Hand Railing Quotes & Sayings

I didn't really want to talk. I'd wanted him there, but I asn't sure why. Maybe just to have someone to drink with. Actually, that sounded pretty good at the moment. I sat on the seat of the chaise and he sat on the foot, and we just drank at each other for a while.
After a few minutes, he leaned back against the railing, like maybe he wanted a backrest, and I shifted my feet over to make room. But I guess I didn't shift far enough, because a large, warm hand covered my right foot, adjusting it slightly. And then it just stayed there, like he'd forgotten to remove it.
I looked at it. Pritkin's hands were oddly refined compared to the rest of him: strong but long fingered, with elegant bones and short-clipped nails. They always looked like they'd wandered off from some fine gentleman, one they'd probably like to get back to, because God knew they weren't getting a manicure while attached to him. — Karen Chance

The King and Queen hid in a secret cupboard in their bedroom for two hours, listening to the searchers grow cold, then warm, then cold again, then warm, and at last hot, and burning hot. The weakly King was hard to kill: when they threw him from the balcony they thought him doubly dead from bullet wounds and sword slashes, but the fingers of his right hand clasped the railing and had to be cut off before he fell to the ground, where the fingers of his left hand clutched the grass. — Rebecca West

The women paused to regard the taxidermied creatures with awe.
Predictably, Pandora went forward with her hand outstretched.
"Pandora," Lady Berwick snapped, "if you molest the exhibits, we will not be returning to the museum."
Turning, Pandora gave her a pleading glance. "A giraffe is right there - it once roamed the African savannah - don't you want to know how it feels?"
"Indeed not."
"There's no sign that says we can't."
"The railing implies it."
"But the giraffe is so close," Pandora said woefully. "If you would look the other way for five seconds, I could reach out and touch it so easily . . . and then I wouldn't have to wonder anymore — Lisa Kleypas

Inej turned to go. Kaz seized her hand, keeping it on the railing. He didn't look at her. "Stay," he said, his voice rough stone. "Stay in Ketterdam. Stay with me."
She looked down at his gloved hand clutching hers. Everything in her wanted to say yes, but she would not settle for so little, not after all she'd been through. "What would be the point?"
He took a breath. "I want you to stay. I want you to ... I want you."
"You want me." She turned the words over. Gently, she squeezed his hand. "And how will you have me, Kaz?"
"How will you have me?" she repeated. "Fully clothed, gloves on, your head turned away so our lips can never touch? — Leigh Bardugo

The central message of the Bible is about God redeeming a humanity that is in trouble and suffering. — John Townsend

A wise person makes use of one opportunity where as a fool misses a thousand. — Matshona Dhliwayo

Virtue has needs of limits. — Baron De Montesquieu

The night had fallen. I had let my tools drop from my hands. Of what moment now was my hammer, my bolt, or thirst, or death? On one star, one planet, my planet, the Earth, there was a little prince to be comforted. I took him in my arms, and rocked him. I said to him:
"The flower that you love is not in danger. I will draw you a muzzle for your sheep. I will draw you a railing to put around your flower. I will
"
I did not know what to say to him. I felt awkward and blundering. I did not know how I could reach him, where I could overtake him and go on hand in hand with him once more.
It is such a secret place, the land of tears. — Antoine De Saint-Exupery

Martz: That was my cat.
Eli: Fine specimen.
Martz: I saw you knock him off the bar.
Eli: No. I kind of shooed him. I didn't really knock him ...
Martz: You raised your hand at him.
Eli: Won't happen again, I promise you.
Bartender: Hey, Martz, how about another drink?
Martz: That cat's been coming here for two years. Its got more right to be here than you.
Eli: I don't want any trouble.
Martz: Well that's too bad. Cuz you got ...
Eli: [Eli slams Martz's head on the bar railing] I know who you are. Murderer of innocent travelers on the road. You're gonna be held to account for the things you've done, do you know that? Do you? — Book Of Eli Movie

Other pirates leaped over the railing. One, two ... seven ... thirteen. A baker's dozen. Wait, fifteen. Eighteen ... Twenty-one. The odds weren't in our favor.
"Maybe they just came over to borrow a cup of sugar," I said.
Andrea barked a short laugh. Curran put his hand on my shoulder. "That's a lot of sugar. Must be a big cake. — Ilona Andrews

Once more I realized to what an extent earthly happiness is made to the measure of man. It is not a rare bird which we must pursue at one moment in heaven, at the next in our minds. Happiness is a domestic bird found in our own courtyards. — Nikos Kazantzakis

