Get His Attention Quotes & Sayings
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A major part of his job was deciding when warnings could be ignored, when they could be dealt with at leisure - and when they had to be treated as real emergencies. If he paid equal attention to all the ship's cries for help, he would never get anything done. He — Arthur C. Clarke

You know, if you're going to take me aside when I'm behaving badly, I may start behaving worse. Just to get some attention from you." His eyes briefly catch the light and glow gray-green for a moment. "Possibly even some admiration. — Claire LaZebnik

I am always for getting a boy forward in his learning, for that is sure good. I would let him at first read any English book which happens to engage his attention; because you have done a great deal when you have brought him to have entertainment from a book. He'll get better books afterwards. — Samuel Johnson

He grinned, attention dropping to my mouth. "I guess I better get busy persuading, then." A soft kiss, then deeper. Then a growl. "Jesus, you smell like a cherry paczki."
That'd be my Chapstick, but who was I to break his little Polish heart? — Cara McKenna

Michael Phelps is a sporting god among men. It is hard to say if anyone will ever match his accomplishments, but it has been an honor to see him become a legend. He makes me proud of the American sports institution and proud of the sports that get mass attention only every four years. — Johnny Weir

Peter sighed into the water, and his breath sent a small circle of it into tiny ripples. "It seems cowardly, getting old. Don't you think?"
She rolled onto her side to look at him, pillowing her ear with her right arm, and letting her fingers dangle in the water beyond her head. "How is it cowardly?"
Peter kept his eyes on his reflection. "You just curl up around yourself, and sit by the fire, and try to be comfortable. When you get old, you just get smaller inside, and you try not to pay attention to anything but your blankets and your food and your bed."
"Being comfortable is not a bad thing."
Peter shrugged and turned his head to look at her as if it was a matter of fact. "Of course it is. Old people lock out all the scary, wild things. It's like they don't exist."
She wanted to say that she would have liked for those things not to exist, either, but she held her tongue, because she didn't want to sound like a coward. — Jodi Lynn Anderson

Matthias," she murmured in Fjerdan, giving his arm what she hoped was a friendly, siblinglike nudge, "must you glower at everything?"
"I'm not glowering."
"We're Fjerdans in the Ravkan sector. We already stand out. Let's not give everyone another reason to think you're about to lay siege to the market. We need to get this task done without drawing unwanted attention. Think of yourself as a spy."
His frown deepened. "Such work is beneath an honest soldier."
"Then pretend to be an actor." He made a disgusted sound.
"Have you ever even been to the theater?"
"There are plays every season in Djerholm."
"Let me guess, sober affairs that last several hours and tell epic tales of the heroes of yore."
"They're actually very entertaining. But I've never seen an actor who knows how to properly hold his sword. — Leigh Bardugo

trailed off as her attention moved from Will taking his juice from the bartender to the glass behind the bartender. There were red dots on the glass. Alessandro brushed her shoulder again and Bree followed a row of red dots from the glass mirror to the wall. Some of the red dots danced over the guests and as an icy cloak of understanding fell over Bree, it seemed to grip Alessandro as well. Then she turned to face him and there were red dots on his chest, as well as her shoulder, which he had been brushing, thinking it was a speck of dust. "GET DOWN!" he screamed to everyone grabbing Bree by the waist and throwing her down while and trying to be heard over the music. Chaos erupted as gunfire drowned out the sound of music and people fell screaming on top of each other as pieces of the wall and glass from the doors and the mirrors rained down on them. The gunfire raged on and on for what seemed like an eternity. Then there was silence. — E. Jamie

did not then foresee how closely my godson's life and mine were in after years to be bound up together; if I had, I should doubtless have looked upon him with different eyes and noted much to which I paid no attention at the time. As it was, I was glad to get away from him, for I could do nothing for him, or chose to say that I could not, and the sight of so much suffering was painful to me. A man should not only have his own way as far as possible, but he should only consort with things that are getting their own way so far that they are at any rate comfortable. Unless — Samuel Butler

Anyway," Ivy drawls, her smile still in place. "When Leo was born I thought it better to have a family car."
"And I told her it would be over my left nut that we'd get a minivan." Gray makes a face.
Ivy pats his knee. "And because I like his nuts - "
"Aaand we're done," Fi cuts in. Thank God. The word "nuts" calls attention to my own. They're aching now. — Kristen Callihan

Ren crossed his arms over his chest. "is it LoJacked?"
"Of course," Andy said indignantly. "That's my baby. I even have a kill switch on her."
"Then stop the engine."
Andy appeared downright horrified by Ren's suggestion. "Are you out of your mind? What if someone hits it for stalling? I had that thing on order for over a year. Custom hand built. The epitome of German engineering. I even paid extra for the paint on her. Ain't no way I'm going to chance someone denting my baby. Or, God forbid, totaling it."
Jess rolled his eyes at the boy's hissy fit. If he kept that up, he'd be putting Andy back in diapers.
He turned to Ren. "You take the air. I'll get a bike." Then he focused his attention on Andy again. "And you-"
Andy held his cell phone out to him. "Have an app. Track her down, get my car back, and beat the hell out of her ... in that precise order. — Sherrilyn Kenyon

Think about it. We are fed in the Eucharist, by our mothers when we are infants, by our parents as children, by friends at dinner parties, by a lover when we feast on one another's bodies ... and on occasion, on one another's souls. Don't you want me to feed you? You don't want to feast on my body, but at least feast on my cake.
Gabriel chuckled. When Julia didn't answer, he turned his full attention to his dessert. She scowled. If he thought this disgusting display of food porn was going to get her attention and maybe make her a little hot and bothered until she was putty in his hands ...
... he was right. — Sylvain Reynard

