Hand Holding Hands Quotes & Sayings

It was very, very early in the morning. You were probably only just awake. Your mother was asleep in the corner. It was an exquisite morning. I was walking along wondering who it could be in a four-in-hand? It was a splendid set of four horses with bells, and in a second you flashed by, and I saw you at the window - you were sitting like this, holding the strings of your cap in both hands, and thinking awfully deeply about something," he said, smiling. "How I should like to know what you were thinking about then! Something important? — Leo Tolstoy

There are a lot of things that aren't fair, Aladdin."
She drew back from him, still holding his hands, and looked into his eyes.
"That's just the way life is- which is why it's so important for us Street Rats to take care of each other. That's a good instinct you have. You should always look out for your friends and your family. Because no one is looking out for us.
But that doesn't mean you should become a thief."
Aladdin looked at the ground, chagrined.
She put her hand under his chin to make him look up at her.
"Don't let life's unfairness, don't let how poor you are decide who you are. You choose who you will be, Aladdin. Will you be a hero who looks after the weak and powerless? Will you be a thief? Will you be a beggar- or worse? It's up to you, not the things-or people- around you. You can choose to be something more. — Liz Braswell

Curse false-hand-holding boys! — Lauren Myracle

He lay there and felt something and then her hand holding him and searching lower and he helped with his hands and then lay back in the dark and did not think at all and only felt the weight and the strangeness inside and she said, "Now you can't tell who is who can you?"
"No."
"You are changing," she said. "Oh you are. You are. Yes you are and you're my girl Catherine. Will you change and be my girl and let me take you?"
"You're Catherine."
"No. I'm Peter. You're my wonderful Catherine. You're my beautiful lovely Catherine. You were so good to change. Oh thank you, Catherine, so much. Please understand. Please know and understand. I'm going to make love to you forever. — Ernest Hemingway,

Her hand wandered under his shirt, feeling his rapid breath expand his ribs. She hesitated for a second - wondering what the chances were that either of her parents would come home early - then lifted his shirt with both hands, guiding it up his arms and over his head. It was her favourite indulgence; holding herself against his bare chest. — Aprilynne Pike

Shahara-"
"Zzzt," she said, holding her hand up. "Wasting time here. I won't even hear it. You go. I go. It's my sister's life on the line and I out-shoot and am pretty sure I outfight you, too." "I think we came up pretty even on that score." "But I am the better shot." He gave her a grudging glare. "I concede. However, I think I can take you when I'm sober." She took the bottle out of his hand. "Good. I'm going to throw this out." "Uh!" He reached for it. Shahara danced away from him and had the bottle upside down in the sink before he could catch her. He tried to get it out of her hands, but it was too late. "You are an evil, mean woman."

-Syn & Shahara — Sherrilyn Kenyon

I'm not sure how long we sit in Josh's truck, holding hands, surrounded by darkness and unspoken regrets. But it's long enough to know that there are no stories or secrets in the world worth holding onto more than his hand. — Katja Millay

I am very sorry, sir, but I cannot give you the Windsor crown," Rita said calmly. "I do not have it, and even if I did, it is not mine to give away."
"I don't know if you heard me correctly," the sergeant repeated, his words falling like bricks. "I said, hand it over."
Rita smiled serenely and stood, holding her thin hands clasped in front of her. Nora glanced up at her, a worried look in her eyes.
"Quite possibly it was you who did not understand my reply. I said, I am very sorry, but I am afraid I cannot give you the crown. But I can offer you a nice cup of tea, and I just baked a batch of cheddar scones."
A muffled snicker went through the room. I could even see Wesley, who stood by the door, trying not to smile. — Galaxy Craze

Give the girl some credit. At least she told you, instead of letting you figure it out on your own."
"Yeah, and she told me last!" Eve glared at the two boys, hands on her hips.
"Boyfriend," Shane said, holding up his hand.
"Landlord," Michael chimed in.
"Crap," Eve sighed. "I guess that does leave me in last place. — Rachel Caine

I do a little bit of hand-holding on the big cases. You know, like health care, I'll call over and say, "Don't worry. We've got it under control. We have the best people working on it. We're on schedule. Stay calm." So, those kinds of things. — Donald Verrilli Jr.

