Index Finger Quotes & Sayings

She carried it back to me with the ribbon hooked over her long index finger, and dangled the bag in my face. I ask her to marry me and she brings me a souvenir from New York? What the fuck is that? "What the fuck is that?" I asked. "You tell me, genius." "Don't get smart with me, Mills. It's a bag. For all I know you have a granola bar, or your tampons, in there." "It's a ring, dummy. For you. — Christina Lauren

I don't know, Benes. I'm not sure I've ever really understood women for that kind of commitment.' He flipped his beer mat up int the air with his index finger and caught it in his hand. — F.C. Malby

Be in the world but not of the world.' The words are from Jesus. But I have not the slightest idea how to accomplish that or even if it's possible. The world will always poke you in the chest with its index finger. — Francisco X Stork

His fingers bent forward at the topmost joint pushing down against the tips of my nails, and his thumb rested lightly against the mole on my index finger. i thought of mosques and churches and prayer mats. Hands clasped together; one hand resting atop the other; fingers interlocked to mime a steeple. What sacred power is invested in hands?
This is not to say I was having pious thoughts. — Kamila Shamsie

I watched her index finger trace the barbed wire tattoo that wrapped around my bicep. "Was this to signify anything?"
"Not really." Even a gentle touch from her made my pulse jump. "I got it after I graduated high school. I was so pissed that my parents were gone. Thought I was badass."
She smiled and kissed my chest. "You just made love to me on a Harley. You are totally badass. — Lisa Kessler

There was nothing in the fourth stack. Not even a possible. A hundred and sixty gone by. Neagley slid the final forty into place. Reacher watched Klopp. One card at a time, left thumb and index finger, held easy, not near and not far. Decent vision, with his glasses on. Genuine concentration. Not a bored blank stare or an impatient sneer. A calm focus. He was interrogating the photographs, one by one, point by point. Eyes, cheek bones, mouth. Yes or no. No, — Lee Child

Too bad you didn't just take Max up on his offer, Four. Well, too bad for you, anyway," says Eric quietly as he clicks the bullet into its chamber. My lungs burn; I haven't breathed in almost a minute. I see Tobias's hand twitch in the corner of my eye, but my hand is already on my gun. I press the barrel to Eric's forehead. His eyes widen, and his face goes slack, and for a second he looks like another sleeping Dauntless soldier. My index finger hovers over the trigger. "Get your gun away from his head," I say. "You won't shoot me," Eric replies. "Interesting theory. " I say. — Veronica Roth

Blake studied the satisfied expression on Eliza's face. Like a cat just finished the last bowl of cream. His hand rose involuntarily - how he'd like to strike her! Elisa barely flinched. But Blake wasn't going to assault the woman. Instead he dropped his hand slightly and carefully traced his finger down her cheek until it rested above a strategically placed, heart-shaped beauty spot. He peeled off the tiny piece of black leather and held it between his index finger and thumb, studying it with apparent fascination.
"We have one thing in common, Aunt 'Lizzie'. We have both lost our hearts. But our likeness stops there. Unlike you, I wish to find mine." After flicking her beauty spot onto the floor, he stepped on it and strode out of her parlour. — Tanya Kaley

I've had a fountain pen surgically implanted in my left index finger to save trouble. My body is tattooed with line upon line of truth, fiction, and a not-always-pleasing mix of the two. — Chila Woychik

Sig idly stuck her index finger in her cup of steaming-hot coffee and stirred it. I couldn't decide it it was mildly erotic or mildly disgusting. — Elliott James

He turns another page, and I read:
I'M NOT ETHAN ...
... AND I'M NOT GOING TO GIVE UP ...
... UNTIL I CAN PROVE TO YOU ...
... THAT YOU ARE THE ONLY THING THAT MATTERS.
He flips to the next page.
SO KEEP SENDING ME AWAY ...
... BUT I'LL JUST KEEP COMING BACK TO YOU.
AGAIN ...
He flips to the next page.
... AND AGAIN ...
And the next:
... AND AGAIN.
Goose bumps rise to the surface of my skin. I shiver, hugging myself tightly.
AND IF YOU CAN EVER FIND IT IN YOUR TO FORGIVE ME ...
... I WILL DO EVERYTHING IT TAKES TO MAKE IT UP TO YOU ...
He closes the notebook and tosses it beside him. It lands on the roof with a dull thwack. Then, lifting his index finger, he draws an X across his chest.
Cross my heart. — Katie Klein

