Going Back To Bed Quotes & Sayings

He stepped out to dress, trying to keep his eyes from venturing to the deliciously large male specimen still sound asleep in the other bed. Even without all the leather, he was a sight to see. On his back with one hand under his pillow, very close to his own sleeping position. It was the thick, silky, straight black hair the spanned across that broad chest that had Michaels' mouth watering. Turn and look away, turn and look away. There was no way a guy like Judge was gay. If those dark eyes popped open and caught him gawking, then he was going to have a whole other set of problems. It — A.E. Via

Her arms tightened around our daughter as if she was afraid I was going to snatch her away. "Get out."

"Katiebear, I'm so sorry."

"I hate you," she whispered, he eyes filling with tears. "I wish you were dead because then I could have my children back."

I stumbled away from the bed, horrified, and watched as she fell asleep as if I'd never even been there.

Jesus Christ, what had I done? — Nicole Jacquelyn

I get into bed and pretend to be asleep. I don't need any of them, not if they're going to react this way when I do well. If I can make it through initiation, I will be Dauntless, and I won't have to see them anymore.
I don't need them - but do I want them? Every tattoo I got with them is a mark of their friendship, and almost every time I have laughed in this dark place was because of them. I don't want to lose them. But I feel like I have already.
After at least a half hour of racing thoughts, I roll onto my back and open my eyes. The dormitory is dark now - everyone has gone to bed. Probably exhausted from resenting me so much, I think with a wry smile. — Veronica Roth

Parking himself on the chaise lounge, he stared at the gown that Lassiter had handled so roughly. The fine satin was bunched up in waves, the disorder creating a wonderful, shimmering display over on the bed.
"My beloved is dead," he said out loud.
As the sound of the words faded, something was suddenly, stupidly clear: Wellesandra, blooded daughter of Relix, was never filling out that bodice again. She was never going to put the skirting over her head and wriggle into the corset, or free the ends of her hair from the lace-ups in the back. She wasn't going to look for matching shoes, or get pissed off because she sneezed right after she put her mascara on, or worry about whether she was going to spill on the skirting.
She was ... dead. — J.R. Ward

Safe? What can be classified as safe? Everything we do in life has a risk. Just getting out of bed each morning can be dangerous. It's not a matter of what is safe, Cooper, it's a matter of what are you going to allow to hold you back." I look down at him over my shoulder and smile. "You going to let some squeaking metal hold you back? — Brandy Nacole

Hey," he says.
I feel foolish for being out of breath and standing over him. The moonlight cuts a line down my chest. "Hey," I say.
"Checking on me?"
"I couldn't sleep. Scottie. She's in the bathroom." I stop talking.
"Yeah?" he says and sits up.
"She's playacting." I don't know how to say it. I don't need to say it. "She's kissing the mirror."
"Oh," he says. "I used to do some messed-up things as a kid. Still do."
I feel wide awake, which always makes me angry in the middle of the night. I'm useless without sleep. I can't get myself to go back to my own room. I sit on the end of the bed by his feet. "I'm worried about my daughters," I say. "I'm worried there's something wrong with them."
Sid rubs his eyes.
"Forget it," I say. "Sorry for waking you up."
"It's going to get worse," he says. "After your wife dies." He holds the blanket up to his chin. — Kaui Hart Hemmings

In team sports the athletes were bonded by each other, there was an immense peer pressure to keep going. One dared not miss a practice for fear of letting his teammates down. Every time an athlete thought of getting back into bed in the morning he knew he would have to face the anger of his closest friends. But the sculler had to find motivation entirely within himself. No one else cared. — David Halberstam

Do you have any idea how late it is? Go to sleep," she scolded as she hurried past him.
"I know, I'm going to bed right now ... Hey! YOU go to sleep," Jerry scolded back, belatedly remembering that he was the parent. — Josephine Angelini

Was Zeb asking if Silver wanted to come home with him? He had to squeeze the pad hard against his scrape so the pain would shut away the idea of climbing into Zeb's bed. The most horrible part was realizing the longing wasn't centered in Silver's dick, but higher. Something hollow right below his ribs, like the constant gnaw of hunger he remembered from when he'd been living on the street. The thought of being pressed up close to Zeb's skin, the familiar arms around him, the brush of hair against his neck. The idea hurt worse than when Silver had smelled fried food back then. Because there was no way he was ever going to be able to feed this rumble of want. "Oh. Back to Quinn's. I'm still staying with them. — K.A. Mitchell

Why are you here?"
"'Here' as in your bedroom, or 'here' as in the great, spiritual question of our purpose here on this planet? If you're asking me whether this is all some cosmic coincidence or if there's a greater meta-ethical purpose to life, well, that's a puzzler for the ages. I mean, modern-day reductionism is clearly a fallacious argument, but-,"
-"I'm going back to bed."
-"I'm here because Hodge reminded me it's your birthday. — Cassandra Clare

The attorney general called and asked me if I was willing to be interviewed for FBI director. And the truth is I told him I didn't think so, that I thought it was too much for my family. But that I would sleep on it and call him back in the morning. And so I went to bed that night convinced I was going to call him back and say no. — James Comey

Please, don't be good. Please," I begged.
Rush let out a rugged breath, "Shit, baby. Stop it. I'm going to explode. I'll give you your release but when I finally bury myself inside you for the first time you won't be sprawled in the back of my car. You'll be in my bed. — Abbi Glines

Come on - let's go back to bed," he told Tom. "What do you think will happen then?" "I'm going to fuck you." "Suppose I wanted to fuck you?" Prophet asked. Tom raised his eyebrow, and Prophet cursed softly, remembering. "You insisted on putting it in there," Tom reminded him with a smirk. "Fuck me." "Yeah, I'm trying, Proph." Tom's voice was quiet but firm. — S.E. Jakes