His hand glides down my arm, folds over my hand. His fingers lace with mine, palms kissing. I can feel the fast thud of his heart through this single touch. — Sophie Jordan

For now, he and Meg were going to have the adventure of seeing a new place and having a new experience. Together.
He wasn't human. Would never be human. And Meg didn't expect him to be. But feeling her hand in his, Simon thought maybe he could learn to be human enough. — Anne Bishop

I am bent over the desk, my breasts rubbing against the wood with every impact, and now my nipples are as tight and hard and sensitive as my clit. I'm awash in sensation, my entire body sparking like a live wire, and with the right touch, I know that I will shatter. I expect another smack, but this time his hands grab my hips instead. With his knee, he roughly shoves my legs apart. One hand comes down on my back, holding me in place over the desk. The other strokes my sex, opening me, readying me, though that is hardly necessary - as I am so ready for him to be inside me, I can hardly stand it. — J. Kenner

It was November, that quiet, gray time of the year when you feel like holding someone's hand. Gretel had her own hands clasped together, like a corpse. — Alice Hoffman

She dreamed she was back in that cell, fighting off the guard - Halmond - pulling back the knife to stab him. Only in the dream, he wrested it from her fingers and slammed it into her gut, and she gasped, her eyes closing and then opening to see, not Halmond holding the blade, but Gavril.
Moria shot upright, screaming, still feeling the agony of the blade buried in her gut, and then she saw Gavril, right there, his hands on her shoulders, saying her name. She fought wildly, half asleep, seeing Gavril's face in both dream and reality, his cold and empty expression as he plunged the blade in deeper, and then the other Gavril, his eyes wide with alarm, her name on his lips, his hand over her mouth to stifle her cries.
"It's all right," he said. "It's me. I'm here."
She kicked and clawed, biting his hand and struggling with everything she had while he fought to restrain her, muttering, "Not the right thing to say, apparently. — Kelley Armstrong

To expect happiness without giving up negative action is like holding your hand in a fire and hoping not to be burned. Of course, no one actually wants to suffer, to be sick, to be cold or hungry - but as long as we continue to indulge in wrong doing we will never put an end to suffering. Likewise, we will never achieve happiness, except through positive deeds, words, and thoughts. Positive action is something we have to cultivate ourselves; it can be neither bought nor stolen, and no one ever stumbles on it just by chance. — Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche

Beloved, whatever we are gripping to bring us satisfaction is a lie-unless it is Christ. He is the Truth that sets us free. If you are holding anything in your craving for satisfaction right now, would you be willing to acknowledge it as a lie? Even if you feel you can't let go of it right this moment, would you lift it before Him-perhaps literally lifting your fisted hand as a symbol-and confess it as an idol? God does not condemn you. He calls you. — Beth Moore

Isaiah grabs my hand and leads me away from the police ... My heart stutters. He's holding my hand. A guy is holding my hand. Touching it. Like his fingers entwined with mine. I've never held a guy's hand before and it feels good. So good. Warm. Strong. Awesome. And it would only be a million times better if the guy holding my hand liked me. — Katie McGarry

How shall I tell ye what it is, to feel the need of a place?" he said softly. "The need of snow beneath my shoon. The breath of the mountains, breathing their own breath in my nostrils as God gave breath to Adam. The scrape of rock under my hand, climbing, and the sight of the lichens on it, enduring in the sun and the wind."

His breath was gone and he breathed again, taking mine. His hands were linked behind mv head, holding me, face-to-face.
"If I am to live as a man, I must have a mountain," he said simply. — Diana Gabaldon

But was this the touted bliss of love that she'd read about in Madame Sand's spicy novels? It was not the crushing sensation she'd expected, but rather feathery and weightless. How lightly had his hand covered hers! And how much it assured: to keep her safe, to guide and delight. Such a simple act, holding hands. We are a pair, it said. Two in harmony against this inattentive, suffering world. — Enid Shomer

We breathe and breathe and breathe together. She takes my hand and I think how otters sleep floating on their backs in water, holding hands exactly like this, so they don't drift apart in the night.
After a while, she picks up her fist. I do the same.
Rock/Rock
Scissors/Scissors
Rock/Rock
Paper/Paper
Scissors/Scissors
"Yes!" she cries. "We still got it, yes we do! — Jandy Nelson

INSTRUCTIONS FOR ZAZEN First of all, you have to sit down, which you're probably already doing. The traditional way is to sit on a zafu cushion on the floor with your legs crossed, but you can sit on a chair if you want to. The important thing is just to have good posture and not to slouch or lean on anything. Now you can put your hands in your lap and kind of stack them up, so that the back of your left hand is on the palm of your right hand, and your thumb tips come around and meet on top, making a little round circle. The place where your thumbs touch should line up with your bellybutton. Jiko says this way of holding your hands is called hokkai jo-in,113 and it symbolizes the whole cosmic universe, which you are holding on your lap like a great big beautiful egg. — Ruth Ozeki

I decapitated with my blessed right hand the head of American Jew, Daniel Pearl, in the city of Karachi, Pakistan. For those who would like to confirm, there are pictures of me on the Internet holding his head. — Khalid Sheikh Mohammed

It's like holding a hot coal in your hand, it just burns you, it doesn't do me any good. — Joe Lauzon