The Patrician could read," said Spelter. "Not if you cut off his index finger," said Carding. — Terry Pratchett

It's 2006, why are they still using the index finger? — Karl Pilkington

I am a very good imitation, but I am not really a good person. I have done many very bad things, and I hope to live long enough to do many more. And to be completely objective, I almost certainly deserve all the things Hood and Doakes wanted to do to me. But while I wait for the long arm of the law to grab me by the neck, I also deserve to breathe air that is not fouled with the stench of unwashed and rotting dental apocalypse. I put a stiff index finger into Hood's sternum and pushed him away. For a moment he thought he was going to tough it out - but I had chosen my spot well, and he had to back off. "You can arrest me," I told Hood, "or you can follow me. Otherwise, get out of my way." I pushed a little harder and he had to take another step back. "And for God's sake, brush your teeth." Hood — Jeff Lindsay

He glances down and notices that I'm still wearing a certain blue something, and, this time, it's HIS index finger that wraps underneath MY rubber band.
I shiver wonderfully. "I'm never taking it off."
Cricket brushes the delicate skin of my wrist. "It'll fall off."
"I'll ask you for another one."
"I'll give you another one." He smiles and touches his nose to mine. — Stephanie Perkins

Pinky: I've been in this kind of situation before. Fourth finger: I've felt these feelings before. Middle finger: I've survived them every time. Index finger: Everybody dies eventually. Thumb: That includes my enemies. — Elliott James

Sheila taught me a survival technique for getting through seemingly intolerable situations-boring lunches, stern lectures on attitude or time management, those necessary breakup conversations, and the like: maintaining eye contact, keep your face inscrutable and masklike, with your faintest hint at a Gioconda smile. Keep this up as long as you possibly can, and just as you feel you are about to crack and take a letter opener and plunge it into someone's neck, fold your hands in your lap, one nestled inside the other, like those of a supplicant in a priory. Now, with the index finger of your inner hand, write on the palm of the other, very discreetly and undetectably, "I hate you. I hate you. I hate you ... " over and over again as you pretend to listen. You will find that this brings a spontaneous look of interest and pleased engagement to your countenance. Continue and repeat as necessary. — David Rakoff

She squinted at his nametag. Her eyes weren't quite working. "What's your name?"
"Stig."
"Stick?" she asked, half ready to believe it.
He shook his head and pointed his long index finger at the name stitched on his uniform. "S-T-I-G. Stig."
Harriet's breath caught. "I can't believe it. I've been looking for you. — Kimberly Karalius

Look at your hand. Its structure does not match the structure of assertions, the structure of facts. Your hand is continuous. Assertions and facts are discontinuous ... You lift your index finger half an inch; it passes through a million facts. Look at the way your hand goes on and on, while the clock ticks, and the sun moves a little further across the sky. — Michael Frayn

Ha! Good luck, lady!" Gustav laughed and tapped his thick index finger against his temple. "No one knows what goes on inside this head. Not even me. — Christopher Healy

I am the proud indentured servant of a brilliant art adviser who may or may not have purposely stapled my index finger to a manila folder — Sloane Crosley

All I cared about then was catching a glimpse of Chairman Mao. I turned my eyes quickly away from Liu to the front of the motorcade. I spotted Mao's stalwart back, his right arm steadily waving. In an instant, he had disappeared. My heart sank. Was that all I would see of Chairman Mao? Only a fleeting glimpse of his back? The sun seemed suddenly to have turned gray. All around me the Red Guards were making a huge din. The girl standing next to me had just pierced the index finger of her right hand and was squeezing blood out of it to write something on a neatly folded handkerchief. I knew exactly the words she was going to use. It had been done many times by other Red Guards and had been publicized ad nauseam: "I am the happiest person in the world today. I have seen our Great Leader Chairman Mao!" Watching her, my despair grew. Life seemed pointless. A thought flickered into my mind: perhaps I should commit suicide? — Jung Chang