Things were getting heated fast. Syn pressed Furi hard against the railing, gripping his ass and grinding his hard dick into him. Furi's own cock jerked excitedly in his pants while Syn dug his hand into his crease, skimming over his hole. "Fuck, Syn," Furi gasped. His hole was clenching, wanting to be filled by this man. "Say it's time, please," Furi whimpered. He didn't give a fuck tonight. He was beyond ready to bottom for Syn he needed to so badly. Needed to completely wipe out all the times he'd been made to bottom for Patrick. "Yes." Was Syn's response. He kissed Furi again before pulling back offering him his hand. Furi took it and they walked together back through the salon and down a narrow hall that led to a staircase. — A.E. Via

Char," I said, and asked for a third time: "Where did you learn to dance?"
He looked up at me then, though his hand was still fiddling with dials. "I taught myself," he said finally. "I go out a lot."
I nodded like I was very wise and knew all about going out a lot.
"How old are you?" he asked me suddenly.
"Sixteen."
Char hung his headphones around his neck. "I like that."
"What?" I felt self-conscious all of a sudden, and I crossed my arms across my chest. "That I'm only sixteen?"
He laughed. "That sounds creepy. No, I like that you're honest. Some girls might claim to be older, you know, so they seem more mature or whatever. You're not pretending to be anything you're not."
"I suck at pretending to be anything I'm not," I told him, leaning against the booth's railing. "It's not for lack of trying. — Leila Sales

May I ask Master a question?"
"What is it you want to know, girl?"
"Does Master love his girl?"
He moved her into the railing, the intricate cast iron of the boundary around the balcony bit into her ass. Anyone walking by and looking up would see her naked. She knew that and he knew that.
"What does she think?" He parted her legs and stood between her open thighs. Her wrists still imprisoned in his hand hung over the barrier.
"Yes?"
"Every day for the last eight years I've worn her chain around my neck. A habit I couldn't break, a ritual like clockwork every morning. Her chain around my neck, my watch on my wrist. — April Vine

Sicarius stood behind them, not bothering to hide his face as the breeze rifled through his short blond hair. He hadn't drawn a weapon yet, and Amaranthe hurried to catch up, to keep him from doing so.
First one security man glanced over his shoulder and jumped, then the second emulated the move.
Sespian lifted a hand. "Don't hurt - "One of the men pointed to the side of Sicarius, cried, "Look, enforcers!" and hurled himself past Sespian and into the river. The second man squeaked, scuttled backward until his shoulders rammed against the railing, then grabbed it and also propelled himself into the water. His lantern caught and dropped to the deck instead of falling overboard. It clanked and highlighted a dubious puddle before tipping over and winking out. Amaranthe had forgotten how much Sicarius's reputation affected the average person. — Lindsay Buroker

The Offices rerooted me in a tradition where, monk or not, I would always be at home. From long ago I knew the power of their repetition, the incantatory force of the Psalms. But they had an added power now. As a kid, the psalmist (or psalmists) had seemed remote to me, the Psalms long prayers which sometimes rose to great poetry but often had simply to be endured. For a middle-aged man, the psalmists' moods and feelings came alive. One of the voices sounded a lot like a modern New Yorker, me or people I knew: a manic-depressive type A personality sometimes up, more often down, sometimes resigned, more often pissed off, railing about his sneaky enemies and feckless friends, always bitching to the Lord about the rotten hand he'd been dealt. That good old changelessness. — Tony Hendra

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

Love is not the doe-eyed virgin you believe her to be. Love is always hungry. Love is always wanting. Love is not rational. Love does not compromise. And Love is not happy simply possessing you. It wants to own you. Control you. Be you. The first murder was because of love. And I promise you that the last of your kind will die for it. "Love is the single-minded hunter who consumes its prey, sucking it of all it's worth and then seeks another. Love is only happy when you are on your knees, begging it to stay. And love will walk away, leaving you to your self pity just to feel your need. "Love — R.E. Vance

Indiana was such a devout disciple of Shakti that she had once considered taking her name until her father, Blake Jackson, managed to convince her that a Hindu goddess's name was not appropriate for a tall, voluptuous blond American with the looks of an inflatable doll. — Isabel Allende

The worst part was the silence. Death was supposed to be loud - gunshots, explosions, screams and thunder. Not this eerie quiet that wrapped around me like a shroud. — Karen Chance