Hot Seat Quotes & Sayings

The grey nurse resumed her knitting as Peter Walsh, on the hot seat beside her, began snoring. In her grey dress, moving her hands indefatigably yet quietly, she seemed like the champion of the rights of sleepers, like one of those spectral presences which rise in twilight in woods made of sky and branches. The solitary traveler, haunter of lanes, disturber of ferns, and devastator of hemlock plants, looking up, suddenly sees the giant figure at the end of the ride. — Virginia Woolf

The middle seat holds an old woman, teeny, not much bigger than a doll. She is creased and wrinkled and rheumy-eyed. Her eyes, though, beneath their cloudy scrim, sparkle like emeralds. And she is bright. She is very bright. Her cheeks rouged a happy pink. Her sweater a hot pink, the vibrant color masking the heavy load on her sloped, thin shoulders. — Cherise Wolas

I have wondered why it is that our greatest triumphs spring from our greatest extremity and adversity. Perhaps it is because we are so resistant to change, we only move when our seat becomes too hot to occupy. — Richard Paul Evans

Asking that woman to take a sideline seat is like asking Johnny Depp to stop being hot. — Jana Deleon

She frowned at the message on his T-shirt: IT ONLY
SEEMS KINKY THE FIRST TIME.
"It was a gift," he said.
"From Satan?"
Something that looked almost like a smile flickered across his face and then disappeared. "You don't like it, you know what you can do about it." He
cleared another snarl of water hyacinths.
"What if a child saw that shirt?"
"Seen any kids today?" He shifted his weight slightly on the seat. "You're making me sorry I lost my favorite one." She turned back to the bow. "I
don't want to hear."
"It says, 'I'm al for gay marriage as long as both bitches are hot. — Susan Elizabeth Phillips

(Max) He shook his head impatiently. "You'll be all right. I've got to go. Lora ... " he hesitated, then with a muttered, "Hell!" swooped over her. Before she knew what was happening, he had her pinned back against the seat and his mouth was on hers, hard and hot and almost brutal in its demand. His hand was rough and warm on her breast. Lora's senses exploded. She forgot the men outside the car, her anger with Max, everything as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back with a hunger that had been building inside her forever ... — Karen Robards

Did I tell you how much I liked your sermon on Sunday?" "You did not, or I would have remembered it." "Well, it was glorious. You were very bold, I thought, to preach on sin. Hardly anyone wants to hear sin preached." "Mainstream Christianity glosses over the fact that it isn't just a question of giving up sin, but of doing something far more difficult - giving up our right to ourselves." He made the turn onto the busy highway toward Wesley, which always, somehow, seemed a shock to his senses. "The sin life in us must be transformed into the spiritual life." "How?" "Through sacrifice and obedience." She smiled ironically. "How do you think that will be received by those of us who come to sit in a comfortable pew and find a hot seat instead? "They'll just have to go across the street until I've finished preaching on that particular subject." She laughed with delight. "You're different these days." He laughed with her. "I pray so," he said. — Jan Karon

I was thinking about stopping at a restaurant. Would you care to join me?"
She shifted in the car seat to face him, causing him to glance at her legs once again. "Are you asking me out?"
"No."
"Will you purr if I tickle you behind the ears?"
"No."
"Will you dance the samba for me in your hot pink sequined thong?"
"No."
"Do you always say no?"
His mouth twitched. "No. — Kerrelyn Sparks

She squeezed her eyes shut. "No."
"Excuse me?"
She sniffed, opened her eyes then looked up. "No. I don't wish you to leave."
His eyes changed from lukewarm to hot.
The iron of the seat met her back. Oh yes, definitely she was the keeper at the zoo and she'd just offered her own leg, medium-rare, to the lion. — Cari Silverwood

I don't have to write jokes. I don't have to write insults. If you ask the man of the hour in the hot seat, my mere existence is clearly insult enough. — Rachael Ray

To give up a marriage - someone unmarried might imagine it's like giving up a seat in a theater, or sacrificing a trick in bridge for the possibility of better, later. But it is harsher than anyone could realize: a hot invisible fire, burning pieces of hope and fantasy, and charred bits of the past. It had to go, however, if something were to be built in its place. So I stood there and gave Buzz advice, and all I could think of were the automatons we had seen at Playland, moving beautifully in the wind, and the children who were taken behind the scenes on a tour and shown, to their surprise, the vast tangle of wires and switches that would be so hard to undo, and even worse, once undone, to bring to life again. — Andrew Sean Greer