Her dark brown eyes were staring straight at him. "Pretty teeth." She had a light Texan accent. Not as hearty as the others he'd been hearing on his ride from California. "Long."
Her right index finger was in his mouth. It suddenly occurred to him that he hadn't yet retracted his canines. She smiled at him. "You're pretty too." Wow, she was REALLY drunk. With a sudden surge of strength, she slammed Zach against the far alley wall. Then
she was leaning into him, "I've never seen anyone as pretty as you." Zach had been called a lot of things in his lifetime, "pretty" had never been one of them. She growled as she smiled ... uh, no ... leered at him.
She kissed him — Shelly Laurenston

I expected everyone to file out of the room, but the wedding party began to embrace happily. Raymond grabbed me. "God, you're a mess." He wiped the dampness on my cheeks with his index finger. "Such a mush. — Santino Hassell

Just one more?" he said, holding up his thumb and index finger to indicate tiny. Oh so small. "Just one more little one? I don't think that was my best work, and what if this is the only time we ever kiss? Then you'll go on for the rest of your life thinking that's the best I can do. I don't think my ego can take that."

He sure as hell hoped this wouldn't be the only time they ever kissed. In fact, he was going to make damn sure of it, and then some. But for the moment, this angle was going to work for him. He could see her indecision. He leaned closer, his lips nearly touching hers. Her eyes fluttered shut as he whispered against her mouth, "Just one more. — Tracy Brogan

Why do you haunt me? You, like a tattoo on my tongue, like the bay leaf at the bottom of every pan. You who sprawled out beside me and sang my horoscope to a Schubert symphony, something about travel and money again, and we lay there, both of our breaths bad, both of our underwear dangling elastic, and then you turned toward me with a gaze like two matches, putting the horoscope aside, you traced my buried ribs with your index finger, lingered at my collarbone, admiring it as one might a flying buttress, murmuring: Nice clavicle. And me, too new at it and scared, not knowing what to say, whispering: You should see my ten-speed. — Lorrie Moore

Of all the parts of your body, be most vigilant over your index finger, for it is blame-thirsty. A pointed finger is a victim's logo. — Joseph Brodsky

Never give up on learning because what you put up there in your brain," he indicated my head with his index finger, "the Communists won't ever be able to take away from you. — Teodor Flonta

Are you an atheist?"
"Oh no, I honor all the gods."
"And how many belong to that all?"
"Countless. And one."
"How meaningless!"
"'Oliness, let me hear you count to one."
"One."
"Point at that one."
Brownpony stirred restlessly. Finally he tapped his index finger against his temple.
Wooshin laughed quietly. "Wrong. You had to think about it too long. And you didn't count to one. You counted from one and stopped. The one is countless. — Walter M. Miller Jr.

I remained completely conscious of Jeremiah. He smelled good. He looked good. He sounded good. And when he ran his tongue across the salt on that place between his index finger and his thumb, I wanted to be that little spot. -from chapter Lick, Drink, Suck!, The Boots My Mother Gave Me — Brooklyn James

Artemis Fowl grinned right back at him and pointed his index finger to the sky ... from the tip of this finger sprang a small blue spark that exploded like a tiny firework.
"I know magic can be stolen," said Artemis. "Because I stole some myself. — Eoin Colfer

Sebastian tapped his index finger on the polished wood thoughtfully. Yes, it was a universal truth: some things once broken were broken forever - like trust. It might be patched up and smoothed over, but it would always be the thing that had once been shattered. — Carol Oates

I like ethics." The question of morality, how and why do people behave in certain ways. "And the principle of knowledge." I continue, "I've read this one." I show him On Certainty (book) by Ludwig Wittgenstein wrapped in my hand.
"An intelligent one, that is, though, modern mind rarely appreciates such kind of writing. Not any more. I studied philosophy myself, and you know what I think? Every branch of knowledge needs philosophy for it helps to organise the flow of ideas and articulate meanings.
I could not agree more to that. "Do you think it will be deserted one day?"
"Probably. Nobody will bother about it any more, just like history. What is the only thing people become more interested in nowadays?" he asks. "Making money." His thumb rubs repeatedly over the tip of the index finger. "Philosophy and history are considered as eccentric. They don't usually offer people high income, and that's the inexorable reality. We've got to deal with it anyhow. — Aishah Madadiy

I needed an adult female wearing a tight sleeveless cheongsam mini-dress to help me learn Chinese. All my senses would have to focus; otherwise I would end up knowing nothing. Tracing each Chinese character upon the small of her back with my index finger was only proper way to begin a lesson. — Matt Muller

