Hand Wraps Quotes & Sayings

You think my first instinct is to protect you. Because you're small, or a girl, or a Stiff. But you're wrong."
He leans his face close to mine and wraps his fingers around my chin. His hand smells like metal. When was the last time he held a gun, or a knife? My skin tingles at the point of contact, like he's transmitting electricity through his skin.
"My first instinct is to push you until you break, just to see how hard I have to press." he says, his fingers squeezing at the word break. My body tenses at the edge in his voice, so I am coiled as tight as a spring, and I forget to breathe.
His dark eyes lifting to mine, he adds, "But I resist it."
"Why ... " I swallow hard. "Why is that your first instinct?"
"Fear doesn't shut you down; it wakes you up. I've seen it. It's fascinating." He releases me but doesn't pull away, his hand grazing my jaw, my neck. "Sometimes I just want to see it again. Want to see you awake. — Veronica Roth

I would say that, intellectually, Catholicism had no more impact on me than did social theory. — Paul Farmer

Only problem with the whole scheme, really, is that Lauren's about to blow up the planet. See, that's the part you aren't in on. The thing in the Box? It's an angel. And it's really old and really pissed off." "You're bluffing," Nicky said. "Are we?" Caitlin shrugged. "We're keeping things under wraps to avoid a panic, but a full report's been delivered to the prince and his inner council. A council which, last time I checked, includes your father. Why don't you get in touch with him? Ask him who Belephaia is." He looked from her to me and back again, resting his hand on his desk phone. His brow furrowed as he worked out the implications. — Craig Schaefer

He shifts on his knees and leans into me until I am lying on my back. He's supporting himself above me on his one elbow and wraps his other hand around my head, pulling me in for a slow kiss. I hold his face in my hands as his lips dance across mine. When he pulls back, he takes his time staring at me, and I get lost in his clear-blue eyes for a moment before he says, "You're not gonna lose me, babe. I love you too much to let you go." - Ryan Campbell — E.K. Blair

Successful people form the habit of doing what failures don't like to do. They like the results they get by doing what they don't necessarily enjoy. — Earl Nightingale

I like bustling around Paul's kitchen. And I like it even more when he walks up behind me and wraps his arms around me while I'm standing at the stove. He pretends like he's going to try to steal a piece of chicken from the pasta, but he presses his lips to my shoulder and lingers, his hot breath blowing across my neck. I reach up and wrap my hand around his neck and bring him down so I can kiss him. Then he pops the chicken into his mouth and grins. "That's pretty good," he says, nodding. I roll my eyes. "Glad you like my chicken." "Oh, I wasn't talking about the chicken," he says, letting his eyes roam up and down my body. — Tammy Falkner

Do not be afraid to throw yourself on the Lord! He will not draw back and let you fall! Put your worries aside and throw yourself on him; He will welcome you and heal you. — Saint Augustine

He blinks. Touches the side of my face, near my eyes. My eyes that are blue now, not green. With oval irises.
"I'm still me," I say, because my greatest fear now is that he doesn't want a hybrid Amy.
He cocks an eyebrow. "You think I care if your eyes are blue or green? I just care about you." His hand slips down my arm, and he wraps his pinky finger around mine.
"You came back to me," I say, my voice breaking over unshead tears of joy.
"I'll always come back to you," he tells me pulling me close.
Always. — Beth Revis

When he settles back onto his knee, he wipes a tear away from his own eyes. "Sherry, until I met you I didn't know what life was. I had no clue that I wasn't even alive. It's like you came along and woke up my soul." He's looking straight at her as he talks. He doesn't sound nervous at all, like he's determined to prove to her how serious he is. He takes a deep breath and then continues. "I'll never be able to give you everything you deserve, but I'll definitely spend the rest of my life trying."
He pulls the ring out of the box and slides it on her finger. "I'm not asking you to marry me, Sherry. I'm telling you to marry me, because I can't live without you."
Sherry wraps her arms around his neck and they hold onto one another and cry. "Okay," she finally says. When they begin to kiss, his hand reaches over and turns off the camera. — Colleen Hoover

I remember doing my mosaics or being in my little hiding place behind the couch snooping. I'd get bored sometimes, of course, but I think that's good for a kid, because it forces you to be creative. — Feist

No country on Earth would tolerate missiles raining down on its citizens from outside its borders. — Barack Obama

God's beneficence streams out from the morning sun, and his love looks down upon us from the starry eyes of midnight. It is his solicitude that wraps us in the air, and the pressure of his hand, so to speak, that keeps our pulses beating. O! it is a great thing to realize that the Divine Power is always working; that nature, in every valve and every artery, is full of the presence of God. — Edwin Hubbel Chapin

The allure, huh?"
"I've learned a few things about castle architecture over the years." Liv wraps one arm around my waist. "The allure is a passage behind the parapet of a castle wall. Great for defense when the enemy is approaching. You know you're safe on the allure." She tucks her head beneath my chin, twining her hand with mine. "Like we're safe with each other."
"No doubt about it, beauty." I press my face against her sweet-smelling hair. "You'll always be my allure. — Nina Lane

Lovely as it would be to live off a trust fund and have nothing more taxing to think about than where your next hot stone massage was coming from, it's essential for all human beings to have a purpose. There's no honour in boasting "I don't work, dahling..." If you're not stretching yourself, discovering where your gifts lie, expressing your creativity, or enriching the lives of others, what are you for? — Rosie Blythe

We aren't called to do big things; we are just called to do something that fulfills this command: Love God. Love others. — Kristen Welch