Michael had taken over the Apollo cabin after Lee Fletcher died in battle last summer. Michael stood four-foot-six with another two feet of attitude. He reminded me of a ferret, with a pointy nose and scrunched-up features - either because he scowled so much or because he spent too much time looking down the shaft of an arrow. "It's our loot!" he yelled, standing on his tiptoes so he could get in Clarisse's face. "If you don't like it, you can kiss my quiver!" Around the table, people were trying not to laugh - the Stoll brothers, Pollux from the Dionysus cabin, Katie Gardner from Demeter. Even Jake Mason, the hastily appointed new counselor from Hephaestus, managed a faint smile. Only Silena Beauregard didn't pay any attention. — Rick Riordan

Johnson released a harsh breath. "Well. Guess I'll go on home and see if a ball game is on. See ya." Johnson turned to leave. "The Braves are on tonight," Ronowski called out to Johnson's back. God had to close his mouth, gaping open in surprise. Johnson turned and wasted no time asking the blond beauty if he wanted to watch the game with him. Ronowski flushed when all their attention was focused on him. "Uhm. Sure. I just need to get my stuff. I'll be r-right back," he stammered and walked quickly toward the precinct. God saw Johnson watch Ronowski's ass move as he walked; not taking his eyes off him until he was inside the building. Johnson turned back toward him and waggled his eyebrows. "Well my night is looking brighter." God — A.E. Via

Trick." I say a little louder.
"Shhh, sleep baby." He mumbles. I laugh and smack his arm.
"Wake up. I can feel your morning wood." This gets his attention and he sits up, taking me with him. The arms wrapped around my middle graze my breasts as he shifts up and a tingle shoots straight between my legs.
"God, Caroline, I'm so ... " He stops, probably realizing that he doesn't have morning wood, "I don't have ... " He's actually pretty cute all sleepy. He laughs.
"I know but I couldn't figure out how else to get your attention." I shrug. — K. Larsen

I knew Secrets and Lies was a great film, but I didn't expect it to get the attention it did because none of his other films had and I thought they were just as good. — Brenda Blethyn

Don't put people, or anything else, on pedestals, not even your children. Avoid global labels such as genius or weirdo. Realize those closest get the benefit of the doubt and so do the most beautiful and radiant among us. Know the halo effect causes you to see a nice person as temporarily angry and an angry person as temporarily nice. Know that one good quality, or a memory of several, can keep in your life people who may be doing you more harm than good. Pay attention to the fact that when someone seems nice and upbeat, the words coming out of his or her mouth will change in meaning, and if that same person were depressive, arrogant, or foul in some other way, your perceptions of those same exact words would change along with the person's other features. — David McRaney

I wont take no for an answer. I will use this to bind you to my bed until you change your mind if you dont answer the way I want you to. Will you marry me?"
She grinned. "I dont know." Her attention fixed on the tie for a few seconds before she met his gaze again. "I might be tempted to say no just to get you to tie me to your bed. — Laurann Dohner

I learned something about you today."
That wins his full attention. He draws me into the fathomless depths of his eyes. "What would that be?"
"Every time you try to do the right thing, you get screwed."
My observation is met with silence. He scoops up my other necklace, closing the key, heart, and ring within his fist.
I take a shallow breath, heartbeat stumbling as I try to read him.
"So it's a battle to make that choice, yeah?"
-Unhinged, pg 351-2 — A.G. Howard

His father shook him roughly to get his attention. "Listen to me, boy. I need you to take care of your sisters. You hear me?" Even though he was the youngest of the Dagan children and only eight years old, it was something his dad always said to him. "Yeah, I know." "No, Cai, you don't. You're too young to comprehend what I'm trying to tell you, but you have to try." There was a sadness in his father's eyes that scared him. A resignation that had never been there before and it made him want to cry. But Dagans didn't cry and he wasn't about to let his dad see him act like one of his sisters. His father cupped his face in his calloused palm. "It'll be years before you understand what's happening - if even then. But I need you to listen to me and trust me. I won't be here to protect you anymore." Caillen — Sherrilyn Kenyon

What the hell do I have to do to get your attention? Do I need to get up there?" I throw an arm toward the stage. His eyes swell for just a second, in shock. He reaches forward to hold my hands, but he catches himself in time and instead folds them across his chest. "Believe me, you have my full attention. — K.A. Tucker

She glanced again at Caliban as she said, "You and Daffodil were very brave." "And the best part, Mama," Indio said, tugging her hand to get her attention, "the best part is Caliban spoke. Did you hear him? He shouted my name!" "What?" Lily stared at Indio's filthy little face and then back up at Caliban. She absently noted that he had a bleeding scratch on his cheek. That shout right before the accident - had that been him? — Elizabeth Hoyt

Being lately engaged to plead a cause before the Court of the Hundred, the crowd was so great that I could not get to my place without crossing the tribunal where the judges sat. And I have this pleasing circumstance to add further, that a young nobleman, having had his tunic torn, an ordinary occurrence in a crowd, stood with his gown thrown over him, to hear me, and that during the seven hours I was speaking, whilst my success more than counterbalanced the fatigue of so long a speech. So let us set to and not screen our own indolence under pretence of that of the public. Never, be very sure of that, will there be wanting hearers and readers, so long as we can only supply them with speakers and writers worth their attention. — Pliny The Younger

I look at the others seated around the campfire. Mr. and Mrs. Matsunaga are diligently reviewing the day's photos on his camera. Vivian and Sylvia lounge in their low-cut tank tops, oozing pheromones that make poor, awkward Elliot grovel for attention as usual. Are you gals chilly? Can I get your sweaters? — Tess Gerritsen

