His Sweatshirt Quotes & Sayings

I pulled a dirty black sweatshirt from the laundry basket on my son's floor and tried to drink in his scent, to savor the essence of my sweet boy. I inhaled it long and hard, wanting to permanently implant all of him in my brain, to make him last forever. — Shelley Ramsey

Cooper leaned back a little then reached out and tugged at my size too large pink Minnie Mouse sweatshirt. "You really wanted to put an exclamation mark on the no sex thing, huh?"
Balking, I smacked his hand. "Screw you. This is my sexiest outfit. It's frigging Minnie Mouse, Cooper. The chick exudes sex."
Grinning wider now, he played with my hair. "You can't know what I think about you."
"What does that mean? You're so mysterious that a mere mortal like me can't fathom your giant brain?"
"Sums it up pretty well," he said, twirling my hair around his fingers. "You get feisty after a shower. I'll have to remember that. — Bijou Hunter

What would you do if you had to make a run for it?' His voice is husky as he stares, mesmerized, at the unraveling thread.
'I'd grab my shoes and run.'
'Dressed like this? In front of lawless men?' His eyes drift up to my midriff.
'If you're worried about pervs breaking into the house, it's not going to make a difference whether I'm in this outfit or in baggy jeans and a sweatshirt. Either they're decent human beings or they're not. Their actions are on them.'
'It'll be tough for them to take any action while I'm pummeling their faces. Disrespect will not be tolerated.'
I half smile at him. 'Because you're all about respect.'
He sighs as if a little disgusted with himself. 'Lately, I seem to be all about you. — Susan Ee

Trying to make it from the bottom. His sins
Feeling as hard as Vince Carter's knee cartilage is. — Earl Sweatshirt

Jordan's gone, bros." Cole wiped crumbs from his greasy sweatshirt. "He bugged out right after you jokers gave him the third degree. Said CU wasn't for him." He snorted. "Y'all are, like, the leading cause of dropout around here. — Kathy Reichs

PREFACE A New Look at the Legacy of Albert Einstein Genius. Absent-minded professor. The father of relativity. The mythical figure of Albert Einstein - hair flaming in the wind, sockless, wearing an oversized sweatshirt, puffing on his pipe, oblivious to his surroundings - is etched indelibly on our minds. "A pop icon on a par with Elvis Presley and Marilyn Monroe, he stares enigmatically from postcards, magazine covers, T-shirts, and larger-than-life posters. A Beverly Hills agent markets his image for television commercials. He would have hated it all," writes biographer Denis Brian. Einstein is among the greatest scientists of all time, a towering figure who ranks alongside Isaac Newton for his contributions. Not surprisingly, Time magazine voted him the Person of the Century. Many historians have placed him among the hundred most influential people of the last thousand years. — Michio Kaku

Hank was walking barefoot up the dock, carrying his sweatshirt over a freckled shoulder and his boots clamped between thumb and finger of that maimed hand. Lee marveled at the scamper of small muscles across the narrow white back, at the swing of the arms and the lift of the neck. Did it take that much muscle just to walk, or was Hank showing off his manly development? Every moment constituted open aggression against the very air through which Hank passed. He doesn't just breathe, Lee decided, listening to Hank's broken-nosed puffing, he gobbles the oxygen. He doesn't just walk; he consumes distance step by carnivorous step. Open aggression is what it is all right, he concluded.
Yet couldn't help but notice the way those shoulders seemed to savor the swing of the arms, or the way those feel relished the feel of the dock. These people ... am I one of these people? — Ken Kesey

Emily Zola.That's only the second woman I've seen down here. What's up with that?"
But before St. Clair can answer, the grating voice says, "It's Emile." We turn around to find a smug guy in a Euro Disney sweatshirt. "Emile Zola is a man."
My face burns. I reach for St. Clair's arm to pull us away again,but St. Clair is already in his face. "Emile Zola was a man," he corrects. "And you're an arse. Why don't you mind your own bloody business and leave her alone! — Stephanie Perkins

