Hand Gesture Quotes & Sayings

Of the myriad impressive notables related to Dio's passing, perhaps foremost is the fact the man was 67 years old and was still making quality hard rock records, still touring with a new (old) version of Black Sabbath, still singing his absolute heart out about dragons and rainbows, making the infamous devil horns hand gesture he swiped from his Italian grandmother and which has since became the universal, undeniable, completely badass symbol for true metal across all galaxies everywhere, and for which Dio deserves to be ensconced in the heavens forevermore. — Mark Morford

Giffen's large hand is cupping my chin as he kneels in front of my jump seat. "Kricket," he says while shaking my head to try to get a response from me. Groaning, I mutter, "Are you really shaking my head right now? It already hurts like a spix kicked it, so stop!" "Getting in touch with your spirit animal, were you?" His question is flippant, but there's relief in his tone that he can't hide. "Yeah, it said to give you this." I raise my middle finger at him. He stares at it, because the gesture means nothing to him. "I should take your finger?" he asks. "I hate you,"
Bartol, Amy A. (2015-03-31). Sea of Stars (The Kricket Series Book 2) (p. 285). 47North. Kindle Edition. — Amy A. Bartol

To grasp the truth is a delicate gesture, like taking a hand in greeting, a lightness of touch is needed if one is to feel the presence of another being. — Susan Griffin

I started my illustrious career with a pitchfork in my hand and saddle soap in my pocket.
Idly he tugged a white blossom from the vine, tucked it into her hair. The gesture flustered her-the easy charm of it-and made her remember they were walking in the moonlight, among the flowers.
Not,she reminded herself, a good idea. — Nora Roberts

At the fourth flight Lila did something unexpected. She stopped to wait for me, and when I reached her she gave me her hand. This gesture changed everything between us forever. — Elena Ferrante

And then, abruptly, the memory of his dead wife returned to him, and probably thinking it too complicated to inquire into how, at such a time, he could have allowed himself to be carried away by an impulse of happiness, he confined himself to a gesture which he habitually employed whenever any perplexing question came into his mind: that is, he passed his hand across his forehead, dried his eyes, and wiped his glasses. And he — Marcel Proust

Sharon dropped to her knees and reached her hand over the edge. The gesture was supposed to be a sign of support. But she realized then that it was useless. His insanity was like the stream beneath the ground. It only flowed in one direction, into deeper and deeper darkness. She was going to lose him. — Christopher Pike

Certain directors and actors were constantly preoccupied by one problem, and apparently, one only. This was connected with the so-called German greeting, which was the method of hailing a friend by raising the right arm straight out with the hand extended at, or slightly above, the level of the shoulder. This greeting had very definite political implications; it was employed daily by millions; and the directors and actors saw no reason why it should not be one on the films in a simple and life-like fashion. They failed. Even when shown in the rushes the effect on the select and professional audience was simply to produce uncontrollable hilarity. The cinema can do a great deal. It can entrance, t can tell fairy tales, it can be realistic or surrealistic -- but it cannot portray a gesture that is false without underlining the most brutal way its basic falseness. The German cinema could not reproduce the German greeting; it was the greeting that was to blame, not the cinema. — Ernst Von Salomon

I'm over a thousand years old. I've seen it all. You, sweetcheeks, are nothing new." At what must have been an outraged expression on her face, he laughed again. "Come on. Surely you can't think you are the only female out there who's had a rough life, had her heart walked on, been kept in a dungeon for three centuries, blah, blah, pick your trauma, and are now stomping around with all this pent-up anger you spill like acid on everyone who gets to know you." He narrowed his gaze at her. "How close am I?"
Sin's mouth worked, but nothing came out. She finally snapped it shut to avoid looking like a fish gasping on the bank of a river.
"That's what I thought." He made a shooing gesture with his hand. "No, run along and go be caustic with someone who cares. Oh, wait, no one cares, do they? Because you won't let them
— Larissa Ione

Right after winning the Oscar, when everyone was going home, they let these little gold Oscary shapes flutter down from the ceiling. Leonardo DiCaprio came over, bowed down, and kissed my hand. It was the most fabulous moment - such a lovely gesture. He didn't say anything. — Helen Mirren

You are so full of light," I say after a moment. "You align with joy, and I with fear and fury. If you could see into my thoughts, you would surely turn away. So why would you stay with me, even if return to Kenettra and resume our lives?"

"You paint me as a saint," he murmurs. "But I aligned with greed solely to prevent that."

Even now, he can make my lips twitch with a smile. "I'm serious, Magiano."