Because who knows? Who knows anything? Who knows who's pulling the strings? Or what is? Or how? Who knows if destiny is just how you tell yourself the story of your life? Another son might not have heard his mother's last words as a prophecy but as drug-induced gibberish, forgotten soon after. Another girl might not have told herself a love story about a drawing her brother made. Who knows if Grandma really thought the first daffodils of spring were lucky or if she just wanted to go on walks with me through the woods? Who knows if she even believed in her bible at all or if she just preferred a world where hope and creativity and faith trump reason? who knows if there are ghosts (sorry, Grandma) or just the living, breathing memories of your loved ones, inside you, speaking to you, trying to get your attention by any means necessary? Who knows where the hell Ralph is? (Sorry, Oscar.) No one knows.
SO we grapple with the mysteries, each in our own way. — Jandy Nelson

The most important tool ultimately is the person and his or her makeup, and yet it seems to get the least amount of attention and work. — Henry Cloud

Blacksmiths sometimes twist a rope tight around the nose of a horse, and by thus inflicting a little pain they distract his attention from the shoeing process. One way to get air out of a
glass is to pour in water. Be Absorbed by Your Subject — Dale Carnegie

A fair-skinned man with a cherub face, he had taken quite some time to grow it, and taking good care of his beard was Priority Number One. Well, maybe Priority Number Fourteen; he had lost his list somewhere on the Awesome (and he rarely paid attention to it, anyway). Maybe he could get "them" to bring him a trimmer and a mirror, whoever "they" were. By god, he hated putting pronouns in imaginary quotes. The — Joe Zieja

I grab his hand and head for the tunnel, keeping my shoulders back and my head up, because skulking toward the nearest exit like Shaggy and Scooby tinkle-toeing is sure to draw attention. I even bark at some kids to get out of the way. If someone tries to stop us, I won't shoot them. I'll explain that the kid is sick and I'm getting him to a doctor before he pukes all over himself and everybody else. If they don't buy my story, then I shoot them. — Rick Yancey

A long time ago, Trinity and I made a list of types of guys you should never date. We add to it every now and then. It includes things like never date a guy whose computer costs more than his car (you'll never get him to pay attention to you except over instant messages), never date a guy who has a pet lizard (he's probably into weird stuff in bed) and never under any circumstances go on a second date with a guy who says the word "married" on the first date (he'll turn out to be a mama's boy or a religious type) — Adam Selzer

We should do that," he whispered. "Wear flowers in our hair?" I was watching the ceremony and not really paying attention to Luka, despite the warmth of his arm. Tobin's eldest brother, the head of the household since their father's death some years ago, had come forward. Skarpin had surprised us by being as garrulous and emotional as Tobin and Ulfrid were silent and controlled. His red beard was a sharp contrast to his shaved head, and he had six earrings in each ear, a sign that he was a wealthy landowner. He took the loaf of bread from the priest and began the traditional praising of the bride's skills. "No," Luka said. "We should get married." Now I gave him my full attention. "What? — Jessica Day George

As she slipped back into the house, Travis mumbled, "It's about time." Everett Hayes had the gall to wink at him. "Better get used to it, Archer. Things are never the same after you install a woman in your house." "That is true," the parson said as he pushed up out of his chair, his expression slightly censorious as he glanced at Everett. "But if the Lord is installed, as well, the changes can bring blessing to a man." He shifted his attention and peered at Travis. "Marriage is a sacred union, son, and not something to dread. As Ecclesiastes says, 'Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their labor. . . . A threefold cord is not quickly broken.' Keep God woven into your relationship and this union will make you stronger. But if you treat it as a burden, it will become one. — Karen Witemeyer

I need something dramatic.I thought we would start with something theatrical, something that will make an impact on the city,something to focus their attention."
Nereus considered for a moment and then he smiled, revealing his hideous teeth. "I do have the Lotan."
Machiavelli and Billy looked at him blankly.
"The Lotan," Nereus said.
The two immortals shook their heads. "I have no idea what that is," Machiavelli admitted.
"Doesn't sound scary to me," Billy said.
"It's a seven-headed sea dragon."
Machiavelli nodded. "That might work."
"It'll certainly get their attention," Billy muttered. — Michael Scott

Dad!" I said, trying to get his attention. "It is so official you are a bad father. Good fathers do not shoot their daughters!"
I crossed my arms and brought out the big guns. "I am so telling Mom when I die. — Darynda Jones

Andrew Carnegie, the poverty-stricken Scotch lad who started to work at two cents an hour and finally gave away $365 million, learned early in life that the only way to influence people is to talk in terms of what the other person wants. He attended school only four years; yet he learned how to handle people. To illustrate: His sister-in-law was worried sick over her two boys. They were at Yale, and they were so busy with their own affairs that they neglected to write home and paid no attention whatever to their mother's frantic letters. Then Carnegie offered to wager a hundred dollars that he could get an answer by return mail, without even asking for it. Someone called his bet; so he wrote his nephews a chatty letter, mentioning casually in a postscript that he was sending each one a five-dollar bill. He neglected, however, to enclose the money. Back came replies by return mail thanking "Dear Uncle Andrew" for his kind note and - you can finish the sentence yourself. — Dale Carnegie