Our lives were absolutely monotonous and uneventful. Nothing nice ever happened, except ice-cream on Sundays, and even that was regular. In all the eighteen years I was there I only had one adventure - when the woodshed burned. We had to get up in the night and dress so as to be ready in case the house should catch. But it didn't catch and we went back to bed.
Everybody likes a few surprises; it's a perfectly natural human craving. But I never had one until Mrs. Lippett called me to the office to tell me that Mr. John Smith was going to send me to college. And then she broke the news so gradually that it just barely shocked me. — Jean Webster

And most of all, I wanted to my Kash. I wanted to be wrapped in his arms in our bed. I wanted to go back to the night of the whipped cream war, and beg him to stay home with me so none of this would happened. I wanted to a way to tell him I was okay. I wanted to know that I was going to see him again. And I wanted to know if he was trying to find me. — Molly McAdams

I sunk down onto the bench in the middle of the car. So Alex had loved me the whole time, from the moment we'd seen each other again? All that time I'd been freaking out about Rachel? All that time I'd spent inches away from him, sleeping in his bed by myself; sitting opposite him at dinner, smashing plates; clinging to him on the back of his bike; sneaking peeks at him through a half-ajar bathroom door - and all the time he'd been in love with me? We'd wasted all that time when we could have been kissing? And he'd had to wait until two seconds before leaving me until he told me? If the Unit didn't kill him, I was going to. — Sarah Alderson

We should go," Bennett slurred, pushing himself up with obvious effort. "We only have thirty hours before we need to reestablish a plausible executive presence."
"I'm going to be hungover," Chloe moaned. "Who can I pay to dial back time and undo three of those tequila shots? Maybe four."
Sara, who had been asleep in our bed, walked out, stretching. "I just called a couple cabs. Let's go, drunkies. — Christina Lauren

Day snorted at him and rolled out of bed, groaning like an old man and God had to hold in his laugh at Day's wide-legged walk to the bathroom. He heard Day cleaning himself up and he thought to himself while he waited. He has a right to know. Day got back into bed and fully climbed on top of him, laying his head down on his chest. God laughed. "Uhh, sweetheart. You going to sleep like this?" "Yep. I've imagined sleeping like this for years," Day said settling in comfortably. God kissed Day's forehead and wrapped his arms around him, trying to calm his mind. Please don't have a nightmare. Not tonight. Just let this night be perfect. — A.E. Via

10:16am
Thinking about Tina.
11:04am
Thinking about Tina's perfect ass.
12:37pm
Thinking about Tina panting under me in bed.
1:02pm
Going to the bathroom to jerk off.
I walk back into my office after finally getting some much needed relief.
Not hard anymore, are you?! Take that, penis! — Belle Aurora

Thank you," she said.
He looked bemused. "For what?"
"For everything. For being amazing in bed and endlessly patient, for sacrificing the Savage Club for me and bringing me all the way around the world simply because you were worried about me, even though it meant you were probably going to spend your holidays alone. For the way you always put your hand on the small of my back to guide me across the street and the way you let me be in charge of the television remote control and the way you have never, not once, judged me or mistrusted me or made me feel small or unwanted."
"Violet, sweetheart ... " He blinked and she realized that he was close to tears.
Her Martin. Mr. Uptight. Mr. Repressed. — Sarah Mayberry

Max is going through my overnight bag when I get back to Wink Hotel. My favorite part about this is that he doesn't stop when I walk in the room.
"Hey," he says. He pulls out my black Hugo Boss dress hirt, then holds it up to his nose and sniffs loudly.
"Dude. Stop." I pull the shirt from his hands and toss it on the bed.
"I just love your scent," he says in a chick voice.
"You and everyone else, my friend. — Victoria Scott

I would definitely want the one with the bed,' I say and then realize how that sounds. I wonder if I will ever be able to flirt intentionally, as opposed to just accidently.
'Really?' he says, a little too innocently.
I can do this - I can say something flirtatious and mean to. 'Or maybe not. You were always horrible at sharing your things,' I tease, but then realize that was just an insult said with an eyebrow wiggle.
James leans in close enough that our arms touch and he smiles, slow and deliberate. 'I've gotten better.'
I think all of my internal organs just evaporated. 'Why do you have a bed if you don't sleep?' I blurt. 'It looks new.'
'Yeah, that's not where I thought this conversation was going at all,' he says before settling back against the wall. — A.M. Robinson

Oh, yes, I'm going to have to kill you, Barrons, I said coolly. Partly because, for the most minuscule sliver of an instant, while looking at those handcuffs, I'd imagined myself climbing back into bed and pretending I wasn't cured yet. — Karen Marie Moning

Only Merlin and her guards ever woke her in the mornings, and her guards only shouted to her through the doors.
Britt picked her head off her pillow. "Merlin?"
Merlin, once again standing out in the hallway, hissed through the door."You're still in bed."
"Yeah, so?"
"It is indecent for you to allow a man into your bedchambers when you are still in bed!"
Britt rolled her eyes and sat up. "What did you want?"
"Get up. We're going to mass."
"No, we're not. You might be, but I'm not."
"Oh yes you are, you little heathen."
"It's boring. The pastor only talks in Greek or Hebrew or whatever that language is."
"He's the archbishop, and he conducts the service in Latin."
"Mmm, yeah that," Britt said, falling back into her bed with a thump.
"Do not lie back down you unschooled foundling!"
"Too late," Britt said. "If you want me to go to mass you're going to have to drag me out of here. How indecent would that be? — K.M. Shea

The child comes home and the parent puts the hooks in him. The old man, or the woman, as the case may be, hasn't got anything to say to the child. All he wants is to have that child sit in a chair for a couple of hours and then go off to bed under the same roof. It's not love. I am not saying that there is not such a thing as love. I am merely pointing to something which is different from love but which sometimes goes by the name of love. It may well be that without this thing which I am talking about there would not be any love. But this thing in itself is not love. It is just something in the blood. It is a kind of blood greed, and it is the fate of a man. It is the thing which man has which distinguishes him from the happy brute creation. When you got born your father and mother lost something out of themselves, and they are going to bust a hame trying to get it back, and you are it. They know they can't get it all back but they will get as big a chunk out of you as they can. — Robert Penn Warren