My wife is a thief...
She takes the last cookie
Takes forever to get ready
She takes her time in the shower
Takes all of the hot water
She takes my favorite seat on the couch
Takes the high road when I lose control
My wife is a thief...
She took my last name
Took the time to get to know me, love me
She took the back seat and let me lead
Took on motherhood and the emotional toll that it brings
She took care of me the many times that I've gotten sick
Took on the pain of pregnancy so that the Jackson legacy would live on
My wife takes, and takes, and takes...
I'm so proud of my perpetual thief who stole my heart and won't give it back. — David Jackson

The first week of August hangs at the very top of summer, the top of the live-long year, like the highest seat of a Ferris wheel when it pauses in its turning. The weeks that come before are only a climb from balmy spring, and those that follow a drop to the chill of autumn, but the first week of August is motionless, and hot. It is curiously silent, too, with blank white dawns and glaring noons, and sunsets smeared with too much color. — Natalie Babbitt

But we were friends all our childhood, a voice said inside her; and that other voice answered coldly, Friends are whom you choose, not the people forced on you by circumstances. And yet she was nearly crying with misery and humiliation and friendlessness, in the hot back seat of the car, while grains of sunlight danced through the fractured roof, and stung her flesh like needles. — Doris Lessing

Elle, what happened to your prudish behavior?"
Elle laughed. "It took a back seat when I was given a mate so hot that he could cook bacon on his abs. — Quinn Loftis

Steaming, Sebastian flies up out of his seat and makes a dramatic exit out the front door.
"Is he always so crazy?" I asked.
"Yeah. But he's a hot fuck. You'll see."
"No thanks... I'll pass. That kid's severely psychotic."
"He's just a jealous mess."
"Why did you marry him?"
"We're not married. We're in an open relationship."
"Thank God. I was seriously worried."
"YEAH. Well I better go find him- before he slits his wrists."
"GOOD IDEA. Better take some duct tape-- just in case you're too late. — Giorge Leedy

The air is annoyingly potted with a multitude of minor vertical disturbances which sicken the passengers and keep us captives of our seat belts. We sweat in the cockpit, though much of the time we fly with the side windows open. The airplanes smell of hot oil and simmering aluminum, disinfectant, feces, leather, and puke ... the stewardesses, short-tempered and reeking of vomit, come forward as often as they can for what is a breath of comparatively fresh air. — Ernest K. Gann

She gasped and jerked in her seat as a sudden hot, searing pain tore across the top of her right hipbone, the impact of the bullet throwing her off balance. — Kaylea Cross

Then Night came down like the feathery soot of a smoky lamp, and smutted[9] first the bedquilt, then the hearth-rug, then the window-seat, and then at last the great, stormy, faraway outside world. But sleep did not come. Oh, no! Nothing new came at all except that particularly wretched, itching type of insomnia which seems to rip away from one's body the whole kind, protecting skin and expose all the raw, ticklish fretwork of nerves to the mercy of a gritty blanket or a wrinkled sheet. Pain came too, in its most brutally high night-tide; and sweat, like the smother of furs in summer; and thirst like the scrape of hot sand-paper; and chill like the clammy horror of raw fish. — Eleanor Hallowell Abbott

President Bush is in the hot seat over Iraqi pre-war intelligence. Remember the good ol' days when the only thing the president was trying to cover up was a stain? — Craig Kilborn

Doing the press, it's part of my job, so I do it with a smile on my face, but I'm not comfortable in the hot seat. — Kevin Bacon

The greater fool is actually an economic term. It's a patsy. For the rest of us to profit, we need a greater fool - someone who will buy long and sell short. Most people spend their life trying not to be the greater fool; we toss him the hot potato, we dive for his seat when the music stops. The greater fool is someone with the perfect blend of self-delusion and ego to think that he can succeed where others have failed. This whole country was made by greater fools. — Aaron Sorkin

Trying to tell an authentic, raw and honest story without making it therapy. Separating myself enough to have perspective while putting myself in the emotional hot seat so that I could make this thing real. Asking for help. Delegating responsibility. Standing up for myself. Fighting the impulse to be sweet and likeable 24/7. Being open to all ideas, but staying true to the spine of the story. Knowing when to let go and when to hold on and fight like hell. Getting out of my own way. Shall I go on? — Jessie Kahnweiler

Alex Barrow's broad face, with the roughened skin that gave him an air of experience. His powerful, packed, wrestler's body. The thick black fur at the base of his throat. It was wrong to call him handsome, although all the women did. Really he was almost ugly, but in a stirring, thrilling way that made her shift in her seat as she thought about him. — Anne Tyler