Give us privacy," James told him, his voice sharp. The man beat a hasty retreat. James shut and locked the door behind him. Handy that, a lock. He started loosening his tie. When it was untied, he hooked a finger into the hoop at my neck. He pushed my back to the wall. Or rather, the door. He reached above my head and I looked up. There was a coat hanger above me, hooked over the top of the tall door. James was tying his tie to it with swift, sure motions. He pulled my arms up and together, wrapping the tie around them, tying more swift knots around my wrists. This took longer, and I watched those skillful hands with rapt attention. "This is going to get loud, Bianca. I'm going to fuck you so hard that you scream my name. And you are going to scream so loudly that nobody will doubt just why you're screaming. Would you like to tell me what you and Roger were talking about before I'm inside of you? Or will this be a mid-fuck confession? — R.K. Lilley

The boat lurched.He fell against her, and she fell back, onto the divan.
For onwe glorious moment she lay under him, her magnificent bosom crushed against his chest. His heart leapt into a gallop and his privy councilor leapt to attention. He lifted his head and looked down at her. She looked up at him, eyes wide and dark as an evergreen forest. He felt her breath on his skin, and heard it, soft and hurried. Her lips parted. He lowered his head.
She shoved a fist against his chest, and "Get off!" she snapped. "Get off, you great lummox! Someone's coming! — Loretta Chase

He leaned in even closer until she could count the bristles on his poorly shaven chin. "But you're pretty. You can stay. Turn around and spread your legs so I can fuck you up against the wire. I'll get my cock in you so deep it'll need a directory to find its way out."
"That sounds ... dangerous."
"I am," he rumbled sexily, like a waterfall that's had a dam collapse upstream and is about to flood and destroy the village of peasants further downstream ... many of whom are poor and in desperate need of medical attention. — Cari Silverwood

As she began rattling off a number of multi-syllabic Latin-derived medical terms, he had to rearrange himself in his leathers. Something about her getting all professional made him want to get all up in her. Probably had to do with the bonding thing - he wanted to mark this spectacular person as his, so the whole world knew they needed to back the fuck off. Jane was the only female who had ever gotten his attention and held it. And yeah, if he had to wax psychological on the situation, it was probably because her single-minded passion for her job, shit, her relentless commitment to excellence, made him feel a little like he was always chasing her just to keep up. On so many levels he was a typical predator: The chase was more electric than the capture and consumption. And with Jane, there was always something to pursue. "Hello? V?" When their eyes met, he frowned. "Sorry. Distracted. — J.R. Ward

Jenna walked in between desks and plonked herself down behind hers, noticing AGAIN that the teacher hadn't graced the class with his zitty presence. She thought Mr. Kennan needed to get fired, which said a lot, because she rarely paid attention to ugly teachers. She'd discussed this with the principal two weeks back when she'd been sent to his office after getting caught sleeping. She'd told him that if he employed more hot teachers like Mr. Daniels then maybe she wouldn't pass out from boredom. The principal gave her a week's detention because of that comment, saying that she needed to take things more seriously. But she WAS being serious.
Jenna Hamilton from Graffiti Heaven (Chapter 28). — Marita A. Hansen

He exudes virility, evokes desire, and commands attention all with a single look from his stunning eyes. He's edgy and reckless and you want to go along for the ride hoping to get a glimpse of his tender side that breaks through every now and again. The bad boy with a touch of vulnerability who leaves you breathless and steals your heart. — K. Bromberg

Iain took hold of both her hands and squeezed to get her attention. Then he took a deep breath. Even with his men watching, he wanted the words to be right, his declaration to be one she would always remember. It was a damned awkward undertaking, trying to think of loving words, and he had absolutely no experience in this area, but he was still determined not to muck it up. The moment needed to be perfect for her. "Judith," he began. "Yes, Iain?" "I'm keeping you. — Julie Garwood

God's arrows of affliction are sharp and painful so He can get our attention. He won't let His beloved children get away with sin because He knows it robs us of blessings, opportunities, and even character refinement. — Charles Stanley

So, what...in the meantime, you just..." He glanced at her then back at the road. "Deny yourself?"
Em gave a half smile at the incredulity in his voice. Clearly it was a foreign concept to him. "It's okay. I have a battery operated boyfriend awaiting my attention when I get home."
He shot her a quick, open-mouthed stare, his lips parted enticingly. He looked so stunned at her admission she couldn't help but laugh.
"Sorry, didn't you know that women did that, too? Did I shock you?"
"Not at all." He recovered quickly, a big smile splitting his profile. "I'm just trying to decide which is sexier. Self-denial or self-abuse. — Amy Andrews

There's a vorg loose," Meroka explained. "In case that escaped your attention. Ricasso's doing his bit for Swarm, trying to kill the thing before it sucks someone's brains out. Now he might be able to find time in his schedule to file that paperwork you need, but I'm guessing it's going to be a stretch, what with a monster on the loose and the ship being in a state of fucking emergency and all." She smiled sweetly. "So, what's it going to be? You going to let them out, or do I have to get, you know, truculent. — Alastair Reynolds

Cyril had staked out his claim and refused to move. "Move over!" I said, freeing one hand from holding the cat to push. "Dogs are supposed to sleep at the foot of the bed." Cyril had never heard of this rule. He jammed his body up against my back and began to snore. I tugged at the rugs, trying to get enough to cover me, and turned on my side, the cat cradled in my arms. Princess Arjumand paid no attention to the regulations of animals on the bed either. She promptly wriggled free and walked round the bed, treading on Cyril, who responded with a faint "oof," and kneading her claws in my leg. Cyril shoved and shoved again until he had the entire bed and all the covers, and Princess Arjumand draped herself across my neck with her full weight on my Adam's apple. Cyril shoved some more. An hour into this little drama it began to rain in earnest, and everyone moved in under the covers and began jockeying for position again. — Connie Willis