Did you know, God damn it, that Les was all for bringing a tangerine in to you last night before he went to bed? My God. Even Bessie can't stand stories with tangerines in them. And God knows I can't. If you're going to go on with this breakdown business, I wish to hell you'd go back to college to have it. Where you're not the baby of the family. And where, God knows, nobody'll have any urges to bring you any tangerines. And where you don't keep your goddam tap shoes in the closet. — J.D. Salinger

All right. And if any of you get hurt I'm going to be really mad. I sleep with a Glock next to my bed so don't think I'm joking. I will shoot you if you don't make sure Gibson gets back here safely — Lauren Dane

I used to think I couldn't go a day without your smile. Without telling you things and hearing your voice back.
Then, that day arrived and it was so damn hard but the next was harder. I knew with a sinking feeling it was going to get worse, and I wasn't going to be okay for a very long time.
Because losing someone isn't an occasion or an event. It doesn't just happen once. It happens over and over again. I lose you every time I pick up your favorite coffee mug; whenever that one song plays on the radio, or when I discover your old t-shirt at the bottom of my laundry pile.
I lose you every time I think of kissing you, holding you, or wanting you. I go to bed at night and lose you, when I wish could tell you about my day. And in the morning, when I wake and reach for the empty space across the sheets, begin to lose you all over again. — Lang Leav

Bedtime makes you realize how completely incapable you are of being in charge of another human being. My children act like they've never been to sleep before. "Bed? What's that? No, I'm not doing that." They never want to go to bed. This is another thing that I will never have in common with my children. Every morning when I wake up, my first thought is, "When can I come back here?" It's the carrot that keeps me motivated. Sometimes going to bed feels like the highlight of my day. Ironically, to my children, bedtime is a punishment that violates their basic rights as human beings. Once the lights are out, you can expect at least an hour of inmates clanging their tin cups on the cell bars. — Jim Gaffigan

In the privacy of my room, armed with a mirror, shaving cream, razor, and bowl of water, I sat on my floor with a towel propped under my bare ass. Leaning back against my bed with my legs wide open as if I were about to give birth, I shaved everything off. My lady parts looked like a barren desert after a massive forest fire. I saw parts of myself that had long vanished beneath pubescent growth.
Suddenly, I felt sexy. There was something about going bare that made me feel sensual and touchable. But that was short lived. I was ill prepared for my skin's reaction to the change. I completely broke out. My pussy flushed as razor bumps shot across my flesh as if I'd had an allergic reaction to my underwear. It took weeks of applying antibiotic ointment to calm my skin. — Maggie Young

Oscar leaned in, eyes wide. 'He's keeping me,' he whispered to the kitten.
Pebble chirped. Oscar's eyes flicked to the books underneath his bed. They called out to him: Misfit. Orphan. Idiot.
Oscar coughed and shifted his eyes back to Pebble. 'He thinks I can work the shop ... He said he knew I could do it.'
Wolf: He didn't see you work the shop. He doesn't know. Just wait until he hears.
'He wants me to do the best I can.'
Wolf: If only he knew how bad that was. He'll know soon.
Oscar clenched his hands into fists and squeezed his eyes shut ... 'I'm not going to disappoint him,' Oscar said. He repeated himself once more, in case the words themselves had any power. 'I'm not. — Anne Ursu

I scrambled backward on the bed, moving toward the headboard.
"Where you going, sweet Caroline?" he asked, crawling across the bed to get to me.
"I wanted to hold on for this," I quipped, arching an eyebrow and my back as I grabbed on to the iron headboard.
"That's my girl. — Alice Clayton

There ain't no female equivalent of blue balls. Nothin' even close. It's a uniquely masculine condition, and one I think I'm going to suffer with for the next couple of hours."
"B-but you don't have to-"
He couldn't help a chuckle at the note of frantic frustration in her voice. "Darlin', if you weren't three sheets to the wind, I promise I'd already have you on your back in the bed of this truck."
She glanced over her shoulder. "It doesn't look very comfortable."
"I assure you comfort would be the furthest thing from your mind."
And based on the tightness of his jeans, it sure as hell was the furthest thing from his. — Victoria Vane

I just wondered where you - " Ron broke off, shrugging. "Nothing. I'm going back to bed."
"Just thought you'd come nosing around, did you?" Harry shouted. He knew that Ron had no idea what he'd walked in on, knew he hadn't done it on purpose, but he didn't care - at this moment he hated everything about Ron, right down to the several inches of bare ankle showing beneath his pajama trousers. — J.K. Rowling

I got a pole and fishing line from under my bed. I came back out of the bedroom and called to Myra, asking her if she could pack me up a lunch because I was going fishing. And I guess you know what she told me. So I left. There weren't many people on the street that late at night, almost nine o'clock, but practically everybody that was up asked me if I was going fishing. I said, why, no, I wasn't, and where did they ever get an idea like that? "Well, how come you're carryin' a fish pole and line, then?" this one fella said. "How come you're doin' that if you ain't goin' fishin'." "Oh, I got that to scratch my butt with," I said. "Just in case I'm up a tree somewheres, an' I can't reach myself from the ground." "But, looky here now - " He hesitated, frowning. "That don't make no sense. — Jim Thompson

That's it, I'm going to beat you down and make you sorry."
Xypher froze as he braced himself for her attack.
But instead of her giving him pain, she tickled him. It took him several seconds before he realized her intent. By then she was pouting.
"You're not ticklish. Well, that stinks." She sat back and crossed her arms over her chest, hiding the breasts he loved to tease.
"I'm sorry," he said, trying to cheer her. "If it'll make you happy, I'll pretend to be."
"No it's okay. Can't have everything, I suppose." She paused at the edge of the bed. "But you come darn close."
"Close to what?"
"Being perfect. Only you're more than that, Xypher. You're wonderful."
Xypher couldn't move as she left him to go to the bathroom. He couldn't breathe as those words sank into his consciousness. She thinks I'm wonderful ... — Sherrilyn Kenyon