Got us a full moon too coming tomorrow night. Just make things a whole lot worse. All we need.
- Why is that?
- What's that, Marshal?
- The full moon. You think it makes people crazy?
- I know it does.- Found a wrinkle in one of the pages and used his index finger to smooth it out.
- How come?
- Well, you think about it - the moon affects the tide, right?
- Sure.
- Has some sort of magnet effect or something on water.
- I'll buy that.
- Human brain,- Trey said, - is over fifty percent water.
- No kidding?
- No kidding. You figure ol' Mr. Moon can jerk the ocean around, think what it can do to the head. — Dennis Lehane

Right," I fumed, my index finger poking him in the
chest. "So we're even then. My kiss didn't count because it
was an accident and yours didn't count because it was
strictly for medical purposes. Neither of them counted as
kisses."
"Would you have wanted them to?" Brent demanded
suddenly, bending his neck so he whispered it in my ear — Lani Woodland

You do not want to be a noble person?" She held her thumb and index finger close together. "A little bit?"
He shook his head. "I've gt nothing against noble people, I've just noticed they rarely live past forty."
"Neither do gangsters."
"True," he said, "but we eat in better restaurants."
(Live By Night - Dennis Lehane) — Dennis Lehane

They don't like me at all," Bunny said, " I went through puberty a little earlier than expected, that's all,"
A dark-brown eyed girl with a bowl-shaped haircut named Evelyn Vega pressed her index finger to her forehead. "Why don't we express a different kind of love, like the shopaholics we are?" She said. — Tiffany Fulton

He props his elbow on the table,
absently scratches his temple with his index finger, and I remember exactly what that index finger did to me earlier. How he circled my nipples with that finger, how he slipped it between my legs, drenched it with my wetness
and then brought it up to his mouth, licking it, tasting me, his gaze never leaving mine ... — Monica Murphy

Liv held out her right index finger. "I've got a splinter that I can't get out. It's killing me and affecting my duty."
"Uh-huh." I examined the minuscule speck that could be dirt. — Maria V. Snyder

Neumann One, if he were not scheduled to die ten weeks from now in the Allied invasion of Normandy, might have become a barber later in life, who would have a smelled of talc and whiskey and put his index finger into men's ears to position their heads, whose pants and shirts always would have been covered with clipped hairs, who, in his shop, would have taped postcards of the Alps around the circumference of a big cheap wavery miirror, who would have been faithful to his stout wife for the rest of his life
Neumann One says, Time for haircuts. — Anthony Doerr

With me and my girl, I'm number one - and she's the index finger. We're the same, but I go where she points. — Jarod Kintz

Whatev was the first hand sign I learned at college, but there were several popular then. There was the thumb-and-index-finger L held against the forehead, which meant Loser. The whatev W could be flipped up and down, W to M to W to M, in which case it meant Whatever, your mother works at McDonald's. 'Cause that's the way we rolled back in '92. — Karen Joy Fowler

To stand on stage means to have arrogance. Faith! You must believe in it."
"In what?"
"In the audience. If you succeed, they will love you like never before. If you fail, the audience will hate you at first. But," he lifted his index finger, "they will still love you because you had the courage to sacrifice yourself for art. Respect, you see. If you play from fear," he shrugged, "you have lost them before you have even begun. — Emma Raveling

Oi, mate," he said, jabbing his thick index finger square in the center of Richard's chest. "No need to get grabby, is there? — Stacia Kane

It (the slider) just rolls off of your index finger and begins it's spin which will take it down and across the plate (hopefully). Just remember not to twist your elbow or wrist. It should be thrown, with the wrist and grip set, just like your fastball, slightly off center - with the same velocity and intensity. — Steve Carlton

Clair put down her knife and pickle, then wiped her hands. As she came toward Clay she pulled a large bobby pin from the back of her hair, and her long, thick locks cascaded down her back. She took Clay's right hand and kissed each of his fingertips, licked his thumb, then took his index finger in her mouth and made a show of removing it slowly and with maximum moisture. Clay looked at the floor, shaking. "Baby," she said as she placed the bobby pin firmly between Clay's wet thumb and index finger, "I need you to go over to that wall and take this bobby pin and insert it ever so firmly into that electrical outlet over there." Clay looked up at her at last. "Because," she continued, "I know that you aren't mad at me and that you're just grieving for your friends, but I think you need to be reminded that you aren't invulnerable and that you can hurt even more than you do now. — Christopher Moore

