' 'What is?' She walked on, her brow a little furrowed. 'Wishing to kiss someone you never saw before in your life. It seems quite mad-brained to me, besides showing a sad want of particularity. — Georgette Heyer

Steady there," he says. His brow is furrowed. His eyes are deep-set and sad. "You can ride with me. All you have to do is sit and hold on. Okay?"
Hallelujah nods. And then what he's saying actually sinks in. They'll be riding away from Jonah and Rachel. She can't do that. She can't. Her breath starts coming faster. "We have to go back," she says, her voice cracking. "I can't leave. I have to go get them. I promised." Breath in, out, in, out, in, out. "I promised!"
Charlie has her by both shoulders. "Hallelujah. Calm down. It's gonna be all right."
"We have to go back!" Hallelujah repeats, almost sobbing now. "Please! — Kathryn Holmes

Zane reached up to take Ty's wrist in a firm grip and pull his hand away, but he didn't let go. Ty was still, holding his breath as he waited. Slowly, Zane looked up at him. His dark eyes watered with pain and emotion. "We can still cut and run," he whispered. Ty's chest tightened, and his insides seemed to lurch with the words. He nodded as he let his fingers curl over, trying to touch the hand that still gripped his wrist. "We will. But I need revenge first," he said softly. Zane's brow furrowed as he loosened his fingers. "What for?" he asked quietly. "You," Ty answered simply. — Madeleine Urban

This is one of the most serious problems with seeker-sensitive churches. I was talking to a pastor at a seeker-friendly church not long ago about his idea that prospective Christians needed to "feel welcome" and "accepted" before anything else: no "threats," no "judgmental baggage." I asked, "If you had a person living in sin come to your church, would you confront him?" He furrowed his brow and shook his head disapprovingly. "Oh, no! We'd want him to feel loved and welcome." My eyes widened. "How long would it be before you would actually say something about that?" "Maybe a year and a half, two years," he said, smiling. "Because then he would really feel a part of things." That was shocking to me. Is there some virtue in leaving a man in his sin for the sake of feeling accepted? "Well, that's the difference between your church and our church," I said finally. "Openly practicing sinners come to our church, and they either get saved or they don't come back. — John F. MacArthur Jr.

His pink fingers found the shell around my neck, touched it softly. He lifted it and saw the scar. His brow furrowed.

He whispered, "Is your voice inside the shell?"

I smiled a little sadly.

"That's okay," he said. "We don't have to talk to be friends. — Sarah Ockler

My mom believed that you make your own luck. Over the stove she had hung these old, maroon painted letters that spell out, "MANIFEST." The idea being if you thought and dreamed about the way you wanted your life to be
if you just envisioned it long enough, it would come into being.
But as hard as I had manifested Astrid Heyman with her hand in mine, her blue eyes gazing into mine, her lips whispering something wild and funny and outrageous in my ear, she had remained totally unaware of my existence. Truly, to even dream of dreaming about Astrid, for a guy like me, in my relatively low position on the social ladder of Cheyenne Mountain High, was idiotic. And with her a senior and me a junior? Forget it.
Astrid was just lit up with beauty: shining blonde ringlets, June sky blue eyes, slightly furrowed brow, always biting back a smile, champion diver on the swim team. Olympic level.
Hell, Astrid was Olympic level in every possible way. — Emmy Laybourne