And then an endless instant later Arthur was kissing him back, like this was perfectly normal, like this was exactly what Arthur had been hoping for most in all the world, his large hands closing over Merlin's shoulders and sliding down over his back, strong and warm even through the fabric of his sweater, one hand pausing on his waist and the other sliding around to cup his arse and pull him in closer. Merlin made a surprised, enthusiastic sound and stopped holding back; let himself cling to Arthur and kiss him more fiercely; and then they were kissing like it was their last day on earth and they had to cram every possible moment of passion into this tiny slice of time, hands clutching at fabric, mouths pressing hungry bites onto bare skin as if they would somehow devour one another, trying to touch and taste everything at once, frantic and needy and bursting with urgent desire and the inescapable knowledge that this was finite, was stolen, was not supposed to be. — FayJay

Gerek placed his hands under Rapunzel's arms and lifted her to her feet. She looked into his eyes for a moment, then threw her arms around him. He pulled her close with one arm, still holding his sword in his other hand. "Shh. All is well . . . All is well." Her golden hair was falling around her shoulders in disarray. How his heart swelled with joy at seeing her safe, her arms around him, the way it felt to touch her and hold her . . . which he should not be doing. But the way she was clinging to him felt so good he could barely breathe. — Melanie Dickerson

Holding her gaze, he sheathed his short sword and pulled the gauntlet off his left hand with his teeth. He held out his bare hand to her.
She glanced at the proffered hand before laying her palm in his. Hot strength gripped her tightly as he pulled her upright before him, so close she would've had to move only inches to brush her lips across his throat. She watched the pulse of his blood beat there, strong and sure, before she lifted her gaze. His head was cocked almost as if he were examining her - searching for something in her face.
She drew in a breath, parting her lips to ask a question. — Elizabeth Hoyt

Did the Almighty, holding in his right hand truth, and in his left hand search after truth, deign to proffer me the one I might prefer, in all humility, but without hesitation, I should request search after truth. — Gotthold Ephraim Lessing

In his left hand he was holding aloft the German flag; with his right he was shaking hands in smiling effusion with a bald-headed man whose face looked like a pot of lard that has boiled over and eventually congealed in white, flabby, unhealthy drifts and folds. — H.E. Bates

I make grilled cheeses for lunch, one for me, two for Will. We don't have any chips, but I find a far of pickles in the pantry.
"This is the best thing I've ever eaten." He pauses for a drink, staring at me over the rim of his glass of juice.
"It's the provolone," I say, swallowing my last bite.
"It's the chef."
I smile and look away.
We listen to music. Talk. Kiss until my flesh glimmers gold-red. Warms to the touch from the deep scald at my core. He stops to watch. Leans his face close to my neck and smells my skin. Like I'm something he might taste. He sweeps his hands along my arms ... making me burn hotter.
"Is this what it's like for other fire-breathers?" he asks, winks, holding my hand up in his broad palm. "Or is it just me and my magic hands? — Sophie Jordan

Later, holding Milo's hand in the dark, Jacob felt that it was only in recovering it that he learned what he had been in danger of losing. The touch of Milo's hand seemed to remind him of parts of himself that he had already begun to forget about. — Caleb Crain

This hand says you spend the rest of your life with me," he said, holding out his left hand, "and this one says I spend the rest of my life with you. Choose."
She bit her lip, tears welling in her eyes. She took both of his hands in hers and he shuddered. "I will die protecting you," he says.
There was a look of dismay on her face. "Just like a man of this kingdom, Finnikin. Talking of death, yours or mine, is not a good way to begin a-"
Isaboe gave a small gasp when he leaned forward, his lips an inch away from hers. "I will die for you," he whispered.
She cupped his face in her hands. "But promise me you'll live for me first, my love. Because nothing we are about to do is going to be easy and I need you by my side. — Melina Marchetta

I arrived here a King's Hand, riding through the gates at the head of my own sworn men, Tyrion reflected, and I leave like a rat scuttling through the dark, holding hands with a spider. — George R R Martin

There are three versions of the hook. There's one that's solid metal and it's really heavy. It's sharp. It's not super sharp but it has a point, and because of the weight you could do some serious damage with it. And then there's an aluminium one which is a bit lighter, and then there's a rubber one for if you're to do stunts or there's any danger of cutting someone. Although sometimes I like to switch it out! It's the perfect coffee cup holder - it's literally the exact size. And if you've only got one hand and you're holding some food, it's great to put it on. — Colin O'Donoghue

I do not crave anyone that will fix me. Just someone who will hold my hand while I fix myself. — Unknown