But all attractions are alike,' he said. 'They come from an emptiness inside.' He hammered on this chest with his index finger. 'Something's missing and you have to fill it. Books, paintings, people, they're all the same...'
'A lot of people do without books and paintings.'
'True,' he said, 'but that doesn't affect the argument.' Paris turned his head to one side and chewed on his lip. 'Of course, nothing ever does the trick. Nobody's really satisfied for long. — Siri Hustvedt

I'm confused right now." I rub my sweaty palms on my knees.
Oak drags his index finger along my lower lip. "I know, baby. And scared?" I give a small nod. "I'm scared too. But let's work this out together. Let's see where it goes. We don't need labels or words. We just need to be together. — Erin Watt

This pointing-hand gesture - with its index finger and thumb extended upward - is a well-known symbol of the Ancient Mysteries, and it appears all over the world in ancient art. This same gesture appears in three of Leonardo da Vinci's most famous encoded masterpieces - The Last Supper, Adoration of the Magi, and Saint John the Baptist. It's a symbol of man's mystical connection to God." As above, so below. The madman's bizarre choice of words was starting to feel more relevant now. "I've never seen it before," Sato said. Then watch ESPN, Langdon thought, always amused to see professional athletes point skyward in gratitude to God after a touchdown or home run. He wondered how many knew they were continuing a pre-Christian mystical tradition of acknowledging the mystical power above, which, for one brief moment, had transformed them into a god capable of miraculous feats. — Dan Brown

Only some, mind you, she said coyly, raising her index finger, waggling it at us. But they were Godless, and that can make all the difference, don't you agree? I — Margaret Atwood

I'm not sure what I feel. All I know is that I'm tired of being the innocent bystander who gets punched in the gut. It's their fight - Mom and Dad's. But how come Heath and I are the ones who end up bruised?" He rearranged one of my braids and wound the loose tail around the tip of his index finger. "Because everything we do in life affects someone else. Buddhists say that inside and outside are basically the same thing. It's like we're all trapped together in a small room. If someone pisses in the corner, we all have to worry about it trickling across the floor and getting our shoes wet. — Jenn Bennett

Why does he have such an unnerving effect on me? His over-whelming good looks maybe? The way his eyes blaze at me? The way he strokes his index finger against his lower lip? I wish he'd stop doing that. — E.L. James

Lick my finger so I can scan your table of contents- fuck the index- I yearn to ride your story line. — Brandi L. Bates

Depends on whether you talk to the Montgomery sisters," he said to Lindsey.
Holly chuckled lightly. "Now, that's a whole other old TV show mash-up right there. Hmm ... I'd say 'Charmed' meets 'The Golden Girls'."
"With a little 'Bewitched' thrown in for fun." Carden pressed his index finger to the tip of his nose and twitched it back and forth, somehow making himself seem more irresistible. — Tracy March

I'm glad you needed a ride tonight," he said, his gaze on the TV. "I'm glad I was around when you needed that ride. It worked out, but you look tired."
"I am."
Cooper ran his index finger along my face and under my chin. "I'm messing with you, but that's all it is. I'm just teasing. I know you're tired and nothing's going to happen tonight. You can rest your eyes until the pizza comes and I won't take advantage of that. I want you to want it too. Not to be an unwilling victim like with those assholes at the party. I don't take shit from girls. They offer it enthusiastically and I know you will too eventually, but you need to make me work for it first. I appreciate you keeping my seduction skills sharp."
Grinning, I rolled my eyes. "Life must be great with your giant brain and even bigger ego."
"Yeah, it's pretty amazing. — Bijou Hunter

Make a conscious choice. Decide to move your index finger. Too late! The electricity's already halfway down your arm. Your body began to act a full half-second before your conscious self 'chose' to, for the self chose nothing; something else set your body in motion, sent an executive summary - almost an afterthought - to the homunculus behind your eyes. That little man, that arrogant subroutine that thinks of itself as the person, mistakes correlation for causality: it reads the summary and it sees the hand move, and it thinks that one drove the other. But it's not in charge. You're not in charge. If free will even exists, it doesn't share living space with the likes of you. — Peter Watts