Wait," he said, and he had his hand outstretched toward me, fingertips just brushing the sleeve of my sweatshirt, gently rooting me to the spot. I wanted to shrug him off, but at the same time, I wanted to fall against him and bury my face in his shoulder. I wanted to commiserate about what had just happened, and make sure he was okay, and discuss how Stanton really is psychotic. I did none of the above. — Emma Mills

He's wearing his official university sweatshirt again, which puzzles me a little. I mean I'd sort of understand it more if it said Yale or Harvard or something, because then it would be a fashion choice. But why advertise the fact that you're at a university to all the other people who are at the university with you? — David Nicholls

Esteban took a step backwards and took his sweatshirt off. He folded it and placed it on the ground next to the wall. He looked like a matador preparing for a bullfight. I opened my mouth and almost said something ... — Jose N. Harris

I am the girl who prefers to send her Friday night curled up with her pillow, reading a good novel, and I am also the girl who likes to go out on a Saturday night and dance until the DJ plays his last song. I am the girl who wants to wear beat up converses and an over-sized sweatshirt, and I am also the girl who owns over sixty dresses and too many shoes to count. Why did it become okay to say one is better than the other? Because I am all of that. — Ming Liu

And Gat did shut up, but his face contorted. He stood abruptly, picked up a rock from the sand, and threw it with all his force. He pulled off his sweatshirt and kicked off his shoes. Then he walked into the sea in his jeans. Angry. — E. Lockhart

I need a Kleenex." She sniffs.
Guy disengages his hands from hers, takes the hem of his
sweatshirt, and wipes her nose with it.
"That's romantic," she says, embarrassed.
"Well, it is sort of, because I wouldn't do it for anybody else
in the world. — Julia Hoban

Heat radiated off Henry's face. Salty snot ran down his upper lip. A majestic fart propelled him to the top of Section 12, just at the springing of the stadium's curve. He slapped the sign as if high-fiving a teamate. It gave back a game shudder. He was crusing now, darkness be damned, stripping off his sweatshirt and his long underwear top without breaking stride. — Chad Harbach

His tongue swept in, gentle and sweet, but also intense. She tasted spearmint, like he'd been chewing gum. He smelled like grass from the field.
One hand smoothed a path up her back under her sweatshirt but over her tank. His palm made lazy circles on her back that mimicked the rhythm of their kiss. It was a light, almost reverent touch, and she finally knew what Katie meant when she had once said she loved kissing so much she could do it for hours alone. If this was how it was supposed to be done, sign her up for a marathon event. — Jeanette Murray

The arms of his swim team sweatshirt still wrapped around the pillow on the bed - Em had said it smelled of him. — Jodi Picoult

He balled up my discarded sweatshirt and put it against his shoulder. "Go on," he said. "I don't bite." "And from what I hear, that's a good thing." He gave a rumbling chuckle. "Yeah, it is." I leaned against his shoulder. — Kelley Armstrong

The rest of what she wanted to say was lost in his mouth. A red mist rose in his head. Fast as lightning, he picked her up, stripped her, pulled off his sweatshirt, pushed his sweat pants down - he deliberately hadn't put on underwear, either - and embedded his c#ck in her. Just shoved it in because he'd die if he didn't have his c#ck in her now. — Lisa Marie Rice

It almost feels like at some point life whacks you on top of the head and hands you a list of all the things you can keep. The list is surprisingly long. You can keep letters. You can keep trying. You can keep secrets and you can try your hardest to keep promises. You can keep your eyes on the road. You can keep his sweatshirt, the one he left on the living room floor. You can keep photos and you can keep the memories. But you cannot keep people. People are not things - you can't keep them. — Hannah Brencher

The sweatshirt was big on her and she looked ridiculous. He liked it. And he liked that she was wearing something that carried his scent. — Anne Bishop

In a world where like everyone's so accessible now, to say something new in an article that you can't find out about a n - - through his Twitter or like Googling him or some s - - is rare. Just like how a good song is rare. — Earl Sweatshirt