We should, I believe, beware of the pitfalls described by Taine: 'Imagine a man who sets out on a voyage equipped with a pair of spectacles that magnify things to an extraordinary degree. A hair on his hand, a spot on the tablecloth, the shifting fold of a coat, all will attract his attention; at this rate, he will not go far, he will spend his day taking six steps and will never get out of his room.' We have to get out of this room. — Robert Kennedy

I should have left yesterday before I found out how hot you run. But I didn't. And now I'm fucked." One hand dropped from the wall to grip the side of her hip, squeezing and releasing. "That exquisite body of yours needs a lot of care and attention. I didn't even get a chance to use my tongue on you. I hate not knowing how you taste."
Her head dropped back against the door. When his hand slipped under her dress to run up the outside of her thigh, a moan escaped her lips. Unconsciously, she thrust her breasts upward, in the direction of his mouth.
"Yes, I see them, baby. I'd taste you there, too." Slowly, his hand slid around toward the juncture between her thighs. "You came so quickly for me yesterday, like something out of a fantasy. Were you neglected here?" He ran a knuckle along the seam of her panties. "I know how to make it better. — Tessa Bailey

takes. We get off track when we make our walks with Christ about how we are walking versus how God is leading. We need to pay attention to His Spirit to be led by Him on a daily basis. If we are distracted by the things of this life or our weariness and afflictions, we can get off course. When we suffer trials, we can become distracted by the circumstances and wallow in fear or sorrow. But if we refocus on the Lord, He comforts us and gives us a reason for rejoicing again during our trial. — Adam Houge

Working with Your Budding Adolescent: 16 to 24 Weeks
When you and your puppy reach the budding adolescent stage, you may feel like hiding in the closet. Some days are livable. However, other days you feel like moving. Your puppy doesn't listen or respond to known directions. He bolts, chases, and nips at everything that moves. He demands your attention and barks or mounts you when he doesn't get his way. He insists on being the center of attention every moment of every day.
Keep in mind that this stage is normal. I managed to live through it, and you will too. — Sarah Hodgson

Oh, and they said I have ADD, too." He lit a cigarette, his first of the day, and took a long, grateful drag. "But listen mate, I once sucked a geezer for twenty minutes to get him off. The clock was just over his shoulder and I timed it. Attention deficit?" He blew out a plume of smoke. "I don't think so. — S.A. Reid

I understand."
"It's too hard to be around you when I - "
"I get it, Amanda," he interrupted. He still wasn't looking at her and the hand closest to her was clenched into a fist.
She moved closer to the bed. "I wasn't done. What I was going to say is that it's too hard to be around you when I constantly want to kiss you and tell you that I'm in love with you."
That got his attention. He whipped his head around to stare at her. "What the hell did you just say?"
"I said I love you. And even though we have yet to have a whole night together, I want a lot more than that. — Erin Nicholas

Our marriage ended because I couldn't make him see me or hear me or do anything I wanted or needed. I could only be as selfish and mean as he was to get his attention. And that was ruinous. — Susan Rieger

Oh, crap.
The last person she wanted to run into this morning when she had to be super-professional was Hot Pool Guy. Before she had a chance to hide behind a plant or something, his gaze connected with hers and held her hostage.
He flashed a smile and headed her way. Shit. She got to her feet thinking she'd say a quick hello before telling him she was meeting someone and excuse herself. Look away from those amazing dark eyes before you get yourself in trouble. She forced her attention down.
And found a logo on the breast pocket of his white polo shirt.
Word.
Heritage.
Fund.
Kill her now. — Robin Bielman

Clean," Peter said.
"Can I get a water bottle or something to clean his hands?" I scanned the crowd. He drew my attention back to him with a pull of my hand.
"No," Peter said. "I'm ... clean."
I had missed who Peter was until that very moment ...
I broke. It wasn't a visible fracture. I didn't sob or explode into anguish. I didn't give in to my vomitus urge that came from the burst of self-loathing. But I shattered nonetheless.
"Well, you look filthy," I said, hitting redial on his phone and jamming it to my ear. — Dani Alexander

We've already seen the attention merchant's basic modus operandi: draw attention with apparently free stuff and then resell it. but a consequence of that model is a total dependence on gaining and holding attention. This means that under competition, the race will naturally run to the bottom; attention will almost invariably gravitate to the more garish, lurid, outrageous alternative, whatever stimulus may more likely engage what cognitive scientists call our 'automatic' attention as opposed to our 'controlled' attention, the kind we direct with intent. The race to a bottomless bottom, appealing to what one might call the audience's baser instincts, poses a fundamental, continual dilemma for the attention merchant-just how far will he go to get his harvest? If the history of attention capture teaches us anything, it is that the limits are often theoretical, and when real, rarely self-imposed. — Tim Wu

Female say Pack Leader stop," Pack Leader said angrily.
"What?" Caine could make no sense of it till he saw Diana striding up, dark hair flying, eyes furious.
"I told this filthy beast to stop," Diana said, barely controlled.
"Stop what?" Caine demanded.
"They're still attacking the kids," Diana said. "We've won. Sam is dead. Call them off, Caine."
Caine turned his attention back to the battle between Drake and the monster. "They're coyotes," Caine said coldly.
Diana flew at him. "You've lost your mind, Caine. This has to stop. You've won. This has to stop."
"Or what, Diana? Or what?" Caine demanded. "Go get Lana. I'm hurt. Pack Leader, do what you want."
"Maybe this is why your mother abandoned you," Diana said savagely. "Maybe she could see that you weren't just bad, you were twisted and sick and evil. — Michael Grant