I've been frozen solid against the wall in Mazzo's, staring at my index finger for a couple of hours, when my dead brother Morton shows up. He does that literally. I mean, I look down on one side and see him coming up through the floor. Nothing special about that. People have been showing up through the floor all evening. They pop up and mushroom in bursts, clumps of people that explode and disappear. In the Mazzo theme park it's another of those acid nights. — John David Morley

Just as some people enjoy knitting in front of the television, Mrs. Bennet was fond of perusing housewares catalogs; indeed, the sound of pages turning, that quick flap when no item caught her eye and the pauses when something did, the occasional businesslike lick of the index finger, was one of the essential sounds of Liz's childhood. This habit was also, apparently, what allowed Mrs. Bennet to maintain a belief that she had not actually "watched" a wide variety of shows even though she had been in the room for the duration of entire episodes and, in some cases, entire seasons. They — Curtis Sittenfeld

One last thing," he said. "Stop looking for me."
"I'm not looking for you." I scoffed.
He touched his index finger to my forehead, my skin absurdly warming under his touch. It didn't escape me that he couldn't seem to stop finding reasons to touch me. Nor did I miss that I didn't want him to stop. "Under all the layers, a part of you remembers. It's the part that came looking for me tonight. It's that part that's going to get you killed, if you're not careful."
We stood face-to-face, both of us breathing hard. The sirens were so close now.
"What am I supposed to tell the police?" I said.
"You're not going to talk to the police."
"Oh, really? Funny, because I plan on telling them exactly how you rammed that tire iron into Gabe's back. Unless you answer my questions."
He gave an ironic snort. "Blackmail? You've changed, Angel. — Becca Fitzpatrick

You killed him."
I held up my index finger and my thumb, slowly closing the gap between them, peering over at Dre through the tiny slit that remained. "Little bit."
"I don't think you can kill someone a little bit."
"Oh, well then, a lot bit. I killed him a lot bit. — T.M. Frazier

The Alchemyst leaned forward, and for a moment, it looked as if he was about to put his hand on the king's shoulder. hen he drew it back and asked gently, "What are you remembering now, Gilgamesh?"
The king pressed his index finger into the page, rubbing silver tears into the paper. "The day someone cared enough to shed a tear for me. — Michael Scott

You could kiss me, we've hardly kissed since you've come back. You didn't meet another woman while you were gone did you?" I traced around the outline of his lips with my index finger.
"There are other women out there?" The look on his face was one of genuine surprise.
"Oh, you're good." I kissed his cheek. "Did you come up with that all by yourself, or is it a line from one of your old movies?"
"All by myself." Seth put his arms around my waist and drew me close. — Sherry Gammon

Almost unbidden, he released the safety, and his index finger slid inside the guard. — Jonathan L. Howard

Is the diameter of your index finger equal to or greater than the diameter of a super absorbency tampon? — Julie Cross

I recognized Meg's swirly handwriting and crooked my index finger into the side of the envelope to rip it open. There was no letter. Just a picture.
A picture of Meg holding a picture of me.
The word HOME echoed through my body like a rifle shot. — Laura Anderson Kurk

The basis of computer work is predicated on the idea that only the brain makes decisions and only the index finger does the work. — Brian Eno

He shook his head and said, "No, He just went up," pointing his index finger to the ceiling of the room. — Neal Pylant

Before I could say anything, Jamie began writing giant letters over the words with his index finger.
F-U-C-K Y-O-U.
My sentiments exactly. — Michelle Hodkin

He raised a hand and she closed her eyes on instinct. She waited, expected to feel his fingers in her hair. When he touched her she snapped her eyes open and let out a gasp. His index finger was tracing a slow, tender path from the side of her face and along her scar. No one had touched her scar before except her surgeon. No one had wanted to and why should they? It was horrible. It was ugly. It was a disfigurement. As if reading her mind, he spoke. 'You're beautiful, Honor. — Mandy Baggot

He rubbed his feet back and forth on the library carpet and when she walked by, he touched her with the tip of his index finger — Jonathan Goldstein

She smiled at him, that same look of shared understanding, then reached in again to touch his hand, pinching his palm between her thumb and index finger. 'You OK?'