"As am I. None of us are saints. I have seen your darkness, yes, and know your struggle. I won't deny it." He touches my chin with one hand. At this gesture, the whispers seem to settle, pushed away where I can't hear them. "But you are also passionate and ambitious and loyal. You are a thousand things, mi Adelinetta, not just one. Do not reduce yourself to that. — Marie Lu

Ascension seemed at such times a natural law. If one added to it a law of completion - that everything must finally be made comprehensible - then some general rescue of the sort I imagined my aunt to have undertaken would be inevitable. For why do our thoughts turn to some gesture of a hand, the fall of a sleeve, some corner of a room on a particular anonymous afternoon, even when we are asleep, and even when we are so old that our thoughts have abandoned other business? What are all these fragments for , if not to be knit up finally? — Marilynne Robinson

She reached out, found Eli's hand, brought it to her lips in a gesture Sophia had never seen her
make — Nora Roberts

And how is the expectant mother? You mustn't tax yourself, you know.I don't want my nephew born early enough to raise eyebrows."
Gideon laid his hand in the small of her back in a protective gesture she knew all too well. "Are you implying that I'm the kind of man who'd allow his wife to tax herself?"
"If the shoe fits-"
"Behave, both of you," she admonished as Gideon bristled and Jordan glared. "I swear, when you two get near each other, you act like school boys fighting over a half-pence."
"Oh, you're much more valuable than a half-pence," Jordan retorted. Before Gideon could say anything to that, he added, "And in any case, I didn't come over here to anger you, moppet. I merey wanted to let you know I'm leaving."
"Good," Gideon mumbled under his breath. — Sabrina Jeffries

In America, Rousseauism has turned Freud's conflict-based psychoanalysis into weepy hand-holding. Contemporary liberalism is untruthful about cosmic realities. Therapy, defining anger and hostility in merely personal terms, seeks to cure what was never a problem before Rousseau. Mediterranean, as well as African-American, culture has a lavish system of language and gesture to channel and express negative emotion. Rousseauists who take the Utopian view of personality are always distressed or depressed over world outbreaks of violence and anarchy. But because, as a Sadean, I believe history is in nature and of it, I tend to be far more cheerful and optimistic than my liberal friends. Despite crime's omnipresence, things work in society, because biology compels it. Order eventually restores itself, by psychic equilibrium. Films like Seven Samurai (1954) and Two Women (1961) accurately show the breakdown of social controls as a regression to animal-like squalor. — Camille Paglia

Hey." [Leo] squeezed her hand, though Hazel sensed nothing romantic in the gesture. "Machines are designed to work."
"Uh, what?"
"I figure the universe is basically like a machine. I don't know who made it, if it was the Fates, or the gods, or capital-G God, or whatever. But it chugs along the way it's supposed to most of the time. Sure, little pieces break and stuff goes haywire once in a while, but mostly ... things happen for a reason. Like you and me meeting."
"Leo Valdez," Hazel marveled, "you're a philosopher. — Rick Riordan

Madam Li nods. She reaches over the table for Chinatsu's hand. It would look like a gesture of sympathy for a friend. Chinatsu uncurls her right hand and allows the money to be retrieved. The initial wedge of money that Madam Li takes now is more than she ever takes later on. It almost entirely depletes the stash of money she's been saving for years. The woman's magician-eyes are framed by the steam snaking from their tea. Cat-green, they are striking and marred by yellow jelly spots in the whites.
'You no drink you no eat. What you, pregnant?'
'Would I be here?'
Madam Li screws her chin back into her neck. The chair creaks as she sits back, spine straight. 'Well, if you not going eat drink speaking truth, fuck off.'
Chinatsu's eyebrows flick up. She bursts out laughing. — Sarah Dobbs

Boris laughed, and threw out some fake-looking gang sign. "Suit yourself, yo," he said, in his "gangsta" voice (discernible from his regular voice only by the hand gesture and the "yo") as he got up and roll-walked out. "Nigga gotz to eat. — Donna Tartt

No art is any good unless you can feel how it's put together. By and large it's the eye, the hand and if it's any good, you feel the body. Most of the best stuff seems to be a complete gesture, the totality of the artist's body; you can really lean on it. — Frank Stella

was starting to raise my hand in a thumbs-down gesture, so he said, "Okay, okay! If we don't drink blood, we look really pale. Regardless of our ethnicity or geographic location or exposure to the sun. And we feel cold to the touch." He paused and looked down at me in exasperation. "I am seriously trying here. Every instinct I have is telling me to use polysyllabic words to impress you. — Temple West

The painting is always conceived as the linear record of a rhythmic gesture: it is a graph of a dance executed by the hand. Not only the artist's eye and hand perform this dance, so does the eye of the beholder. — Roger Fry

I used to go and do some sitting in with Robert Nighthawk when he were playing at the 708 Club in Chicago. He was a tremendous slideman. I never saw him do anything other than play the slide. I never just saw him just use his hand. He always used a slide. He had a little-bitty drummer we called "Shorty". He was about that high [hand gesture]. And he was his drummer. That's all he had was a slide guitar and a drummer. — Junior Wells

Crooked Warden, I will fear no darkness for the night is yours," muttered Locke, pointing the first two fingers of his left hand into the darkness. The Dagger of the Thirteenth, a thief's gesture against evil. "Your night is my cloak, my shield, my escape from those who hunt to feed the noose. I will fear no evil, for you have made the night my friend."
"Bless the Benefactor," said Jean, squeezing Locke's left forearm. "Peace and profit to his children. — Scott Lynch