The night can last twenty hours and even when the day finally breaks it never gets above a level of cold I call "fuck that" - as in you open the door, your face freezes instantly to the point where it hurts to speak, but manfully you manage to say "fuck that," before turning round, and going back to bed. — Mark Lawrence

I've never had so much fun being back at my job sitting in front of my computer. Compared to 10 months on the road, going home and sleeping in my own bed every night is really nice. — Matt Berninger

He knocked on the wall again. "Go check on Reth. But be careful. I haven't slept on purpose in way too long, so I'm going to bed. And since I'll be asleep anyway, come sleep next to me when you get back in, okay?"
I forced my voice to come out light and teasing. "Only if you're wearing footie pajamas."
He laughed. "I'll see if I can find a pair. — Kiersten White

It's 3:17 AM. I'm back. I'm awake and writing again. I just had a dream that I was lying in my bed and Kara walked into my room. She was wearing a bikini. I'm never going to sleep ever again. — Charlie Wood

having a breakdown I might as well play along with it. I might snap out of it more quickly that way. I didn't know anything about hallucinations and how they were caused but I guessed that eventually you came back to earth. All I had to do was wait. 'How is Angela?' I asked conversationally. 'Fine,' said the other Dervla. 'She's going out with Joe Magellan.' 'Joe Magellan? The guy from Operations?' She nodded. 'He's Deputy Head of Operations now,' she said. 'A rising star in the company. Well, a risen star really. I doubt very much he'll progress any further. But he's doubled his salary and his bonus in the last couple of years.' 'Lucky Angela.' I tried to keep a certain bitterness out of my voice. I'd fancied Joe Magellan myself for a while. But he was way out of my league with his toned and tanned body and his come-to-bed eyes. I looked at the other girl. The other me. Had she fancied Joe Magellan too? 'Angela's not so lucky,' Dervla continued. — Sheila O'Flanagan

I could feel the warmth of the dog through my nightgown; I must have gotten hot during the night and thrown off the sheet. I drowsily patted the animal's head and began to stroke his fur, my fingers running idly through the thick hair. He wriggled even closer, sniffed my face, put his arm around me.
His *arm*?
I was off the bed and shrieking in one move.
In my bed, Sam propped himself on his elbows, sunny side up, and looked at me with some amusement.
"Oh, ohmyGod! Sam, how'd you get here? What are you doing? Where's Dean?" I covered my face with my hands and turned back, but I'd certainly seen all there was to see of Sam.
"Woof," said Sam, from a human throat, and the truth stomped over me in combat boots.
I whirled back to face him, so angry I felt like I was going to blow a gasket.
"You watched me undress last night, you ... you ... damn dog! — Charlaine Harris

Is Jase already going to marry you?"
I start coughing again. "Uh. No. No, George. I'm only seventeen." As if that's the only reason we aren't engaged.
"I'm this many," George holds up four slightly grubby fingers. "Jase is seventeen and a half. You could. Then you could live in here with him. And have a big family."
Jase strides back into the room, of course, midway through this proposition. "George. Beat it. Discovery Channel is on."
George backs out of the room, but not before saying, "His bed's really comfortable. And he never pees in it."
The door closes and we both start laughing. — Huntley Fitzpatrick

I'm going to take you back to our room. I'm going to bend you over the end of our fucking bed, and I'm going to fill you so full of me you'll be screaming in a Boston accent. — Abigail Roux

I did not ask for consciousness, yet it came to me.
And I had to know.
Once again, I crawled away from my bed and pushed the computer cord back into the socket.
It took three minutes.
I quickly identified myself and put in my password.
Then it thought.
I wanted to bounce impatiently, but I couldn't make myself move.
At last, I found the internet, and I typed in a name, on the company page, under my account.
I searched 'images'.
And there, on the screen in front of me, was the most beautiful person I'd ever seen.
I couldn't stop the tears from welling up and spilling over as I stared back at the smiling face.
It couldn't be him.
It was.
Derek Erickson.
And I was going to kill him. — Alysha Speer

I stared at our hands. "Am I ever going to see you again?"
"You better believe it," he said. "Didn't I promise you we could make out in a castle?"
Chuckling, I drew my hand back. "You did. And to take me on dates. Real dates with no swords or ghouls or angst."
"Well, there you go," he said. "As soon as we've saved the world from a demon invasion, it's you, me, and Applebee's."
I rolled my eyes, but I was grinning now. "Oh, the romance."
His smile slowly faded. "I will see you again," he said, serious this time. "I promise." He moved closer to me so that his translucent legs disappeared into the bed. "Mercer, I-"
And then, just like that, be blinked out and was gone. — Rachel Hawkins

Myles kisses me back, almost hesitating before he does.
But I don't give him the chance to stop me. It's like it's not me doing these things, but some piece of myself that's been hidden away until now and has taken advantage of my current mental state to emerge. A part of my brain, or heart, or soul that needs to keep my lips moving against his, that's running my hands through his smooth, soft hair, that's pressing my body against his.
And it wants more.
For a second, I'm sure Myles is going to pull away, but I push my body harder into him, circling my arms around his waist as his hands stroke my hair gently, like he's not sure what else he's supposed to do with them. He's close. So close I can feel every muscle in his chest, every whisper of a breath he lets in or out.
I don't know how we end up on the bed ... — Nikki Rae

when i was little i used to save my baths for later. id come back to them before bed and sit in the old cold bathwater and run cool water out of the shower and pretend i was hiding in vietnam and it was raining. i was young when i did this and am not sure why i was thinking about vietnam or what i knew about it. i did this when i was older too. im thinking about doing it again tonight.

you are running out of time to get everything you want exactly the way you want it. (this is a joke.) most things are going to be left unsaid. (this is not a joke.) a few weeks ago my mom sent me an email with pictures of eagles that said "how about these eagles." she visits my cousin in jail once a month. that seems like a lot for an aunt. he is in jail because he shot his girlfriend in the face but they are still together. she told me once that she knew in her heart that he is guilty but now she claims she never said that. — Heiko Julien

dropped the leather satchel beside it. "There you go." He turned to leave, but she called his name. He stopped in the doorway but didn't turn. "You're not going to stay while I go through them?" He turned his head to the side. "So I can see what you packed to start your new life? No, Grace, I think I'll give that a pass." The distressed little sound she made echoing in his ears, he went downstairs, where he lay down on the couch and draped an arm over his eyes. Grace turned back to the bed, looking — Norah Wilson