Kate opens a jar of honey and pours a thick line of the sticky stuff over the top edge of the wound. Setting the jar back on the counter, she picks up the first strip of cloth and gently wraps it around his arm. As she works, she can feel his eyes on her, watching her silently. She stands close, and his injured arm is outstretched just enough for his hand to be hanging in the air beside her waist. When she tugs on the bandage to make the first knot, his hand is pulled to her, lightly brushing the side of her body with the tips of his fingers. When she tugs again, he presses his hand to her waist, and she feels the subtle constriction of his fingertips. — Kari Aguila

If language was given to men to conceal their thoughts, then gesture's purpose was to disclose them. — John Napier

He leans his face close to mine and wraps his fingers around my chin. His hand smells like metal. When was the last time he held a gun, or a knife? — Veronica Roth

The Holy Ghost is no temporary gift, He abides with the saints. We have but to seek Him aright, and He will be found of us. He is jealous, but He is pitiful; if He leaves in anger, He returns in mercy. Condescending and tender, He does not weary of us, but awaits to be gracious still. — Charles Haddon Spurgeon

loneliness is a strange sort of thing. it creeps up on you, quiet and still, sits by your side in the dark, strokes your hair as you sleep. it wraps itself around your bones, squeezing so tight you almost can't breathe. it leaves lies in your heart, lies next to you at night, leaches the light out from every corner. its a constant companion, clasping your hand only to yank you down when you're struggling to stand up. — Tahereh Mafi

Don't pursue something with a vengeful heart, or it will destroy you. Hate wraps a cold hand around your heart and hollows you out.
- Justus — Dannika Dark

Keller had a professor in college who said that civilization was a matter of plumbing. That basically, the infrastructure for moving clean water in and filthy water out is what allowed people to congregate in large populations in permanent dwellings and create cities and cultures. Otherwise, people had to be nomads to literally escape their own shit. — Don Winslow

Twitter is an amazing public tool with an incredible capacity for public good. — Rachel Sklar

Kissing Bennet is like stepping into the lake. At first shocking, then slowly I acclimate until I'm sinking into the luxury of it. His hand wraps around my ribs, right below the swell of my breast, and I'm in way over my head, drowning in the sensations that overrun my body. No one has ever kissed me like this. Not even Andrew in all my wildest fantasies. Andrew. Andrew! Oh my gosh, what am I doing? — A.S. Green

What are you doing?" I whisper, not at all surprised when he doesn't answer my question. He keeps up drawing patterns for a few minutes, nearly lulling me to sleep, before leaning over and pressing a soft kiss between my shoulder blades. He wraps his arms around me, pulling me onto my side toward him, my back flat against his warm chest."I was connecting the dots," he says quietly. "Your freckles are like stars. They tell a story, depending on how you connect them."I smile to myself as he takes my hand, linking our fingers together. "What did they tell you?""They told me you're beautiful," he says. "And I'm a lucky son of a bitch to have you all to myself. — J.M. Darhower

what transported me into raptures were the sweeping cloaks, the wraps, the shawls, the veils, all those yielding, magnificent, unused materials that were soft and caressing, or so sheer that I could hardly keep hold of them, or so light that they flew by me like a wind, or simply heavy with all their own weight. It was in them I saw, for the first time, truly free and infinitely variable possibilities: to be a slave girl and sold off, or to be Joan of Arc, or an old king, sorcerer; all these I now held in my hand — Rainer Maria Rilke

Extreme law is often extreme injustice. — Terence

Just being near the water makes me ache for it, makes my skin tingle with the desire to run until I am chest-deep and the water wraps around my skin like a satin ribbon, making the worries, the aches, the stress unwind. Sometimes, I wonder if this is how a recovering alcoholic would feel if someone put a beer in her hand. If her body would wage war against her mind as mine does. — Mandy Hubbard

"Dance with me, blossom," he coaxes, and when I hesitate, he reels me in with his magic. I snuggle into his chest and let myself savor his vitality, wishing I could absorb it.
He wraps an arm around my waist and clasps my hand with his. Lips pressed to my dreadlocked head, he hums the lullaby's tune while his inner voice fills my head on a frequency only I can hear: "You dazzled me today. So uninhibited. So filled with malice." — A.G. Howard

I reach for Prim in the twilight, clamp my hand on her leg and pull myself over to her. Her voice remains steady as she croons to Buttercup. "It's all right, baby, it's all right. We'll be OK down there."
My mother wraps her arms around us. I allow myself to feel young for a moment and rest my head on her shoulder. — Suzanne Collins

Color is like cooking. The cook puts in more or less salt, that's the difference! — Josef Albers

Even so you have managed to live that love in the only way possible for you. Losing it before it happened. — Marguerite Duras

It is the duty of the State to educate, and the right of the people to demand education. — Edmund Barton

I open the orangutan's door and set a pan of fruits, vegetables, and nuts on the floor. As I close it, her long arm reaches through the bars. She points at an orange in another pan.
'That? You want that?'
She continues to point, blinking at me with close-set eyes. Her features are concave, her face a wide platter fringed with red hair. She's the most outrageous and beautiful thing I've ever seen.
'Here,' I say, handing her the orange. 'You can have it.'
She takes it and sets it on the floor. Then she reaches out again. After several seconds of serious misgivings, I hold out my hand. She wraps her long fingers around it, then lets go. She sits on her haunches and peels her orange.
I stare in amazement. She was thanking me. — Sara Gruen