One of my best days was when I ... offered [chimp David Greybeard] fruit on my outstretched hand, and he turned his head away. I put my hand closer - and he took the fruit, dropped it, and gently squeezed my hand, which is a chimp reassurance gesture ... We communicated perfectly in a language that predates words. — Jane Goodall

As a relentless gatherer of moments, I find that my favorite images, although grounded in the present, are like spirits shaped by memories. They whisper of fairy tales, poetry, and other lives, as each gesture connects with another and raises yet another from the dead. Shadows flicker on film to an inner melody as I navigate, camera at hand and at the speed of light, through unimaginable worlds - desperately trying to make sense of the joy and suffering before it all disappears. — Sylvia Plachy

I made a seesaw gesture with my hand. — Stephen King

This is what we, in the con business, call making a spectacle of ourselves. Let's try to avoid that from now on."
"Except [ ... ] Mr. No-Sex-in-the-Bathrooms is going to describe two probably drunk people who staggered in. Plus, he thinks I'm a prostitute. We can double down on that by ... " She stopped him, glancing back into the store throught the big plate-glass windows. Ian looked, too, and sure enough, the clerk was still watching them warily.
"Perfect, she said, and the made what was, absolutely, the international two-handed gesture for sexual intercourse. She then added a couple of exaggerated hip thrusts, saying, "I want to make this absolutely clear, because this guy's kind of an idiot." She then rubbed her fingers together, after which she held out her hand, palm up, as if to say Pay me.
Ian cracked up. "That's actually kind of scary. Sex with a mime. Do I have to pay extra to make sure you don't do the trapped-in-a-box thing while we're doing it? — Suzanne Brockmann

Here was a manifestation of a huge, historic British folly, repeated over many centuries including the twenty-first: the adoption of gesture strategy, committing small forces as an earnest of good intentions, heedless of their gross inadequacy for the military purpose at hand. — Max Hastings

There was laughter in his eyes now, competing with a dissolute, and altogether enthusiastic, invitation to pleasure.
In one swift gesture he turned her hand over and pressed a burning kiss on her palm, a touch so fast she didn't see it, though her hand curled instinctively, as if to protect the kiss itself. — Eloisa James

You're become a good friend, Arthur. I appreciate all you've done to help me since Warren's death. If we were to put the deeds of giving on a scale, your side would plunge downward compared to the paltry things I've done for you in return.'
She had no idea what she'd done for him, awakening him to love again, inspiring him to look beyond his own needs to someone else's. He started to tell her so, but she went on.
'But I can't look at years and weeks. I have to look at souls and sales. What would God have me view as the most valued?' She imitated the gesture he'd made earlier, raising one hand as high as her chin and lowering the other to midthigh. 'Souls, Arthur.' She balled the hand beside her leg into a tight fist, lifted it, and pressed it to her heart. 'Souls matter most. Even if it means I lose my mercantile - my home - I choose to love those children. — Kim Vogel Sawyer

He liked the way her hand felt in his, liked the simple intimacy of the gesture and the way it said - without the need for words - that they were together. — Julie James

That left Francesca to slink into the chair opposite us. My feeling of superiority was short-lived, however, when she settled herself down and then crossed her legs.
I didn't need a mirror to know my whole face had just turned red. With a hemline up to her thighs that gesture didn't leave anything to the imagination. Bones curled his fingers around mine and squeezed. His hand was still warmed from our contact moments ago. That's how fast he had to grab me again to keep me sitting where I was instead of yanking off my jacket to make her a pair of panties. — Jeaniene Frost

I miss him," she whispered, her voice cracking.
His heart constricted at the grief on her face. "I know, honey." He lifted a hand to stroke the soft waves of her hair. A soothing, reassuring gesture, but to him it meant so much more. His muscles knotted with the need to cup her face between his hands and kiss her the way he'd been dying to for so long. He wanted to kiss away the sadness and the grief, replace it with the heat and tenderness burning inside him. — Kaylea Cross

The viscountess had raised the forefinger of her right hand and made a pretty gesture toward a stool at her feet. There was such intense tyrannical passion in the gesture that the marquis relinquished the doorknob and came back. — Honore De Balzac

Never raise your hand menacingly, but only in a friendly gesture! — Sophie Von La Roche

I saw Four, Brandon's Garde, poking his head out from behind Brandon's back. He shyly put his hand out for Nine to take, inviting him to walk to pre-combat together. Seeing this, I hoped Nine would take Four's hand. It was a sweet gesture. — Pittacus Lore

His deeds and life are more important to me than his talk, the gesture of his hand is more important to me than his opinions. Not in speech or thought do I regard him as a great man, but in his deeds and life. — Hermann Hesse

This is insane. You realize that, right?"
"Only if someone gets hurt."
"Someone always gets hurt, Hayes."
He said nothing as he slid his fingers in between mine, squeezing my hand. The intimacy of the gesture threw me. I had not held a man's hand since Daniel's, and Hayes's felt foreign. Large, smooth, capable; the coolness of an unexpected ring.
I shifted in my skirt, legs sticking to the leather cushion. I needed to get out of there, and yet I did not want it to end. — Robinne Lee