Sophie ignored her and went to take a seat. The only two open were between Tristan and Jackson. Lilli had fallen headfirst in like with Jackson's auburn hair and deep brown eyes, so Sophie knew she'd have to sit next to Tristan. Her heart stuttered. Tristan's gray eyes warmed when Sophie took the seat next to him. Her gaze roamed over his face. The square jaw, full lips. His brown hair was mussed, like he'd just woken up. When his lips tilted up at one corner heat rushed to her face. "Come on. We need to get this started. I've got better things to do." Morgan's eyes sparked at Tristan and Sophie. Aidan, the last of the study group, whistled. "You're hot when you're jealous." Morgan's blue eyes turned to ice. She glared at him. He smiled lazily at her. — Samantha Long

[My guilty pleasure is a] deep, eco-unfriendly, hot bath. Preferably with a glass of champagne and someone sitting on the loo seat gossiping. — Prue Leith

Sitting on the hot seat of change requires much courage, patience, and persistence. — David W. Earle

Any idea how we're going to choose our best men?" Hunter asked drowsily. Roman chuckled and gently pulled free of Hunter's body before saying, "I get to play the brother card so I think that puts just you in the hot seat." Hunter — Sloane Kennedy

Then, as if getting blown up is not enough to worry about, after I take a seat on the steps, I get a look at the choir. Thirty singers and from where I'm sitting, it looks like only two of them are black. It's not like I'm saying suburban white people shouldn't sing. Because I love Van Halen's Hot for Teacher. — Sarah Vowell

She wanted to remind him, whether his family was there or not. She wanted. And wanted. And endured in her wanting: the damp seat, the dry chicken, more champagne, the headache the champagne brought, the midges, the chat, his failure, no refusal, to look, look at me, I caused a thunderstorm with my passion and I sit here shaking under my skin and you don't notice because you're trying so hard not to notice, but all the people at the table there are really only you and me and you know it, the air is charged with it, it's a heat, a hot wind, and Marina and Seely are a sham next to it, Annabel ceases to exist, is simply obliterated in the gale of it, this isn't a fantasy, not my imagination, I can tell by the way you lift your fork, by the set of your jaw, by that sixth cigarette you are smoking me, or would if you could; but how long can we sustain it, how long till eruption, till the storm returns again and they can all see what it is, what it really is? — Claire Messud

He will be with you also, all the way, that faithful God. Every morning when you awaken to the old and tolerable pain, at every mile of the hot uphill dusty road of tiring duty, on to the judgment seat, the same Christ there as ever, still loving you, still sufficient for you, even then. And then, on through all eternity. — Thomas A Kempis

[Jules] slides into a seat beside me with her hot lunch tray, sighing. "Four hours, thirty-six minutes, and twelve seconds till we're out of purgatory for the weekend."
"Maybe later," I murmur, still distracted by the day's previous events.
"So, let me show you how a conversation works. I say something, and then you say something back that actually relates to what I was talking about, as if you were even the least bit interested."
"Huh?" I say. — Jodi Picoult

I've sat on the hot seat and I felt its hotness — Bobby Gould

Is this seat taken?" a warm sexy drawl asked and I lifted my gaze and smiled up at Dank.
"Yes. I'm saving it for my smoking hot boyfriend," I replied teasingly.
Dank slid in beside me and put his arm around my shoulder. "Hmmm, well he should have gotten here sooner. You snooze, you lose. — Abbi Glines

Daemon always looks hot!!!
Stretching into the aisle, I went to drop the note back on Carissa's desk. Before it could leave my fingertips, it was snatched from my hand. Son of a donkey butt! My mouth dropped open and my cheeks burned. Twisting around in my seat, I glared at Daemon.
He held the note close to his chest and grinned. "Passing notes is bad," he murmured. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

RHAPAW ran not on gasoline, but on the inexhaustible fuel of human hope. You would sit on the blisteringly hot vinyl seat and hope she would start, and then Ben would turn the key and the engine would turn over a couple times, like a fish on land making its last, meager, dying flops. And then you would hope harder, and the engine would turn over a couple more times. You hoped some more, and it would finally catch. — John Green

There were thermal springs, and at the end of the preceding century the town had been laid out modestly as a spa. Hot water still ran in the bath house. Two old gardeners still kept some order in the ornamental grounds. The graded paths, each with a "view-point," the ruins of a seat and of a kiosk, where once invalids had taken their — Evelyn Waugh

I'm the ruler in my kingdom and my dark seat is hot. Step into my world and your heartbeat stop! — Aaron Dontez Yates

Alice Gray returned with a lacquered Japanese tray bearing two steaming cups, a sugar bowl, and a little pitcher of milk. I took a seat on the sofa. The coffee was strong and bitter. I lightened it with some milk. My hostess settled into one of the wing chairs. "Vee says Beth is missing," she said, sipping her coffee. — Janet Dawson