That was it. Shogo stopped breathing. The dim yellow light falling from the ceiling of the pilothouse shone on his pale face. He seemed at ease.
"Shogo!" Shuya yelled. He still had more to say. "You'll see Keiko! You'll be happy with her! You're
"
It was too late. Shogo couldn't hear anything anymore. But his face just looked so damned peaceful.
"Damn it." Shuya's lips trembled along with his words. "Damn it."
Holding Shogo's hands, Noriko was crying.
Shuya also put his hand on Shogo's thick hand. A thought occured to him. He searched through Shogo's pockets and found the red bird call. He pressed it into Shogo's right hand and closed his hands over it so he could hold it. Shuya then finally burst into tears. — Koushun Takami

Hostage? She's holding me hostage. She has my guts in her hands. I don't care about the company, I care about her. She's my life, do you understand? Have you ever loved a woman? Have you ever held her at night so tight because you couldn't sleep thinking something might happen to her? Have you ever built a future around a woman? Ever thought of every tomorrow, every year, every decade with her? Dreamed of your old age holding her hand? I can only function with her in my life. I can only breathe if I know she's there. I gave her my fucking soul and she threw it away. Months ago, maybe years ago. She made a decision to throw me away. She's prepared for this divorce, and I'm swinging in the wind. Raw. With nothing. No defenses. Now what am I supposed to do?" I stood and threw my coat over my shoulders. "This is not about money. It's not about some publishing company. Not for me. If I don't do this, I have no chance of recovery. I'm as good as dead." ~Adam — C.D. Reiss

Jace set what he was holding down on the windowsill and reached out to her. She came to lean against him, and his hand slid up under her t-shirt and rested caressingly, possessively, on the small of her back. He bent to kiss her, gently at first, but the gentleness went quickly and soon she was pressed up against the glass of the window, his hands at the hem of her shirt - his shirt
"Jace." She moved a little bit away. "I'm pretty sure people down there in the street can see us."
"We could ... " He gestured toward the bed. "Move ... over there."
She grinned. "You said that like it took you a while to come up with the idea."
When he spoke, his voice was muffled against her neck. "What can I say, you make my thought processes slow down. Now I know what it's like to be a normal person."
"How ... is it?" The things he was doing with his hands under the t-shirt were distracting.
"Terrible. I'm already way behind on my quota of witty comments for the day. — Cassandra Clare

Love without trust. The difference between holding a hand and chaining a soul — Kay Hooper

A ripple of amusement passed through the gathering. Cass held out his hand and Roxanna held her breath. Would he even charm a mute child? Pensive, Abby studied him before extending her own small hand. He took it, and the music began again, but not before he'd stood her little feet atop his polished boots. Around and around he danced with her, holding on to her hands, her feet firmly planted atop his own. — Laura Frantz

He slides his hand over my cheek, one finger anchored behind my ear. Then he tilts his head down and kisses me, sending a warm ache through my body. I wrap my hands around his arm, holding him there as long as I can. When he touches me, the hollowed-out feeling in my chest and stomach is not as noticeable. — Veronica Roth

Duncan's hands are long and soft, with a small, neat callus on his thumb from holding a brush - the painter's hallmark. I felt it when he shook my hand. — Priya Parmar

There are a lot of Christians who are halfway fellows. They stand in the door, holding on to the Church with one hand while they play with the toys of the world with the other. They are in the doorway and we can't bring sinners in. — Mordecai Ham

Once, I'd written a Western story, and one of the panels was just a hand holding a six-shooter, and there was a puff of smoke coming out of the barrel, and a straight horizontal line, indicating the trajectory of the bullet. So that page was sent back to me from the Code office, saying that the particular panel was too violent. I asked them what they meant, and they told me
I swear
"The puff of smoke is too big." Well, of course. So I had the artist make the smoke a little smaller, and the youth of America was saved. — Stan Lee

There's a big moon shining on the yard, chalking our way onto the lane and along the road. Kinsella takes my hand in his.
As soon as he takes it, I realise my father has never once held my hand, and some part of me wants Kinsella to let me go so I won't have to feel this.
It's a hard feeling but as we walk along I begin to settle and let the difference between my life at home and the one I have here be.
He takes small steps so we can walk in time. I think about the woman in the cottage, of how she walked and spoke, and conclude that there are huge differences between people. — Claire Keegan

Milla put her hands on his ribs, holding on as he braced his weight on one arm while with his other hand he guided his penis to her and in the same rough motion pushed deep inside.
He froze in place, his breath panting between his parted lips as they stared at each other. She couldn't move; the feel of him inside her was too sharp, almost painful in its intensity. Their gazes met in the mellow lamplight, and she was mesmerized by the tension in his face, the way his steely muscles were locked as if he didn't dare move. It built and built, that clawing need, and yet she remained poised on the razor's edge of something she knew she couldn't control. His chest suddenly heaved on a convulsive breath, and he moved in a long, deep stroke that took him all the way to the hilt. — Linda Howard