She ran her gaze over his chest with frank appreciation. Then he shivered, realizing he hadn't really considered the weather. It was forty-five degrees max, but Chloe was giving him a go-on gesture with her hand. "All I have left is my pants," he said. "Yes, please." "It's cold, Chloe." She tilted her head. "Are you worried about shrinkage?" Well, he was now. -Chloe and Sawyer — Jill Shalvis

114I'll wager at the very end a body realizes the Lord has already shown Himself. That things as they are "
her hand circles in a gesture that gathers clouds and kites and grass and Queenie pawing earth over her bone
"just what they've always seen, was seeing Him. As for me, I could leave the world with today in my eyes."
This is our last Christmas together. Life separates us. — Truman Capote

I slid a hand down the rail to cover hers.
It was a simple gesture, but it was easily the greatest decision I'd ever made.
That one touched destroyed a wall.
I wasn't even sure whose wall it had been to begin with - hers or mine. But I would have spent my entire life tearing it down if I could have only predicted what was on the other side. — Aly Martinez

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it, a tender gesture that made her heart melt. Come. Let us dance the skies together. — C.L. Wilson

No one leaves his or her world without being transfixed by its roots, or with a vacuum for a soul. We carry with us the memory of many fabrics, a self soaked in our history, our culture; a memory, sometimes scattered, sometimes sharp and clear, of the streets of our childhood, of our adolescence; the reminiscence of something distant that suddenly stands out before us, in us, a shy gesture, an open hand, a smile lost in time and misunderstanding, a sentence, a simple sentence, possibly now forgotten by the one who said it. A word for so long a time attempted and never spoken, always stifled in inhibition, in the fear of being rejected- which as it implies a lack of confidence in ourselves, also means refusal to risk. — Paulo Freire

I withdrew back into the window frame. She took a hasty gulp from her glass and looked down at her lap. "I'm saying that this is what's it's like, when every man you kiss thinks he's unearthed you, and everyone has a role for you to play, the brave little refugee, the obedient daughter, the foreign girl with loose morals ... " Her hand made a quick mechanical gesture. "You do what you can with that. You can't stop life from happening, can you? You don't get to choose what parts you get. So you take your opportunities. You use the means available to you. Your life becomes something that takes you further and further away from yourself. It sounds cynical, I know. It is cynical. — Paul Murray

He walked among the bookstore shelves, hearing Muzak in the air. There were rows of handsome covers, prosperous and assured. He felt a fine excitement, hefting a new book, fitting hand over sleek spine, seeing lines of type jitter past his thumb as he let the pages fall. He was a young man, shrewd in his fervors, who knew there were books he wanted to read and others he absolutely had to own, the ones that gesture in special ways, that have a rareness or daring, a charge of heat that stains the air around them. — Don DeLillo

Go to sleep, he says softly. His hand brushes the lose strands of my hair off my forehead. Unlike the staged kisses and caresses so far, this gesture seems natural and comforting. I don't want him to stop and he doesn't. He's still stroking my hair when I fall asleep. — Suzanne Collins

...holding your hand out and making a gesture that, in the surreal parrallel universe of the classroom would suggest that instruction, but anywhere else would be taken for a drunkard's poorly achieved impression of an epileptic spider failing to negotiate a hairpin bend. — Phil Beadle

This pointing-hand gesture - with its index finger and thumb extended upward - is a well-known symbol of the Ancient Mysteries, and it appears all over the world in ancient art. This same gesture appears in three of Leonardo da Vinci's most famous encoded masterpieces - The Last Supper, Adoration of the Magi, and Saint John the Baptist. It's a symbol of man's mystical connection to God." As above, so below. The madman's bizarre choice of words was starting to feel more relevant now. "I've never seen it before," Sato said. Then watch ESPN, Langdon thought, always amused to see professional athletes point skyward in gratitude to God after a touchdown or home run. He wondered how many knew they were continuing a pre-Christian mystical tradition of acknowledging the mystical power above, which, for one brief moment, had transformed them into a god capable of miraculous feats. — Dan Brown

In a gesture of socialist support, the Dear Leader placed his hand upon her. — Adam Johnson

You don't like romantic shit," Luke remarks and frowns at me.
"I don't like watching you lay the romantic shit on my best friend, pal. It's disgusting. This," I gesture around the room with my hands, "is not a movie. But I do like watching Zac Efron, Channing Tatum, and a number of other hot actors lay on the romantic shit in a movie. I have a vagina."
"I'm aware," Luke remarks earning a glare from Nate. "Although, not first-hand," he quickly adds. — Kristen Proby

You and your scars. Please! You don't kill youself like this!" I gesture, holding a wrist turned up to the ceiling, then pretending to cut across it with my other hand. "That's just a cry for help. That's just attention. Everbody knows that. Cutting across just gets you to the hospital. That's just from movies and TV shows and stuff like that. You didn't really try to kill yourself. you just wanted attention, but you screwed up. Try harder next time. — Barry Lyga