In actuality Boaz respected and recognized Ruth's character first. As a result he held her in high regard. You can instantly catch a man's attention, but if you don't have his respect you won't get the relationship you deserve. — Stephan Labossiere

He spent two years running a hospital for Chai." Molly put her arm around the younger woman. "Which was the equivalent of working the ER in a city like New York or Chicago. He saved a lot of lives." She made sure Max was paying attention, too. "And before you say, 'Yeah, of drug runners, killers, and thieves,' you should also know that his patients were just regular people who worked for Chai because he was the only steady employer in the area. Or because they knew they'd end up in some mass grave if they refused his offer of employment. Before Grady came in, if they were injured in some battle with a rival gang, they were just left for dead."
Jones looked up to find Max watching him as he sterilized a particularly sharp knife. "Me and Jesus," he said. "So much alike, people often get us confused. — Suzanne Brockmann

The god touched me once, Beka. I'd soon not get his attention again. — Tamora Pierce

When I get on a plane, I don't want a laid-back pilot. I want a pilot who is a control freak, who is paying attention to every single detail of his job. — Michael Ovitz

Lewis - "Why did you hit Brian over the head with the cricket bat?"
Bev - "Because I love him, there was no other way to get his attention. — Louis Nowra

Once you know a habit exists, you have the responsibility to change it ... others have done so ... That, in some ways, is the point of this book. Perhaps a sleep-walking murderer can plausibly argue that he wasn't aware of his habit, and so he doesn't bear responsibility for his crime, but almost all of the other patterns that exist in most people's lives - how we eat and sleep and talk to our kids, how we unthinkingly spend our time, attention and money - those are habits that we know exist. And once you understand that habits can change, you have the freedom and the responsibility to remake them. Once you understand that habits can be rebuilt, the power of habit becomes easier to grasp and the only option left is to get to work. — Charles Duhigg

If you wanted to greet him or get his attention, you had to say: "Oh, Mr. Forest-Ranger-who-stands-in-the-tower-watching-out-for-forest fires!" If you abbreviated it, or, heaven help us, addressed him simply as "David," you would get no response. — Katherine Paterson

How are you going to get in?" Stokes asked anxiously.
"I shall try the windows first, I think," Radcliffe said with a frown as he straightened out his skirts. "I fear using the front door would be too much of a risk."
"Aye," Stokes said, then, "My lord, you ... er ... your purpose may be better served did you try to ... er ... keep your face turned away from anyone you encounter."
"Aye," Elizabeth agreed encouragingly. "And mayhap if you tried not to look quite so tall, you might be able to avoid some unwanted attention."
"And if anyone does approach and question you, you might merely cover your face with a handkerchief and titer."
Radcliffe blinked at that suggestion from Bessie. "I do not have a handkerchief."
"Oh!" Whipping one from her sleeve, Beth handed it to him as he got out of the carriage. "Good luck, my lord. I know you will save her. — Lynsay Sands

He could focus my attention on how perfectly sublime life can be at times. Such moments are ephemeral, and without his guidance I might have missed many of them, working so hard to get somewhere that I would fail to recognize when I had arrived. — Kevin Hearne

The second admission my young adult friends made is that they know their obsession is distracting them from God. Again, let me ask you to be honest. Do you think more about what God says in his Word or what people say on your feed? How much time do you think about God versus what to say online? Work hard to tell the truth. No matter how tempting it is to ignore him, if God is trying to get your attention, don't shake him off. — Craig Groeschel

The Procrastinator has the opposite problem. He can't selectively focus his attention and might endure frequent accusations about his laziness. In truth, he's so distracted by stimuli that he can't figure out where or how to get started. Sounds, smells, sights and the random wanderings of his thoughts continually vie for his attention. — Kate Kelly

Need I remind you that this Selection was your idea?"
She sighed.
"Listen to your daughter," Dad said. "Very smart girl. Gets it from me."
"Don't you want some more sleep?" she asked flatly.
"No, I'm feeling very refreshed," he said. I wasn't sure if it was because he wanted to continue the conversation or if he felt he needed to keep his attention on Mom. Either way, he was clearly lying.
"Dad, you look like death punched you in the face."
"You must get that from me, too."
"Dad! — Kiera Cass

I look up into his green eyes and wisely note that he's not in a fucking about mood. I want to bring to his attention that I'm not happy about his evasion of my enquiry, but I know it will get me entirely nowhere right now. Besides, I'm absolutely delighted to see my domineering man back. It's been too long. — Jodi Ellen Malpas

Is it like a Harry Potter thing?"
He turned his head then. "A what?"
"A Harry Potter thing," she said again. "You know, don't say Voldemort's name because you might attract his attention?"
He considered it. "You mean the children's book."
"I have got to get you to watch more movies," she said. "You'd enjoy these. Yes, I mean the children's book. — Patricia Briggs

The way to get a man interested and to hold his interest was to talk about himself, and then gradually lead the conversation around yourself - and keep it there. — Margaret Mitchell

Aw, angel," he said, shaking his head as he looked around. "I get you now."
He got me? What the heck was that supposed to mean? "What?"
"You know, my grandmother is a big gardener," he said, tucking the flat of cat food under one arm and running his hand over the back of my sofa.
"That's wonderful. Now get out of my apartment."
"She's won awards 'round here for her roses," he went on his weird speech. His attention suddenly turned back toward me, pinning me into place. "She used to tell me that the prettiest roses have the biggest thorns. It's a defense mechanism. So," he said, coming closer toward me and running his finger across the side of my jaw, "I get you, Amelia Alvarado. — Jessica Gadziala