His hand slides to my face. "Look at me when I enter you."
His voice is rough, intense. "See me, Sara."
"I do."
He presses inside me and thrusts, burying himself deeply, completely. "Feel me."
"Yes."
He lowers his mouth a breath from mine. "But do you feel us?"
My hands slide around him, holding on to him. "Yes."
"I'm not sure you do." He brushes his mouth over mine.
"But before tonight is over, you will. — Lisa Renee Jones

Real disciples absorb the fiery darts of the adversary by holding aloft the quenching shield of faith with one hand, while holding to the iron rod with the other (see Eph. 6:16; 1 Ne. 15:24; D&C 27:17). There should be no mistaking; it will take both hands! — Neal A. Maxwell

We reached to shake hands, and as soon as we touched, it felt like a current ran between the two of us. My heart sped up. Our eyes met. Nathaniel cleared his throat, and I realized he was trying to take his hand back and I was holding on to it with a death grip. I dropped his hand like it was a burning log. Oh God, I was turning into a stepbrother groper. He was nice to me, and the next thing he knew, I was hanging off him like a parasite. He was most likely grateful I hadn't thrown myself at his face for a tongue kiss. — Eileen Cook

His hand slid up my spine, bringing me closer, pinning my hands between us as I watched his neck bend.
I had a feeling I knew where this was going.
"Max," I warned, my body bracing.
"Quiet," he ordered softly. "Got a point to make, honey."
"Max!" I snapped.
"Let's see how good this could be," he muttered, his eyes on my mouth and I knew, I just knew, he was going to kiss me.
"Max, don't you-"
But his fingers had sifted into my hair against my scalp cupping my head, holding me steady and his mouth came down on mine, cutting off my words. — Kristen Ashley

You might have been my first, Kenna, but I'm a grown man with a brain and a heart. And I know it isn't going to feel like that with just anyone. I know." His arm tightened around her, crushing her even harder against his body. "Now, you're going to walk out of here holding my hand." "I don't hold hands," she breathed, staunchly ignoring the flip-flop in her chest cavity. "You hold my hand." In direct contradiction of his harshly delivered command, he kissed her temple with devastating gentleness. "You hold my hand, darlin'. — Tessa Bailey

After some time my husband reached over to hold my hand, which reminded me that at least there was this, at least we still had hands that remembered how to love each other, two bone-and-flesh flaps that hadn't complicated their simple love by speaking or thinking or being disappointed or having memories. They just held and were held and that is all. Oh, to be a hand. — Catherine Lacey

It's like I'm trying to keep the bad away with one hand while holding on to the good with the other, and it just doesn't work. It's stupid. I need both hands. So I guess I just have to spread out my arms and accept the bad with the good. — Andrea Lochen

He takes my hand in his and starts up the stairs. I kind of like holding hands with him. It's nice. He pushes me up the steps before him, and I turn around to say, "Do you know this is the first time I've ever walked up these steps of my own free will?" He turns me around, slaps me on the ass, and I hear him chuckle. It's more of a murmuring sound, but it's all Logan, and it warms my heart. — Tammy Falkner

He took my hands, holding them between us. "Please, just do this for me. Don't ask questions." he turned my hand over and kissed my palms. "Don't ask to be hurt. Don't fight. Just love me." His voice was soft enough to turn stone to putty, and all desire to defy him left me. — C.D. Reiss

Will bit at his lip. This was the last time Jem, as Jem, might ever touch him. The sharp memory went through him like a knife - of years of Jem's light tap on his shoulder, his hand reaching to help Will up when he fell, Jem holding him back when he was furious, Will's own hands on Jem's thin shoulders as Jem coughed blood into his shirt. Listen to me. I am leaving, but I am living. I will not be gone from you entirely, Will. When you fight now, I will be still by you. When you walk in the world, I will be the light at your side, the ground steady under your feet, the force that drives the sword in your hand. We are bound, beyond the oath. The Marks did not change that. The oath did not change that. It merely gave words to something that existed already. — Cassandra Clare

I looked at other couples and wondered how they could be so calm about it. They held hands as if they weren't even holding hands. When Steve and I held hands, I had to keep looking down to marvel at it. There was my hand, the same hand I've always had - oh, but look! What is it holding? It's holding Steve's hand! Who is Steve? My three-dimensional boyfriend. Each day I wondered what would happen next. What happens when you stop wanting, when you are happy. I supposed I would go on being happy forever. I knew I would not mess things up by growing bored. I had done that once before. — Miranda July

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

For me, hands are hard." She looks up from what she's doing. "Because you're holding this disconnected hand, and it's holding you back." Cadavers occasionally effect a sort of accidental humanness that catches the medical professional off guard. I once spoke to an anatomy student who described a moment in the lab when she realized that the cadaver's arm was around her waist. It becomes difficult, under circumstances such as these, to retain one's clinical remove. — Mary Roach