The two women sat by the fire, tilting their glasses and drinking in small peaceful sips. The lamplight shone upon the tidy room and the polished table, lighting topaz in the dandelion wine, spilling pools of crimson through the flanks of the bottle of plum gin. It shone on the contented drinkers, and threw their large, close-at-hand shadows upon the wall. When Mrs Leak smoothed her apron the shadow solemnified the gesture as though she were moulding an universe. Laura's nose and chin were defined as sharply as the peaks peaks on a holly leaf. — Sylvia Townsend Warner

-flashed Langdon the thumbs-up
sign. Langdon smiled weakly and returned the gesture, wondering if she knew it was the ancient phallic
symbol for masculine virility. — Dan Brown

Ico took the girls hand in his own, the gesture feeling intensely familiar, as the sun shone brightly over the end of their long story. — Miyuki Miyabe

Her outflung hand turned over in the air. The gesture it described was infinitesimal, but it made Corrie draw in his breath and for the first time consider the possibility that perhaps the final emotion he might feel for his wife was hate. -Life Sentence — Rebecca West

Cassie fumbled helplessly beneath the shade of the ancient oak, still searching for her second shoe.The first had been easy to find, having landed close to where she had kicked it off; and when her hand had finally encountered it, she clutched it to her breast in a gesture of smug triumph. For one brief moment, she felt a twinge of sympathy for the sighted people who would never experience such sweet victory from a task as simple as finding a shoe. — Melinda Cross

We walk up the sandy slope toward the dining terrace. I see Troy sitting at a table with some people I know. I look at Scottie to see if she sees him, and she is giving him the middle finger. The dining terrace gasps, but I realize it's because of the sunset and the green flash. We missed it. The flash flashed. The sun is gone, and the sky is pink. I reach to grab the offending hand, but instead, I correct her gesture.
"Here, Scottie. Don't let that finger stand by itself like that. Bring up the other fingers just a little bit. There you go. That's the cool way to do it."
Troy stares at us and smiles a bit. He's completely confused.
"All right, that's enough." I suddenly feel sorry for Troy. He must feel awful. — Kaui Hart Hemmings

I knew even before I had desire that it would be gnarled and knotted, black and hard, a tree that would never bear fruit, a fish that would never jump, a cat that would never meow. All my life, bitterness and regret, bitterness, and regret. "And yet," he said, briefly closing his eyes, "I was able to imagine the softness and sweetness of love, for a time." He rested his head upon his right hand, in a gesture worthy of a classical actor, and everyone in the Teatro Barbarossa heard his breathing. — Mark Helprin

Charlus takes the narrator's chin and slides his magnetized fingers up to the ears "like a barber's fingers." This trivial gesture, which I begin, is continued by another part of myself; without anything interrupting it physically, it branches off, shifts from a simple function to a dazzling meaning, that of the demand for love. Meaning (destiny) electrifies my hand: I am about to tear open the other's opaque body, oblige the other (whether there is a response, a withdrawal, or mere acceptance) to enter into the interplay of meaning: I am about to make the other speak. In the lover's realm, there is no acting out: no propulsion, perhaps even no pleasure
nothing but signs, a frenzied activity of language: to institute, on each furtive occasion, the system (the paradigm) of demand and response. — Roland Barthes

I don't think some athletes understand how big it is to be an athlete, what they can do with just a simple gesture of shaking a kid's hand. It can make a fan's day. It can make a fan's life. — Matt Kemp

"My Peregrination Cap," he grumbles, straightening his tie and vest while wavering on wobbly legs.
I gesture to the layer of moths crawling around on Gizmo's roof. "We lost a few of them to the wind. Sorry."
"Brilliant." Scowling, Morpheus walks over and sweeps his hand across the insects, coaxing them to form the hat. They manage all but the brim. He puts it on anyway and turns to me.
I bite my cheeks in an effort not to laugh.
He narrows his eyes. "Don't get too cheeky, little plum. Though your prank may have been irresistibly wicked, I'm still in the lead by a set of wings." — A.G. Howard

Why, I ask, can I not finish the letter that I am writing? For my room is always scattered with unfinished letters. I begin to suspect, when I am with you, that I am among the most gifted of men. I am filled with the delight of youth, with potency, with the sense of what is to come. blundering, but fervid, I see myself buzzing round flowers, humming down scarlet cups, making blue funnels resound with my prodigious booming. How richly I shall enjoy my youth (you make me feel). And London. And freedom. But stop. You are not listening. You are making some protest, as you slide, with an inexpressibly familiar gesture, your hand along your knee. By such signs we diagnose our friends' diseases. "Do not, in your affluence and plenty," you seem to say, "pass me by." "Stop," you say. "Ask me what I suffer. — Virginia Woolf

Thanks. I forgot how to flip off the English. I'll use the correct hand gesture next time."
"My pleasure. Always happy to educate. — Stephanie Perkins

Nicolas walked toward him. Ignoring the presence of the others nearby, he took Julien's chin in his hand and kissed him tenderly on the lips. Julien seemed chagrined at first, and then accepted the gesture. It was sweet, and had the air of a couple that had been together for a great long time.
Maric glanced away, embarrased by the intimacy, not to mention the fact that he hadn't quite realized the nature of the two warriors' relationship ealier. Not just comrades, then, and far more than close friend. The older Grey Wardens seemed unsurprised. — David Gaider