More and more, for the stupid little kid, that was the idea . . .
That if enough people looked at you, you'd never need anybody's attention ever again.
That if someday you were caught, exposed, and revealed enough, then you'd never be able to hide again. There'd be no difference between your public and your private lives.
That if you could acquire enough, accomplish enough, you'd never want to own or do another thing.
That if you could eat or sleep enough, you'd never need more.
That if enough people loved you, you'd stop needing love.
That you could ever be smart enough.
That you could someday get enough sex.
These all became the little boy's new goals. The illusions he'd have for the rest of his life. These were all the promises he saw in the fat man's smile — Chuck Palahniuk

She banged her knuckles until they ached to get the attention of the living flesh behind the glass, and would have smashed her fist through the window just to touch him, feel his heat, the only thing that could protect her from a smothering death of dry roses. — Toni Morrison

Dirk was unused to making quite such a miniscule impact on anybody. He checked to be sure that he did have his huge leather coat and his absurd red hat on and that he was properly and dramatically silhouetted by the light on the doorway.
He felt momentarily deflated and said, "Er ... " by was of self-introduction, but it didn't get the boy's attention. He didn't like this. The kid was deliberately and maliciously watching television at him. — Douglas Adams

You need not expect to get your book right the first time. Go to work and revamp or rewrite it. God only exhibits his thunder and lightning at intervals, and so they always command attention. These are God's adjectives. You thunder and lightning too much; the reader ceases to get under the bed, by and by. — Mark Twain

You're both perfectly all right," she informed them. "And we will get Aurimere back, and our magic back, and our town back, and then we will have everything we need."
"We have some important stuff already," Ash offered tentatively.
Lillian frowned. "What do you mean?"
Jared surrendered himself to the strangeness of this situation, sank back onto the pillows himself with his head near Lillian's hip, and sighed heavily to attract his aunt's attention. "He wants to know you love him more than that stupid house."
"It is a very nice house," Aunt Lillian said, sounding offended. "Your ancestors are buried in the crypt of that house."
"Sure. Okay. We'll get our lovely creepy house back. When they bury me in that crypt, I want 'Jared, very inbred, deeply uncomfortable about it' on my tombstone. — Sarah Rees Brennan

You obey not to get God's attention, but because you have been the object of his attention since before the world began. — Paul David Tripp

Shouldn't someone give a pep talk," Minho asked, pulling Thomas's attention away from Alby.
"Go ahead," Newt replied.
Minho nodded and faced the crowd. "Be careful," he said dryly, "Don't die."
Thomas would have laughed if he could, but he was too scared for it to come out.
"Great. We're all bloody inspired," Newt answered then pointed over his shoulder toward the Maze, "You all know the plan. After two years of being treated like mice, tonight we're making a stand. Tonight we're taking the fight back to the Creators, no matter what we have to go through to get there. Tonight the Grievers better be scared. — James Dashner

How should we manage our mind, which is inherently just like the open sky? It's actually very simple. Let it do as it wishes, just as you would let go of a naughty child struggling to get free from your arms. As long as you know you can keep your eye on him at all times, you certainly shouldn't try to tie him up or confine him. You also shouldn't try to get his attention with candy, biscuits, or toys because, as with all naughty children, it's only natural that he will eventually return to his mother's embrace. When mother and child are united, that is similar to when your mind has returned again to its proper place. — Shang Rinpoche

Lance told me his father didn't think much of him. "He wishes I was better. More better. At everything. I don't do anything right, you know, Stevie. Nothing." He said this matter-of-factly. He believed it as truth. Polly told me her father never said anything nice to her, but she kept trying as hard as she could to make him pay her some attention. "He always says, 'Don't get fat as your mother has,' but I don't think Mom's fat at all, but I try not to eat much, but he keeps saying it to me. Do you think I'm fat, Stevie? When my hair is messy do you think I look like a stray... — Cathy Lamb

Babe, best wool men ever pulled was lettin' women think we think with our dicks. We pay a fuckuva lot of attention. We know your shit maybe more than you do because we live it right along with you and some of you try to make us eat it. It's just that some of us choose not to get sucked in the drama and instead focus on getting laid regularly."
I felt my eyes get big right before I wrapped my arms around him and started giggling, but I managed to push through my giggles, "Honey, not sure you should share the brotherhood's secrets."
"You talk, no woman will listen. They prefer to think a man's brain is in his dick. Gives 'em something to bitch about. — Kristen Ashley

I love God, whoever he is, and I'd really like to get closer to him. I've been thinking about how one of the simplest ways to get close to a woman is to be good to her children. To be kind and gentle and to pay close attention to the things that make them special. To try to see her children the way she sees her children. And how God made us in his image. How he is the mother and father of all of us. So I wonder if that would be the best way to get closer to him too. By being kind and gentle to his children and noticing all of the things that make them special. So many of us spend our time trying to find God in books, but maybe the simplest way to God is directly through the hearts of his children. — Glennon Doyle Melton

The people of Lancre wouldn't dream of living in anything other than a monarchy. They'd done so for thousands of years and knew that it worked. But they'd also found that it didn't do to pay too much attention to what the King wanted, because there was bound to be another king along in forty years or so and he'd be certain to want something different and so they'd have gone to all that trouble for nothing. In the meantime, his job as they saw it was to mostly stay in the palace, practise the waving, have enough sense to face the right way on coins and let them get on with the ploughing, sowing, growing and harvesting. It was, as they saw it, a social contract. They did what they always did, and he let them. — Terry Pratchett