I stretched out my hands, holding the falling sun in one hand, and the climbing moon in the other, my silver and gold, my gift from life. My gift of life. My life is a hesitation in time. An opening in a cave. A gap for a word. — Jeanette Winterson

When the boat had gone a few oar-strokes away from land they were still standing on the beach, gazing after the boy whom an unknown woman had left naked in their arms. They were holding hands, and other people gave way before them, and I could see no one except them. Or were they perhaps so extraordinary that other people melted away and vanished into thin air around them?
When I had clambered up with my bag onto the deck of the mail-boat North Star, I saw them walking back together on their way home: on the way to our turnstile-gate; home to Brekkukot, our house which was to be razed to the ground tomorrow. They were walking hand in hand, like children. — Halldor Laxness

His hand lay across my stomach as he slept soundly. I entwined my fingers with his and breathed through the warmth that seeped through my chest. Such a simple, sweet thing to do, yet holding hands in bed was incredibly intimate. — N.R. Walker

These ways to make people buy were strange and new to us, and many bought for the sheer pleasure at first of holding in the hand and talking of something new. And once this was done, it was like opium, we could no longer do without this new bauble, and thus, though we hated the foreigners and though we knew they were ruining us, we bought their goods. Thus I learned the art of the foreigners, the art of creating in the human heart restlessness, disquiet, hunger for new things, and these new desires became their best helpers. — Han Suyin

I'm clearly not frightened of flying because I fly all the time, but every once in a while I do, as we all do, think, What if this plane goes down? And I think, Well, if I'm holding the hand of the person sitting next to me, then I'm holding everyone's hand. — Gloria Steinem

There's a light, I still see it
There's a hand still holding me
Even when I don't believe it — Danny Gokey

You wouldn't think the touch of someone's hand could blow your mind. It's nothing, right? People don't right songs and poems about holding hands - they write them about kisses and sex and eternal love. I mean, when you're a little kid you hold hands with your parents to cross the street. Who's going to write an ode to that?
We were alone in the dark, even though the enormous theater was filled with probably a thousand people. We were a tiny island in a sea of other people who didn't matter, who had no meaning, who were so stupid, so oblivious, so stuck in their own boring lives that they didn't even notice the huge, momentous, life-shattering event that was taking place right there in row L, between seats 102 and 104.
Derek Edwards was holding my hand. — Claire LaZebnik

With a little cry, I slid my hand behind his neck and pulled him to me for a real kiss. The assembled people cheered, and I closed my eyes as the sound of pixy wings wreathed us. Give up? Leave? echoed in my thoughts as his lips met mine, holding both a promise and a desire. Never, I answered myself as we parted and, hands still connected, turned to those who meant most to us and were welcomed in between the pixy dust and the blue butterflies. THE BEGINNING — Kim Harrison

Your work, coming from a fluid source, can be traced to the naked song of your youth. You spoke then of holding hands with God. Remember, through everything, you have always held that hand, grip it hard, Robert, and don't let go.

(letter to Robert Mapplethorpe, 1970) — Patti Smith

Again, I whisper.
The corner of his mouth lifts, and then I kiss him. Not so gently this time. His hands drop from my face and grab my waist and pull me to him. A small soft groan excapes him, and that noise makes me feel absolutely crazy. I lose it. I wind my hands around his neck and kiss him without holding anything back. I can feel his heart thundering like mine, his breath coming faster, his arms tightening around me.
And then I can feel what he feels. He's waited for this moment. He loves how I feel in his arms. He loves the smell of my hair. He loves the way I looked at him just now, flushed and wanting more from him. He loves the color of my lips and now the taste of my mouth is making his knees feel weak and he doesn't want to seem weak in front of me. So i draw back, and his breath comes out in a rush. His arms drop away from me. — Cynthia Hand

Because he sounded so lost-the Eric I knew had never been one to do anything other than assume others should serve him-I patted around under the covers for his hand. When I found it, I slid my own over it. His palm was turned up to meet my palm, and his fingers clasped mine. And though I would not have thought it possible to go to sleep holding hands with a vampire, that's exactly what I did. — Charlaine Harris

Magnus reached for Alec, but instead of rising to his feet, he pulled Alec against him, his hand sliding up Alec's back to knot in his hair. Magnus pulled Alec down and against him, and kissed him,hard and awkward and determined, and Alec froze for a moment and then abandoned himself to it, to kissing Magnus, something he'd thought he'd never get to do again. Alec ran his hands up Magnus's
shoulders to the sides of his neck and cupped his hands there, holding Magnus in place while he kissed him thoroughly breathless. — Cassandra Clare