I feel overawed by quantity where counting no longer makes sense. By unrepeatability within such a quantity. By creatures of nature gathered in herds, droves, species, in which each individual, while subservient to the mass, retains some distinguishing features. A crowd of people, birds, insects, or leaves is a mysterious assemblage of variants of certain prototype. A riddle of nature's abhorrence of exact repetition or inability to produce it. Just as the human hand cannot repeat its own gesture, I invoke this disturbing law, switching my own immobile herds into that rhythm. — Magdalena Abakanowicz

I can find another maid; I cannot find another Sophie. If being a Shadowhunter was what you wanted, my girl, I wish you had spoken. I could have gone to the Consul before I was at odds with him. Still, when we return-'
She broke off, and Cecily heard the words beneath the words: If we return.
'When we return, I will put you forward for Acension,' Charlotte finished.
'I will speak out for her aswell,' Gideon said. 'After all, I have my father's place on the Council-his friends will listen to me; they still owe loyalty to our family-and besides, how else can we be married?'
'What'? said Gabriel with a wild hand gesture that accidentally flipped the nearest plate on the floor, where it shattered.
'Married?' said Henry. 'You're marrying your father's friends on the Council? Which of them? — Cassandra Clare

If every day you were to walk past the same individual and ignore him, never smiling or saying hello or returning any kind gesture he extended toward you, would you expect that same individual to readily respond if suddenly you were to implore his helping hand? Then don't ignore God. Say 'hello' now and then. — Richelle E. Goodrich

My response came without thinking. I made a gesture that said, I know. I believe you. And when he held out his hand to help me up the bank, I took it without flinching, as I had done once before in a torrential downpour, when that hand had been my only grip on reality in a flight from death. I trusted him. He was a Briton, and I trusted him. — Juliet Marillier

Your witness," the attorney snapped to Roark. "No questions," said Roark. Dominique left the stand. The attorney bowed to the bench and said: "The plaintiff rests." The judge turned to Roark and made a vague gesture, inviting him to proceed. Roark got up and walked to the bench, the brown envelope in hand. He took out of the envelope ten photographs of the Stoddard Temple and laid them on the judge's desk. He said: "The defense rests. — Ayn Rand

Then something unexpected happens. At least, I don't expect it because I don't think of District 12 as a place that cares about me. But a shift has occurred since I stepped up to take Prim's place, and now it seems I have become someone precious. At first one, then another, then almost every member of the crowd touches the three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips and holds it out to me. It is an old and rarely used gesture of our district, occasionally seen at funerals. It means thanks, it means admiration, it means good-bye to someone you love. — Suzanne Collins

He pondered that a little while and then he asked, do Black people have to pay for their doctors, too? Because that's what TV programs had said. I smiled a little at this and told him it's not only Black people who have to pay for doctors and medical care; all people in America have to. Ah, he said. And suppose you don't have the money to pay? Well, I said, if you don't have the money to pay, sometimes you died. And there was no mistaking my gesture, even though he had to wait for the translator to translate it. We left him looking absolutely nonplussed, standing in the middle of the square with his mouth open and his hand under his chin staring after me, as in utter amazement that human beings could die from lack of medical care. It's things like that that keep me dreaming about Russia long after I've returned. — Audre Lorde

Saint-Just read for the next two hours his report on the plots of the Dantonist faction. He had imagined, when he wrote it, that he had the accused man before him; he had not amended it. If Danton were really before him, this reading would be punctuated by the roars of his supporters from the galleries, by his own self-justificatory roaring; but Saint-Just addressed the air, and there was a silence, which deepened and fed on itself. He read without passion, almost without inflection, his eyes on the papers that he held in his left hand. Occasionally he would raise his right arm, then let it fall limply by his side: this was his only gesture, a staid, mechanical one. Once, towards the end, he raised his young face to his audience and spoke directly to them: "After this," he promised, "there will be only patriots left. — Hilary Mantel

Behold." Magiano spreads his arms in a gesture of pretend triumph. "Revel in its majesty."
I wrinkle my nose. "Are you trying to impress me with a collapsed archway?"
"No faith. No faith at all." He is back to his old self, and it sends a rare thread of joy through my heart. "Follow me," he murmurs. Then he takes a deep breath and dives down, grabbing my hand as he descends. — Marie Lu

As Harold took a bite of Bavarian Sugar cookie, he finally felt as if everything was going to be okay. Sometimes, when we lose ourselves in fear and despair, in routine and constancy, in hopelessness and tragedy ... there are Bavarian Sugar cookies. And, fortunately, when there aren't any cookies we can still find reassurance in a familiar hand on our skin ... or a kind and loving gesture ... or a subtle encouragement ... or a loving embrace ... or an offer of comfort ...
And we must remember that all these things, the nuances, the anomalies, the subtleties which we assume only accessorize our days, are in fact here for a much nobler and larger cause. They are here to save our lives. — Zach Helm