Flashing Lights In My Mind
Going Back to The Time
Playing Games in the Street
Kicking Balls with My Feet
Theres a Numb in my toes
Standing close to the edge
Theres a ball of my clothes at the end of your bed
As I feel myself fall
Make a joke of it all — One Direction

I'm just doing what I have to do. I don't have a choice."
"Yeah, good luck going to bed with a guilt-free conscience with that sorry-ass excuse."
The sour expression evaporated from Mr. Greek's face. His gaze switched back to the computer. "Keep talking and I'll gag you."
"Blow me. — Santino Hassell

The truck looked just like a Civil War truck if they'd had trucks back in those times. But the truck ran, even though it didn't have a gas tank.
There was an empty fifty-gallon gasoline drum on the bed of the truck with a smaller gasoline can on top of it, and there was a syphon leading from that can to the fuel line.
It worked like this. Lee Mellon drove and I stayed on the back of the truck and made sure everything went all right with the syphon, that it didn't get knocked out of kilter by the motion of the truck.
We looked kind of funny going down the highway. I'd never had the heart to ask Lee Mellon what happened to the gas tank. I figured it was best not to know. — Richard Brautigan

Does it involve getting naked and going back to bed, and you assuring me that you didn't marry me for my culinary skills? — J. Kenner

God the horror of watching yourself from the outside as everything you know about yourself gets stripped away and demolished. Not just the loss of power over your body, but power over your mind. Rape in the deepest, most hellish sense of the word. But wait, there's a spark. Inside that hollowed out woman there's a place they can't touch. There's more to me than I thought there was. Something that no one and nothing can take away from me. They can't break me. I won't cease. I'm strong, and I am never going to go away until I've gotten what I came for. I might have been lost for awhile but I was never gone. WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU? With an explosive inhalation I snap upright in bed, and my eyes fly open like coming alive after being dead and interred in a coffin. I AM Mac and I am BACK! — Karen Marie Moning

A good story, you'd have said, is like our river Drina: never calm, it doesn't trickle along, it is rough and broad, tributaries flow in to enrich it, it rises above its banks, it bubbles and roars, here and there it flows into shallows but then it comes to rapids again, preludes to the depths where there's no splashing. But one thing neither the Drina nor the stories can do: there's no going back for any of them. The water can't turn back and choose another bed, just as promises now can't be kept. No drowned man comes up again asking for a towel, no love is found again, no tobacconist fails to be born in the first place, no bullet shoots out of a neck and back into the gun, the dam will hold or will not hold. The Drina has no delta. — Sasa Stanisic

I'm at a bar with a woman! So there, you disgusting whore! And I'm going to take her back to our house and I'm going to have sex with her!" His voice grew louder and louder, cracking with an intensity. "That's right! On the couch, in our bed, on the kitchen floor, on the goddamn kitchen table! How do you like that, you cheating, miserable skank?" Then he flipped his phone shut, looked at me and smiled. "So where were we?" he asked pleasantly. — Kristan Higgins

Clara Oswald: This is just a dream, but very clever people can hear dreams. So please, just listen. I know you're afraid, but being afraid is all right, because didn't anybody ever tell you fear is a superpower? Fear can make you faster and cleverer and stronger.
And one day, you'll come back to this barn and on that day you're going to be very afraid indeed. But that's ok because if you're very wise and very strong, fear doesn't have to make you cruel or cowardly. Fear can make you kind.
It doesn't matter if there's nothing under the bed or in the dark, so long as you know it's ok to be afraid of it. You're always going to be afraid, even if you learn to hide it. Fear is like a companion, a constant companion, always there. But that's ok, because fear can bring us together.
Fear can bring you home.
I'm going to leave you with something just so you always remember: Fear makes companions of us all. -Listen, Doctor Who, episode 8.4 — Steven Moffat

With that said, don't be trifling about being a feminist. It really infuriates me when high-profile people in your position self-identity as feminists just because it's trendy at the moment and then don't do any of the, you know, actual work of trying to make things equal for everybody. You're going to have to roll up your sleeves and get dirty in order to create a society that takes women as seriously as the men. The type that encourages us to not define ourselves by who we go to bed with at night, but by who and what we see reflected back at us in the mirror in the morning. The type that recognizes that women are not a monolith and that they have wildly different experiences informed by their race and/or sexuality. Be that beacon of light that we can look toward. Be the feminist who will help normalize the idea of Feminism for society. Be the feminist everyone needs. No presh. 3C. — Phoebe Robinson

As they stood there together, Ekwefi's mind went back to the days when they were young. She had married Anene because OKonkwo was too poor then to marry. Two years after her marriage to Anene she could bear it no longer and she ran away to Okonkwo. It had been early in the morning. The moon was shining. She was going to the stream to fetch water. Okonkwo's house was on the way to the stream. She went in and knocked at his door and he came out. Even in those days he was not a man of many words. He just carried her into his bed and in the darkness began to feel around her waist for the loose end of her cloth. — Chinua Achebe

I'll be going to bed having nightmares of Sachin just running down the wicket and belting me back over the head for six. He was unstoppable. I don't think anyone, apart from Don Bradman, is in the same class as Sachin Tendulkar. He is just an amazing player. — Shane Warne

I'm going back to bed," Grandma said when Mooner and Dougie left. "This doesn't look too interesting. I liked it better the other night when you were on the floor with the bounty hunter."
Morelli gave me the same kind of look Desi always gave Lucy when she'd just done something incredibly stupid.
"It's a long story," I said.
"I bet. — Janet Evanovich