If I am creating the shots from scratch I may have to spend more time holding the directors hand and therefore have less time to finesse the shot or the lighting etc. but it really all depends on the project. Some films benefit from their spontaneity. — Roger Deakins

Ah, the feeling you get holding a diamond in your hand! It seems to bore into your skin, to burn, to breathe. It's like holding a bit of the moon in your hand. — Anna Magnani

It's like waking up and finding there's a war on. Nothing's the way it used to be and it's difficult to get your balance. That's why I held Billy's hand. — Glenda Millard

Derek's change came faster now and maybe a bit easier
no vomiting this time. Finally it was over, and he fell onto his side, panting, shaking, and shivering. Then he reached for my hand, holding it tight, and I entwined my fingers with his, shifting closer and using my free hand to brush sweaty hair from his face.
"Whoa," a voice said, making both of us jump. Simon stood in the entrance to our corner, a pile of fabric in his hands. "You really need to get dressed before you start that."
"I'm not starting anything," Derek said.
"Still ... " He held out the stack in his hands. "Dr. Fellows dug up some hospital greens for you. Get dressed and then ... whatever — Kelley Armstrong

I believe in the Yves Saint Laurent woman who either has her hands in the pockets of her pantsuit or is holding her lover's hand. She doesn't need a bag. — Carine Roitfeld

She wrapped her fingers around his and touched his palm with her thumb.
Her fingers were trembling.
Park shifted in his seat and turned his back to the aisle.
"Okay?" she whispered.
He nodded, taking a deep breath. They both stared down at their hands.
Jesus. — Rainbow Rowell

When you got a guy hanging over the cliff holding on with one hand, you don't want him to get his other hand up there, you want to go ahead and stomp on it — Trot Nixon

Then Mrs. Tiggy-winkle made tea - a cup for herself and a cup for Lucie. They sat before the fire on a bench and looked sideways at one another. Mrs. Tiggy-winkle's hand, holding the tea-cup, was very very brown, and very very wrinkly with the soap-suds; and all through her gown and her cap, there were HAIRPINS sticking wrong end out; so that Lucie didn't like to sit too near her. — Beatrix Potter

Holding someone's hand was always my idea of joy. — Clarice Lispector

God took the record of all your sins-all your sexual failures-that made you a debtor to wrath, and instead of holding them up in front of your face and using them as the warrant to send you to hell, he put them in the palm of his Son's hand and nailed them to the cross. — John Piper

You know the reason The Beatles made it so big? ... 'I Wanna Hold Your Hand.' First single. Fucking brilliant. Perhaps the most fucking brilliant song ever written. Because they nailed it. That's what everyone wants. Not 24/7 hot wet sex. Not a marriage that lasts a hundred years. Not a Porsche ... or a million-dollar crib. No. They wanna hold your hand. They have such a feeling that they can't hide. Every single successful song of the past fifty years can be traced back to 'I Wanna Hold Your Hand.' And every single successful love story has those unbearable and unbearably exciting moments of hand-holding. — David Levithan

Faith has a saving connection with Christ. Christ is on the shore, so to speak, holding the rope, and as we lay hold of it with the hand of our confidence, He pulls us to shore; but all good works having no connection with Christ are drifted along down the gulf of fell despair. — Charles Spurgeon

Andrea turned her back to Desandra and rolled her eyes. Raphael grimaced. They both looked scandalized. Dear God, what could she have said to scandalize a bouda ...
"No, really!" Desandra nodded. "Okay, so most guys don't have a nice ball sack, right? It looks all hairy and wrinkled like some small animal died between their legs, but Gerardo's is like two plums in a velvet bag ... "
Derek, who'd been lingering in the doorway, took a careful step to the left behind the wall and disappeared from my view.
Kill me, somebody. I raised my hand. "Hold that thought. I need to borrow Andrea for a minute."
I grabbed her arm and pulled her into the hallway. Behind us Raphael growled, "Don't leave me!"
Andrea leaned towards me. "Plums."
"Listen ... "
Andrea raised her hands, imitating holding plums the size of small coconuts, and moved them up and down. — Ilona Andrews

Sometimes, reaching out and taking someone's hand is the beginning of a journey.
At other times, it is allowing another to take yours. — Vera Nazarian

Nothing in this world compares to the comfort and security of having someone just hold your hand. — Richelle E. Goodrich

No one in America should ever be afraid to walk down the street holding the hand of the person they love. — Barack Obama

Talking of Pleasure, this moment I was writing with one hand, and with the other holding to my Mouth a Nectarine - how good how fine. It went down all pulpy, slushy, oozy, all its delicious embonpoint melted down my throat like a large, beatified Strawberry. — John Keats

Once I had her hand, I never wanted to let go of her. — Ottilie Weber

The key is your thoughts and feelings, and you have been holding the key in your hand all of your life. — Rhonda Byrne