A single smile from her could make his entire being burn. One touch from her hand and he was undone. It was terrifying to think of how much power this one person had over him. How one single gesture from her could affect him so profoundly. (Sin thinking about Kat) — Sherrilyn Kenyon

Gabe?"
Our eyes met in the rearview mirror. "Thank you. For getting us out of there."
Gabe laid a hand over his heart in a gesture that would have meant "You're welcome" or even "I love you. — Corrine Jackson

When you saw me with a dagger in hand - as if to throw at you - you didn't call for your guards. You didn't fear I was here to kill you. You looked over your shoulder to see what I was aiming at. That's the most loving gesture I think a man could receive from a woman. Unless you'd like to sit on my knee for a while ... — Robert Jordan

Parvati took his hand. It was such a strange, unexpected gesture that he just blinked and stared at it.
"I'll protect you. — Sarwat Chadda

Okay, stud, just one more question." She formed an L with her thumb and index finger. 'Why are some people in the audience holding the sign for "loser"?'
It was my turn to laugh at her. 'That's not for loser.' I set down my soda, mirrored her gesture with my hand, then straightened our pinkies to form the sign-language letter. 'The L stands for "love". — Jeri Smith-Ready

I stood with my arms crossed, scanning the crowd. My eyes hated on a very tall gorilla looking in our direction. He bore a red badge on his furry chest. I had no idea how long we stared at each other, unmoving, before I lifted one hand in a wave.
"Who are you waving at?" Veronica asked me.
"Um, that big monkey. I think he's starting at ... us."
And at that moment, the gorilla lfited an arm and scratched his armpit. The silly gesture filled me with a rush of joy. But I wasn't going to him.
I faced my friends, chewing my thumbnail. Please come over. When I glanced again, he was walking our way. Yes! My pulse went erratic. — Wendy Higgins

She brought the bite to her mouth and chewed slowly, as if savoring the sweet. But he knew better. She was stalling. Using the tart as an excuse to occupy her mouth so she couldn't answer his questions. Darius tugged her plate out of reach before she could stab a second bite. "Nicole." His use of her given name had the desired effect. Her chin jerked up and her eyes widened as she scanned his face. "Your safety is not a trifling matter." The urge to cover her hand with his speared through him, but he resisted, not knowing how she'd interpret such a gesture. Unsure, as well, how he'd want her to interpret it. "While you are at Oakhaven, you are under my protection. Whatever you are running away from - " "I'm not running away." Her eyes sparked, and she visibly bristled as if he'd offended her. "I'm simply taking care of an . . . an errand for my father. It requires a bit of secrecy, is all, and there are competitors who wish to . . . interfere. — Karen Witemeyer

He reached out, capturing her hand in his. He laced his fingers casually through hers.
Violet leaned against him and the calm finally came, settling over her peacefully.
And then he kissed her. Gently. Softly. Not on the lips, as she'd imagined so many times before, but on her forehead.
The gesture was sweet and a little possessive.
Violet hoped, maybe, it was a start. — Kimberly Derting

He flexed his fingers and fought the urge to put his hand on her stomach. It was a possessive
gesture, and he felt a little bit possessive — Maisey Yates

Standing alone at the railing is Four. Though he's not an initiate anymore, most of the Dauntless use this day to come together with their families. Either his family doesn't like to come together, or he wasn't originally a Dauntless. Which faction could he have come from? "There's one of my instructors." I lean closer to say. "He's kind of intimidating." "He's handsome," she says. I find myself nodding without thinking. She laughs and lifts her arm from my shoulders. I want to steer her away from him, but just as I'm about to suggest that we go somewhere else, he looks over his shoulder. His eyes widen at the sight of my mother. She offers him her hand. "Hello. My name is Natalie," she says. "I'm Beatrice's mother." I have never seen my mother shake hands with someone. Four eases his hand into hers, looking stiff, and shakes it twice. The gesture looks unnatural for both of them. No, Four was not originally Dauntless if he doesn't shake hands easily. — Veronica Roth

The real master is only a presence. He has no intentions of being a master. His presence is his teaching. His love is his message. Every gesture of his hand is pointing to the moon. And this whole thing is not being done, it is a happening. The master is not a doer. He has learned the greatest secret of life: let-go. The master has drowned his ego and the idea of separation from existence itself. — Rajneesh

No one goes anywhere alone, least of all into exile - not even those who arrive physically alone, unaccompanied by family, spouse, children, parents, or siblings. No one leaves his or her world without having been transfixed by its roots, or with a vacuum for a soul. We carry with us the memory of many fabrics, a self soaked in our history, our culture; a memory, sometimes scattered, sometimes sharp and clear, of the streets of our childhood, of our adolescence; the reminiscence of something distant that suddenly stands out before us, in us, a shy gesture, an open hand, a smile lost in a time of misunderstanding, a sentence, a simple sentence possibly now forgotten by the one who had said it. — Paulo Freire

He was silent a moment. Then he said, "We need you. That's what's important. The rest is titles." Gently, he took my hand in his own. It wasn't a romantic gesture; it was deeper than that. We — Jessica Cluess