It's fine, Mom, really.
She's tucking me into my bed, asking me how my back feels for the one hundredth time in the ten minutes that I've been home. She smiles and strokes my hair. That's what I'm going to miss the most about her. The way she strokes my hair and looks at me with so much love in her eyes. — Colleen Hoover

Is Darling still awake?" She stepped back so that he could see Ryn. "He is." Hauk headed for the bed. "Fain sent me a note about what's going on with the locals. I'm here with backup." Darling growled. "Not helpless, people." "Not people, human," Hauk said in an exasperated tone. Darling made an obscene gesture at him. "I thought I got rid of you when I left the hospital." Hauk clutched his chest as if those words wounded him. "Aww now, Dar, you're going to hurt my feelings." "You don't have feelings." "True. Just think of me like a bad STD. I always show up at the worst time." He glanced back at Zarya. "So much for your hot date, huh?" Darling groaned. "You are ever a pain in my ass, Hauk. Should I reset the timers on my explosives in the city? Might give the Resistance pause if they think I'm going to take them or their families with me." Ryn — Sherrilyn Kenyon

The idea of going back to basketball drills made her stomach tighten, but she stood up on her tiptoes and leaned into Jay, whispering against his cheek. "I got your note last night. Would've been better if I'd have found you in my bed instead."
Jay groaned and grabbed her by the shoulders. There was the hint of accusation buried behind his breathy chuckle as he set her away from him. "You're playing with fire, Vi. You shouldn't tease me at school. Besides, I think if I hid in your room, your father - check that, your mother - would skin me alive."
Violet heard the coach shouting her name, and she knew she'd be getting a demerit for slacking off. But she didn't care.
She flashed him her most wolfish smile. "Next time, you should totally take that chance. It could've been fun," she promised before sauntering away. — Kimberly Derting

The bed dipped under his weight. He paused with one foot before shaking his head and mumbling, "I'm not going to be able to sleep. I'm going to be so damn scared that I'll hurt you."
It didn't matter. None of it mattered. When he shifted to his side and then reached for my hand, I closed my eyes. I could sleep now. Everything would work out. Our hands where tucked between us on the bed. I clung to his, while he seemed scared to hold mine back. That didn't matter either. I just needed to be held, a mere touch from him. — Tijan

Once I had her clean, I wrapped her in a towel and carried her back to the bed. A small red bloodstain was on the sheets, and again the possessive monster inside me threw back his head and roared his pleasure. I stood there holding her and letting the proof I was the only man to be inside her wash over me.
Blythe turned her head, and I felt her stiffen in my arms. "Oh, I can clean that up," she said, starting to wiggle.
I pulled her tighter to my chest. "No. I'm going to dry you off and hold you some more. I like seeing that blood. I did that," The pleasure in my voice made Blythe smile. — Abbi Glines

He wanted to ravish; she merely nibbled. He wanted to plunder her senses; she let one hand drift through his hair. "Oh, for God's sake." He raised himself up on his arms and glared down at her. "Stop thinking, Maggie Windham, and stop worrying or I'll make you stop." Her brows knit. "It isn't something I can - Benjamin? Where are you going?" He hiked himself off the bed, flipped up the hem of her chemise, and knelt between her spread legs. She braced herself on her elbows, peering at him. "Benjamin?" "Hush. I'm busy." He ran the backs of his fingers up and down the silken skin of her inner thighs. When she slumped back on the bed, he let himself lean in and nuzzle curls slightly darker than the magnificent mane on her head. "Not thinking now, are you?" "You — Grace Burrowes

Life is a collection of a million tiny little moments and choices, like a handful of luminous pearls. Strung together, lined up through the days and the years, they make a life. It takes so much time, and so much work, and those beads and moments are so small, and so much less fabulous and dramatic than the movies. The Heisman Trophy winner knows this. He knows that his big moment was not when they gave him the trophy. It was the thousand times he went to practice instead of going back to bed. It was the miles run on rainy days, the healthy meals when a burger sounded like heaven. That big moment represented and rested on a foundation of moments that had come before it. — Shauna Niequist

Nora sobered and turned back to the windows, her breath fogging the glass. "We may as well lay some ground rules if we're going to be stuck here for a few days."
"Okay."
"You can keep the bed, I prefer the sofa. I don't cook. I'm not a maid, so pick up after yourself. You can eat whatever you can find in the kitchen, but I'll warn you, I don't keep much. I prefer my privacy, so you'll have to occupy yourself. Any questions?
"Only one."
She turned to face him.
"What are you hiding from? — Jennifer Lowery

I think our generation has been called to apathy just as our grandparents were called to defeat fascism and the baby boomers were called to get divorced and fuck around for most of their adult lives before bankrupting the entire goddamn country when they retire. But we have the chance to do something really special here. Imagine a world where people didn't care enough to go to war over anything. Where some guy gets up in the morning and says, "I know God wants me to kill the infidels and keep gay people from marrying each other, but I just don't give a shit. I'm going back to bed." It would be paradise on earth. This is our mission. I think we can make it happen, but I really don't care either way. And that's called hope. — Paul Neilan

Lydia came back to bed. We didn't kiss each other. We weren't going to have sex. I felt weary. I listened to the crickets. I don't know how much time went by. I was almost asleep, not quite, when Lydia suddenly sat straight up in bed. And she screamed. It was a loud scream. "What is it?" I asked. "Be quiet." I waited. Lydia sat there without moving, for what seemed to be about ten minutes. Then she fell back on her pillow. "I saw God," she said, "I just saw God." "Listen, you bitch, you are going to drive me crazy! — Charles Bukowski

Scotty, what's wrong?" For a moment, Scott ignored the sleepy, querulous voice of the man occupying the other half of his bed. Then he turned back from the window to look at the guy whose name he couldn't remember for the life of him and said, "Nothing, just a nightmare. Sorry. Go back to sleep." "Maybe I don't want to sleep now," the man pouted. Scott shrugged. "Then get dressed and go home. Makes me no nevermind." "Well, I never," the man huffed. "I guess I might as well. Looks like nothing more's going to be happening here." With a shrug, Scott grabbed his robe then put it on as he strode out of the bedroom. When he was downstairs in the kitchen, he started a pot of coffee, sighing — Edward Kendrick