What was it with women and pushing men's buttons?
I get that a woman wants to look attractive. News flash: you already do. We see it. But apparently to women, owning their own beauty isn't enough. They arm all the weapons in their arsenal to gain the attention of every Y chromosome within a ten-mile radius. Why do they go to all the trouble? Validation.
Meanwhile, biology dictates survival of the fittest; battles ensue, wars are fought, and somewhere amid all the carnage, a victor emerges to claim his female. All because said female just wanted to go out and feel pretty that night. — Kat Bastion

I learned that the true purpose of working with a horse at liberty in a round pen is simply this: to capture his attention and get him interested in you. — Sharon Foley

I realized that there is no shortage of the love a mother has to offer her children. There is a never-ending supply of love, pride, and affection, and each child will no doubt receive his equal share. Thankfully, it's just the way we are built. There is, however, something that each child doesn't get the same amount of, and that is called attention. — Jill Smokler

It's always in those moments when you've shunned God, or you've gone ahead as if you don't need Him, that you find yourself crawling back with pathetic little attempts to get His attention because suddenly you're weak and you need to convince yourself you're not alone on the bathroom floor. — Hannah Brencher

I looked at our hands, caked and coated in red, but entwined. The pristine moment when they were clasped like that earlier in the day seemed weeks ago.
"Clean." Peter said.
"Can I get a water bottle or something to clean his hands?" I scanned the crowd. He drew my attention back to him with a pull of my hand.
"No," Peter said. "I'm ... clean."
I had missed who Peter was until that very moment.
I had called him names and treated him callously. I had read every micro expression in a vacuum of how it related to Austin Glass. And in return Peter had cared for my wounds, treated me tenderly and assured me that he was HIV negative while bleeding out in a hallway of strangers.
I broke. It wasn't a visible fracture. I didn't sob or explode into anguish. I didn't give in to my vomitus urge that came from the burst of self-loathing. But I shattered nonetheless. — Dani Alexander

My dad called the cops and told them I stole his car."
I roll my eyes. "Your old man put you in this hellhole? On purpose?"
"He thought it would teach me a lesson."
"Yeah," I say. "The lesson is that your old man's an asshole." The dad should have taught his son how to dress better instead.
"My mom'll bail me out."
"You sure?"
White Guy straightens. "She's a lawyer, and my dad's done this before. A few times. I think to piss off my mom and get her attention. They're divorced."
I shake my head. White people. — Simone Elkeles

A tiny smile played over his lips as he glanced down at my hand. "Do you mean to win me over with feminine wiles? I must admit it is a more diverting notion than your usual method of screaming at me like a fishwife."
I did not rise to the bait. I simply looked at him. "Please."
He caught his breath, a slow smile warming his features. "My god, you are trying to seduce me."
"I am not." I said primly. "I am merely trying to get your attention."
He bent swiftly and kissed me hard, pulling back so suddenly I nearly toppled over. "I believe I have already made it quite clear you have my attention. — Deanna Raybourn

My name's not Jerry," he grumbled, raising his head.
"I know, but it's the only way I can get your attention, kid."
"What did you want?" Japhet muttered.
"I said, do you have a girl?"
Japhet squinted at him and rubbed his nose.
"A girl?" he asked.
"Yeah. You do know what a girl is, don't you? Female version of the male? Whole lot prettier. Sweet temperament. Heard they're great for marrying. Thought a handsome, half starved and nearly dead Jew like you would have one of those by now. — Jack Lewis Baillot

Lost in thought, it took her several moments to realize that Jace had been saying something to her. When she blinked at him, she saw a wry grin spread across his face. "What?" she asked, ungraciously.
"I wish you'd stop desperately trying to get my attention like this," he said. "It's become embarrassing."
"Sarcasm is the last refuge of the imaginatively bankrupt," she told him.
"I can't help it. I use my rapier wit to hide my inner pain."
"Your pain will be outer soon if you don't get out of traffic. Are you trying to get run over by a cab?"
"Don't be ridiculous," he said. "We could never get a cab that easily in this neighborhood. — Cassandra Clare

The reality is that Qaddafi has been trying to talk to us about his weapons system for years, and we ignored him. The Libyans even came to me about two years ago and offered me a chance to go through their facilities because they couldn't get anybody's attention here. — Seymour Hersh

Dude," Diesel said. "That's no way to get dessert." Carl snapped to attention. "Eep?" "Cookies," I told him. Carl jumped onto his booster seat, sat ramrod straight, and folded his hands on the table. He was a good monkey. I gave him a cookie, and he shoved it into his mouth. "Manners," Diesel said to him. Carl spit the cookie out onto the table, picked it up, and carefully nibbled at it. — Janet Evanovich

As soon as we had the music arranged on our stands, Conductor Li tapped his baton on the lectern and called us to attention. "Quiet please, comrades! And as we play just think of the Long March," he said. "I will be at the front, like Chairman Mao. I will beat the time. Try to keep up. If you get lost, skip a few pages. Hopefully, the rest of us will pass your way eventually... The first movement sounded like nothing less than a full-scale military retreat. We were ambushed by missing pages of score, by an impulsive feint by the cellists and double basses, and by a flautist who turned two pages rather than one and played along happily in no man's land for a dozen or so bars until he was rapped on the head with the end of a clarinet (pg 325) — John Sinclair

To have someone like Clint Eastwood come along and shoot your first draft as written is just any screenwriter's dream. And Clint is very straightforward. If it's good enough to get his attention, it's good enough to produce. — J. Michael Straczynski

Thorne cleared his throat. "We need to get back to the house. We've already risked drawing enough attention, and she..." He looked at Winter. There was an edge to his expression, like he didn't trust anyone who was more attractive than he was. "...will definitely draw attention. — Marissa Meyer