There are two types of shot. The first is the shot made with great precision, but without any soul. In this case, although the archer may have a great mastery of technique, he has concentrated solely on the target and because of this he has not evolved, he has become stale, he has not managed to grow, and, one day, he will abandon the way of the bow because he finds that everything has become mere routine. The second type of shot is the one made with the soul. When the intention of the archer is transformed into the flight of the arrow, his hand opens at the right moment, the sound of the string makes the birds sing, and the gesture of shooting something over a distance provokes - paradoxically enough - a return to and an encounter with oneself. — Paulo Coelho

2:130
WHAT TO BEGIN NEXT

I can't decide what work, what study, to being next, among the several possible. If there is no spirit, no soul, no divine dimension or value, then whatever we do is just killing time, meaningless and idle. On the other hand, if God and the mystery of spirit overlap with this time and place in simultaneous layering, then anything we work on performs eternity and is the very motion of mystery. Each gesture and word and idea appears in this moment's presence and in the other as well. This is a great truth of being.

Whether a particular actions leads toward a future heaven or hell is not worth considering. Even when you will die is not important. Eternity creates itself at this point. This moment is where you grow nearer and nearer God. Time and the infinite curl together in every nick, touch, taw, tine, and root fiber. Here and now is where you can be shown the miracle of what continuously occurs. — Bahauddin

Artemis grit her teeth. "I need a favor. I have some hunting to do, alone. I need you to take my companions to Camp Half-Blood."
"Sure Sis!" then he raised his hands in a "stop everything" gesture. "I feel a haiku comIng on."
The Hunters all groaned. Apparently they'd met Apollo before.
He cleared his throat and held up one hand dramatically.
"Green grass breaks through snow.
Artemis pleads for my help.
I am so awesome. — Rick Riordan

The usual," said Ron indifferently, demonstrating a rude hand gesture. — J.K. Rowling

You may be right. I think it was round about Christmas when I got my Welsh dragon tattoo."
At that, Tessa had to try very hard not to blush. "How did that happen?"
Will made an airy gesture with his hand. "I was drunk ... "
"Nonsense. You were never really drunk."
"On the contrary - in order to learn how to pretend to be inebriated, once must become inebriated at least once, as a reference point. Six-Fingered Nigel had been at the mulled cider - "
"You can't mean there's truly a Six-Fingered Nigel? — Cassandra Clare

Through hand gestures was no easy business. A single gesture could have many different significations. Even the mano infica turned out to have three different interpretations: it could mean the subject was warding off evil, or dishing out an insult, or making a kind of offensive or impertinent invitation. — Ross King

If a leg goes bad, you cut it off." She made a firm gesture with the flat of her hand, then picked up her slice of pudding and began to eat it with her fingers. "And some folk need killing. That's all there is to it. — Patrick Rothfuss

Morley put his hand over his heart and bowed from the waist, a gesture that somehow reminded Claire of
Myrnin. It reminded her she missed him, too, which was just wrong. She should not be missing Morganville,
or anyone in it. Especially not the crazy boss vampire who'd put fang marks in her neck that would never,
ever go away. She was doomed to high-necked shirts because of him.
But she did miss him. — Rachel Caine

The ovarian world is the product of a life rhythm. The moment a child is born it becomes part of a world in which there is not only the life rhythm but the death rhythm. The frantic desire to live, to live at any cost, is not a result of the life rhythm in us, but of the death rhythm. There is not only no need to keep alive at any price, but, if life is undesirable, it is absolutely wrong. This keeping oneself alive, out of a blind urge to defeat death, is in itself a means of sowing death. Every one who has not fully accepted life, who is not incrementing life, is helping to fill the world with death. To make the simplest gesture with the hand can convey the utmost sense of life; a word spoken with the whole being can give life. Activity in itself means nothing: it is often a sign of death. — Henry Miller

His voice gave out and he made several wavy motions with his hand, indicative of the shape of a woman who would probably be unable to keep her balance. — Terry Pratchett

I have a hat for it, actually." Elliott made a vague gesture with one hand. "Well, it's more of a full-body suit, really."
"Is that a euphemism for a condom?"
"No." He marched past me and lay down on the bed. "My mother knitted me a willy-warmer a few years back when we were having a cold stretch. She felt I wasn't like to produce the grandchildren she desires if I had as she put it, frost-shriveled parts. — Katie MacAlister

She tried to open the bottle, but the top slipped through her fingers without moving. He took the bottle from her hand and opened it with his thumb and index finger. There was nothing special in the gesture and yet she found it strangely fascinating like a small heroic feat performed specially for her. — Paolo Giordano

If that's all you've got, I'm not too worried," he taunted me. I dipped my hand in the wet sand, grabbing a handful. I slowly raised it above his head threatening to release it. Before I even noticed, he caught my wrist and pulled it back down. Holding my eyes, he delicately threaded his fingers through mine, while the wet sand squished out. The gesture was somehow very intimate and a shiver ran down my spine. The wet sand ran down my arm but I didn't even notice. We stayed like that, hand in hand, facing the ocean for what seemed like hours. — Kristen Day