Well, you've got the growling part down pat already. Probaly all those years of practice."
He began to rise, his legs wobbly.
"All right, I'm coming back. I just didn't want to be in your way."
A grunt. Your not. Or that's what I hoped he meant.
"You can understand me, can't you?" I said as I returned to sit on his discarded sweatshirt. "You know what I'm saying."
He tried to nod, then snarled at the awkwardness of it.
"Not easy when you can't talk, is it?" I grinned. "Well, not easy for you. I could get used to it."
He grumbled, but I coulld see the relief in his eyes, like he was glad to see me smile.
"So I was right, wasn't I? It's still you even if wolf form."
He grunted.
"No sudden urges to go kill something?"
He rolled his eyes.
"Hey, you're the one who was worried." I paused. "And I don't smell like dinner, right?"
I got a real good look for that one.
"Just covering my bases. — Kelley Armstrong

Okay, pull me up."
The rope didn't move.
"Ascanio?" What was it now? Did he see a butterfly and get distracted?
The rope slid up, as fast as if wound by a winch. I shot upward. What the ... ?
I cleared the edge and found myself face to face with Curran.
Oh boy.
He held the rope with one hand, muscles bulging on his arm under his sweatshirt. No strain showed on Curran's face. It's good to be the baddest shapeshifter in the city. Behind him Ascanio stood very still, pretending to be invisible.
Curran's gray eyes laughed at me. The Beast Lord reached out and touched my nose with his finger. "Boop. — Ilona Andrews

Trust me, not every girl would give up his sweatshirt just because a girl asks. — Jay Asher

Hey! Give that back!" Panic started to set in. Ignoring the fact that I was only in my panties, I jumped up out of bed and grabbed at the sweatshirt, trying to pull it back to me. I couldn't lose it, I just couldn't.
But then his jaw dropped. "You're not wearing pants!" He slapped his hand over his eyes and let me pull the shirt out of his grip. "Damn it, put some clothes on."
That gave me pause, and might have made me laugh if I wasn't so freaked out. The demon from hell was unnerved by me being half-dressed? — Erin McCarthy

Sunny laughed. "It's okay. You're right, Emma. My name is unusual, but I like to think of it as ... special also."
Special?
Sam cocked his head as he studied Sunny. Almost all of her hair had escaped out of her ponytail now. She wore a baggy pink sweatshirt and had on the kind of drawstring plaid pants that would've set Bozo the Clown's heart pitter-pattering with envy. Her yellow tennis shoes were covered with dog hair.
Yeah, special was one word for her. — Jennifer Shirk

Wow, " Ben said. He thought Eddie's mother must be really weird. He was unconscious of the fact that now both of his hands were fiddling in the remains of his sweatshirt. "Why don't you just say no? Say something like 'Hey Ma, I feel all right, I just want to stay home and watch Sea Hunt. — Stephen King

A 5'5", 182-pound, 43-year-old man wearing khaki shorts and a UCLA sweatshirt runs to Nicolas Cage in a manner he will spend the rest of the night describing to his slightly bored but equally boring date as "ambushing." No one else is on the street and Nicolas Cage is unable to avoid the man, who wants a picture with his "brand new Droid." As the man, who actually seems to be vibrating and hovering in an almost hummingbird-like way, adjusts his stance for the third attempt at a picture his crotch lightly brushes Nicolas Cage's upper thigh, causing his face to shift from "bemused resignation" to, strangely, "serene bliss," for what will become the man's inaugural Facebook profile picture. — Megan Boyle

Taking the sweatshirt, he raised it to his face and sniffed the bloodstains left on it. — Tim O'Rourke

Sorry," she said. "I'm kind of hiding. Would you believe that when you're royalty, it is really difficult to find a moment of privacy?" Smirking, Kai shut the door behind him. He kept a hand behind his back as he came toward her. "Might I suggest getting yourself a hooded sweatshirt? It makes a surprisingly adequate disguise. — Marissa Meyer