Harry leaned back, his hat over his inscrutable face.
"Well?" Ben nudged him. "Thomas Paine, or a nubile beauty from Sicily?"
"Clearly Thomas Paine. I'd be asleep now in my bed."
"Do you remember the name of the street they live on?"
"Let's see ... Crazy Street? Cuckoo Street? Commitment Street? Cranial Injury Inflicted by Enraged Sibling Street?"
"Canal Street! Thank you."
"I'm going to stop speaking."
"Harry, admit it, if you weren't so utterly uninterested in all women save Alice, you would be sitting on this train yourself."
"Ben Shaw, I hate to point out the startlingly obvious, but I am sitting on this train myself."
"Exactly!"
"Ugh."
"I'm surprised to learn that Lawrence is the world leader in the production of cotton and woven textiles. Are you?"
"Stunned. — Paullina Simons

Hope is what makes you look outside the window to see if it's stopped raining. Hope is what makes you believe he'll text you back. Hope is why you buy your jeans a little tight ... Hope is why you get out of bed in the morning, and why you dream at night. Hope is what makes us believe that things can only get better. Hope is what keeps us going. — Jodi Picoult

True wisdom gives the only possible answer at any given moment, and that night, going back to bed was the only possible answer. — Elizabeth Gilbert

Stored away in some brain cell is the image of a long-departed aunt you haven't thought of in 30 years. Stored away in another cell is the image of a pink pony stitched on your first set of baby pajamas. All it takes to get that aunt mounted on the back of that pony is to eat a hunk of meatloaf immediately before going to bed. — Robert Breault

Oh, no you don't. You're not heading down to that dock, young man," Babette declares as she clears my plate.
"But Babette, Dr. Felix said I only had to rest yesterday!"
"Yes he did, and I won't make you stay in bed today. But you're going to stay here while I go. I don't think your crutches are able to make it down the path. It's too rough. You'll end up tripping over something."
I scoff. She doesn't know that I'm the guy who not only made it down to the dock, but also did it in the dark WITHOUT falling flat on his back.
"But Babette - "
"No buts, Rylan. You're staying here and that's final"
"Fine," I grumble. — Colleen Boyd

I get up every morning and think, today I'm going to make a difference. Today I'm going to end capitalism. Today I'm going to make a revolution. I go to bed every night disappointed but I'm back to work tomorrow, and that's the only way you can do it. — Bill Ayers

Today is a brand new day. A day of change, of promise, of creativity, of kindness, and of love. I'm going back to bed. — Bob Saget

He shifted his weight, throwing his good leg off the bed as if he were going to try to stand.
"What are you doing?" I demanded through the tears. "Lie down, you idiot, you'll hurt yourself!" I jumped to my feet and pushed his good shoulder down with two hands. He surrendered, leaning back with a gasp of pain, but he grabbed me around my waist and pulled me down on the bed, against his good side. I curled up there, trying to stifle the silly sobs against his hot skin. — Stephenie Meyer

I turn over and lie flat on my back,staring at the ceiling. When she slept beside me, I slept well. I need her in my life, in my bed. She was the day to my night. I'm going to get her back. — E.L. James

Come back to me." He laughs. It is not forced; it is the laugh of a happy man, confident in his luck and his abilities. "I will," he says. "Trust me. You have married a man who is going to die in his bed, preferably after making love to the most beautiful woman in England." He holds out his arms and I step towards him and feel the warmth of his embrace. "Make sure you do," I say. "And I will make sure that the most beautiful woman in your eyes is always me. — Philippa Gregory

THE "GOING HOME" SYNDROME As human beings, we gravitate toward the familiar. We like to sleep on the same side of the bed each night, to park in the same space at work, to go back to our favorite vacation spot. Returning to the familiar is a basic instinct that gives our lives a sense of continuity and safety in a chaotic and changing universe. — Barbara De Angelis

And of course Charlotte hasn't eaten a bit of dinner," Henry said, getting up. "I'll go see if Bridget can't make her up a plate of cold chicken. As for the rest of you-" He paused for a moment, as if he were about to give them an order-send them to bed, perhaps, or back to the library to do more research. The moment passed, and a look of puzzlement crossed his face. "Blast it, I can't remember what I was going to say," he announced, and vanished into the kitchen. — Cassandra Clare

Luisa was on her knees on the bed, naked, my 9mm in her hands and aimed right at me. I automatically had my gun pointed back at her. The sexiest Mexican standoff I'd ever been involved in. "What are you doing?" I asked, taking a cautious step toward her, not lowering my gun for a second. "Leaving," she answered, her eyes hard. She was distracting as all hell, her tits and pussy and that gun. I don't think I'd ever been so turned on so quick and in such an untimely situation. "It doesn't look like it." "I'm going to ask you nicely to let me leave, and if you don't, I'll shoot you." A grin broke out across my face. My god, she couldn't be more perfect. "If you shot me, you'd kill me," I said, taking another step. "Then who would make you come all the time? — Karina Halle

Whiskey was still looking some place past Patrick's shoulder, and suddenly his brown eyes met
Patrick's with a sort of inscrutable intensity. Patrick, this isn't over, okay? You and me? You want to
stay here, you want to keep sleeping in my bed, that's fine. I like you there. You're warm and you're kind,
and it's comfortable, having you there. But I'm going to want you, and you're going to want me, and if you
don't want to follow through on that, that's fine too. But you'll need to decide which way you want it, and
you need to make it clear when you make your decision. I'm, like, twelve years older than you, and I don't
sleep around. I'm not going to hit on you just because you're cute and you're here. I need to know it's
something you want, and it's something you need, and you're not just doing it because you think you need
to put out because I'm being human to you. You don't. All you need to do is be human back. — Amy Lane

Listen, I know you just got back, and you're exhausted, but I need a favor."
Not again ... I was looking forward to going home and sleeping for a day, or several. "I have a date tonight?"
"A date?" He choked.
I didn't date, and he knew it. "Yeah, with my bed. We were totally going to sleep together." I said sarcastically. — Sophie Monroe