I am really excited about Battle of the Stars, the line-up looks fantastic. I've no doubt that despite their fame my hand holding will still be in high demand as they take on the judges often harsh words. Lets just hope I'm not having to mop up too many tears! — Kate Thornton

You could knock," Trey said. Brian paused in the bedroom's doorway holding his towel around his waist. Standing before the long dresser, Trey wrapped his arms around the thin young man in front of him and plastered his body to the guy's back. Trey's hand slid up under the hem of his new friend's T-shirt. The guy's eyes widened and he caught Trey's hands in his. "H-hey, Master Sinclair, erm, Brian. Can I call you Brian?" Brian shrugged and the guy flushed. "This isn't what it looks like. I don't like guys or anything." He shook his head vigorously. "You will," Trey murmured, inching the guy's shirt further up his belly. "Trey, are you molesting virgins again?" Brian grinned at his best friend's delight with his latest conquest. — Olivia Cunning

If your rod weighs six ounces, your reel nine, and your line another ounce or two, it means that you are holding a pound of weight in your casting hand - much of the time at arm's length - all the time you fish. Try carrying a pound of butter around that way for four or five hours. — Ted Trueblood

New York City is like the appetizer table at a Jewish wedding, loaded with salt and spice and cholesterol and flavor, with a waiter holding out pleasure in his right hand and indigestion in his left. If you've got the bucks, this burg has the bangs. — Leonore Fleischer

The comfort of our peer-connections is reflected in our most honest and direct hand-holding. When we trip, they are the first ones to pull us back up. — Sara Shandler

Her hand gripped his, and even amid the fear and danger he marveled at the feeling that came with the contact. If we die holding hands in this way, will we enter the next dream together? — Jack Campbell

My name is Lev," said Lev.
"My name is Lydia," said the woman. And they shook hands, Lev's hand holding the scrunched-up kerchief and Lydia's hand rough with salt and smelling of egg, and then Lev asked, "What are you planning to do in En gland?" and Lydia said, "I have some interviews in London for jobs as a translator."
"That sounds promising."
"I hope so. I was a teacher of English at School 237 in Yarbl, so my language is very colloquial."
Lev looked at Lydia. It wasn't difficult to imagine her standing in front of a class and writing words on a blackboard. He said, "I wonder why you're leaving our country when you had a good job at School 237 in Yarbl?"
"Well," said Lydia, "I became very tired of the view from my window. Every day, summer and winter, I looked out at the schoolyard and the high fence and the apartment block beyond, and I began to imagine I would die seeing these things, and I didn't want this. I expect you understand what I mean? — Rose Tremain

You dont get your black ass away from this fire I'll kill you graveyard dead. He looked to where Glanton sat. Glanton watched him. He put the pipe in his mouth and rose and took up the apishamore and folded it over his arm. Is that your final say? Final as the judgement of God. The black looked once more across the flames at Glanton and then he moved away in the dark. The white man uncocked the revolver and placed it on the ground before him. Two of the others came back to the fire and stood uneasily. Jackson sat with his legs crossed. One hand lay in his lap and the other was outstretched on his knee holding a slender black cigarillo. The nearest man to him was Tobin and when the black stepped out of the darkness bearing the bowieknife in both hands like some instrument of ceremony Tobin started to rise. The white man looked up drunkenly and the black stepped forward and with a single stroke swapt off his head. — Cormac McCarthy

We were on the patio, Tristan grilling us burgers, as we watched the kids playing in the their park of a backyard.
... I pointed a Nikolaj, huddled together with Imogen. "No fucking way," I told Tristan. "That right there is not happening."
He curled his lip at me, waving a hand at Cleo and Duncan. They were holding hands. They were only six, but that wasn't the point. "What about that right there? What the ever-loving fuck is up with that? I'll tell you right now I won't stand for it. — R.K. Lilley

Jeremy's T-Shirts by book:
Hard As It Gets
"ROUTE 69"
"This guy loves BACON" with two hands with their thumbs pointing back at him
"Orgasm Donor" with a red cross
Big Johnson's Tattoo Parlor, "You're going to feel more than a Little Prick"
"I'm not Santa but you can still sit on my lap"

Hard As You Can
Log-holding beaver that says, "Are you looking at my wood?"
"I put the long in schlong"

Hard to Hold On To
"Blink if you're horny"

Hard to Come By
Hand pointing downward and the words, "May I suggest the sausage?"
Charlie (who starts borrowing Jeremy's t-shirts): A smiling fire extinguished that says, "I put out"
Charlie: Schnauzer wearing a saddle that says, "Weiner Rides, 25 cents"
"HEAD Foundation. Please give generously"
Charlie: Mr. T with the words "Mr. T Shirt"
There's a party in my pants. You're invited. — Laura Kaye