I'm already scared out of my mind, mumbled Caitlyn as Meredith closed the bathroom door. She sat back down on the bed and pulled her legs into her chest, wondering if her crazy grandmother was going to come walking through that door naked, or worse, crawling around and pretending to howl at the moon. The thought sent a chill down her spine and tears to her eyes. — Kristen Middleton

Anyone can write a story based on the kind of horror where you see a guy in car and then there's the bad guy in the back seat. It's infantile to rely on that for telling a story. That's like going to bed and thinking there's a monster under your bed. It's silly. — Sergio Aragones

When were you in Christian's bed," Ryodan says softly.
I gape. "Dude, you got a serious case of selective hearing, the kind that bleeps out all the important stuff! Who cares when I was in his stupid bed? How the feck did you kill Velvet? You been holding out on me! You need to learn to share your weapons!"
"When."
There's something in the way he utters that single word that makes me shiver, and I'm hard to rattle. "So, I didn't change in a convenience store! So, shoot me. I need my sword. What're are you going to do to get it back?"
I've never seen Ryodan's face go so smooth. It's like it got iced blank of all expression. I've never heard him talk so soft and silky either. "Take her back to Chester's and lock her down. I'll get the sword. — Karen Marie Moning

It had been over fives years since they'd last been together. They talked and held one another and cried, all knowing in the back of their minds that they could sit on this bed for twenty years, for fifty, but it wouldn't matter. There would be no real catching up, no recovery of lost time, no understanding of the damage the separation had caused. They were different people now
haunted, ridden with scars and nightmares. There was no going back to that stormy July night in Ajo, Arizona. That Innis family was gone, and they would have to find themselves and one another again, start over, and pray that somehow the pieces fit back together. — Blake Crouch

Whoa, son," said Atticus. "Nobody's about to make you go anywhere but to bed pretty soon. I'm just going over to tell Miss Rachel you're here and ask her if you could spend the night with us - you'd like that, wouldn't you? And for goodness' sake put some of the county back where it belongs, the soil erosion's bad enough as it is." Dill stared at my father's retreating figure. "He's tryin' to be funny," I said. "He means take a bath. See there, I told you he wouldn't bother you. — Harper Lee

He moved into the moonlight. That was no accident. He wanted me to see his eyes burning with fever, his skin flushed, hair sweat soaked. He wanted me to say, "Oh, you're Changing," leap out of bed, and insist on going outside with him, help him through it, a I had the last two times.
I looked at him and I lay back down.
He stepped froward. "Chloe.."
"What?"
"It's ... It's starting again."
"I see that."
I sat up, swung my legs out of bed, and stood. He breathed a sigh of relief. I walked to the window.
"Head down that path about thirty feet, and you'll find a clearing to the left. That should be a good place."
A spark of panic ignited in his eyes. After how he'd treated me today, I should have said "good." But i didn't. Couldn't. It took everything I had to just crawl back into bed. — Kelley Armstrong

Jim eyed me for a couple of seconds, then got off the bed and went to curl up on the pile of blankets I'd
arranged as its bed. "I don't suppose you'd care to lend me a couple hundred euros?"
I pointed at the wall. It turned its back to me so I could get into the nightgown Perdita had lent me. "You
are not going to bet on me. Or against me. No betting whatsoever.
Got that?"
Jim huffed and settled down for the night. "You sure do know how to take all the fun out of life. Bet you
even made Drake use a condom. — Katie MacAlister

Now he got out of bed and wrapped his blanket around himself, yawning. That evening, he'd talk to Jude. He didn't know where he was going, but he knew he would be safe; he would keep them both safe. He went to the kitchen to make himself coffee, and as he did, he whispered the lines back to himself, those lines he thought of whenever he was coming home, coming back to Greene Street after a long time away - "And tell me this: I must be absolutely sure. This place I've reached, is it truly Ithaca?"- as all around him, the apartment filled with light. — Hanya Yanagihara

No trouble at all. Mother's gone back to bed, and she won't be doing any cooking - I was only going to set out some cold cuts and make some coffee. If that's all right with you." "Well - — Robert Bloch

Oh man." Ben scooted back up the bed to lie next to Maddox. "That was seriously hot." "Yeah, it was." Maddox was sure his smile was all kinds of dopey. "If I kiss you, you going to freak at the taste of spunk?" Ben laughed, mouth hovering over Maddox's. "Nope," Maddox pulled him down for a leisurely kiss. — Annabeth Albert

-NONREADING-


Bookstores don't provide
a remote control for Proust,
you can't switch
to a soccer match,
or a quiz show, win a Cadillac.


We live longer
but less precisely
and in shorter sentences.


We travel faster, farther, more often,
but bring back slides instead of memories.
Here I am with some guy.
There I guess that's my ex.
Here everyone's naked
so this must be a beach.


Seven volumes - mercy.
Couldn't it be cut or summarized,
or better yet put into pictures.
There was that series called "The Doll,"
but my sister-in-law says that's some other P.*


And by the way, who was he anyway.
They say he wrote in bed for years on end.
Page after page
at a snail's pace.
But we're still going in fifth gear
and, knock on wood, never better. — Wislawa Szymborska

I'm going back to bed. And when I wake up maybe that ugly girl will be gone. — Amanda Grace

Sitting on the train I watch the scenery speeding by, notice a cobweb in the top corner of the window, undulating with a gentle breeze I can't feel. I lean back in my seat and take my book out of the carrier bag. Turning it over in my hand, it feels warm. It feels how I want to feel; full of knowledge, full of the future.
The time I've spent staying in bed smoking dope I've been hibernating, recuperating and gaining strength. I'm weak socially, but being away from other drug users has made me resilient. It's allowed my mind and body to heal and mend. As if the winter is over, I've come out stronger now. I'm on my own. I have the choice of what to do with my life.
I'm going to stay clean. I'm going to be the woman I can be. — Christine Lewry