'I could be on fire, but seeing you would make it all OK,' he replied, his voice as brittle as a three-pack-a-day smoker. — Sean Black

If you take your thumb and your index finger and look right where they meet - go ahead and do that now - and relax your hand, you'll see a crinkle, and then a wrinkle within the crinkle, and a crinkle within the wrinkle. Right? Your body is covered with fractals. — Ron Eglash

He sat up straight, eyes wide, and touched the tip of his index finger to his cheek. "What was that?"
I blushed. "A kiss."
"That's what a kiss feels like?"
"Well, technically. There are a lot of different types of - "
"Show me."
"Show you what?"
"Show me some other kinds."
"You're asking me to kiss you?"
(Dez and Kale) — Jus Accardo

The only way you can write the truth is to assume that what you set down will never be read. Not by any other person, and not even by yourself at some later date. Otherwise you begin excusing yourself. You must see the writing as emerging like a long scroll of ink from the index finger of your right hand; you must see your left hand erasing it. — Margaret Atwood

Verily, the index finger that testifies to the oneness of Allah Azzawajal in prayer, utterly rejects to write even an alphabet, endorsing the rule of the tyrant — Sayyid Qutb

Life should be like a basket of chicken wings: salty, full of fat and vinegar, and surrounded by celery you'll never actually eat, even when you're greedily sopping up the last viscous streaks of buffalo sauce from the wax paper with your spit-stained index finger. Yes, — Joseph Fink

Stick out your arms," he'd say, "straight out at your sides," and when he had you in the appropriate cruciform position he'd say, "Left index finger to right index finger straight across your heart, that's the history of the Earth. You know what human history is? Human history is the nail on your right-hand index finger. Not even the whole nail. Just that little white part. The part you clip off when it gets too long. That's the discovery of fire and the invention of writing and Galileo and Newton and the moon landing and 9/11 and last week and this morning. Compared to evolution we're newborns. Compared to geology, we barely exist — Robert Charles Wilson

Okay, stud, just one more question." She formed an L with her thumb and index finger. 'Why are some people in the audience holding the sign for "loser"?'
It was my turn to laugh at her. 'That's not for loser.' I set down my soda, mirrored her gesture with my hand, then straightened our pinkies to form the sign-language letter. 'The L stands for "love". — Jeri Smith-Ready

It's too soon, too fast. We don't even know each other."
"Says who?" Ethan demanded. "Who decides how long it should take? Who makes the rules?"
Erica shrugged because she really didn't know it just seemed like common sense.
He put his index finger under her chin and swept his thumb just under her lower lip. "I do know you." He whispered. "I know you love chocolate and hate roses. I know you are kind and compassionate and generous. I know you feed the homeless and the stray cat that lives behind your apartment. I know you are a hopeless romantic. You are fiercely loyal." His eyes took on a mischievous glint. "I know you are ticklish; I know what makes you moan; I know what makes you squirm." He kissed her softly. "I know when I am with you I don't want to be anywhere else." He kissed her again and this time she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back. Their tongues tangled in a duel that left her breathless. — Melissa Hale

Closing her right hand into a fist, she folded her thumb over her index finger. Then she drew her arm back. "When you absolutely, positively have to knock a hole through something ... " The Warrior grunted as she drove her fist into the glass dome with tremendous force. " ... you cannot beat a Jeet Kune Do punch. — Michael Scott

You know I like the sex. I think the part that's not getting through to you is how very much I like all the other parts. I like what's in here," he said, stretching across her to tap her forehead with his index finger, "And I like doing the things here," he said, sweeping his thumb across her lips, "that involve talking." He traveled down her chest, tracing a line between her breasts, and landing on her heart. "I also like the things I'm seeing in here. — Lauren Blakely

The quarterback, you can play with a lot of big injuries. You get a little injury like an index finger or a thumb that most people can play with, sometimes you can't. I've stayed away from some of those. — Eli Manning

Monday ushers in a particularly impressive clientele of red-eyed people properly pressed into dry-cleaned suits in neutral tones. They leave their equally well-buttoned children idling in SUVs while dashing to grab double-Americanos and foamy sweet lattes, before click-clacking hasty escapes in ass-sculpting heels and polished loafers with bowl-shaped haircuts that age every face to 40. My imagination speed evolves their unfortunate offspring from car seat-strapped oxygen-starved fast-blooming locusts, to the knuckle-drag harried downtown troglodytes they'll inevitably become. One by one I capture their flat-formed heads between index finger and thumb for a little crush-crush-crushing, ever aware that if I'm lucky one day their charitable contributions will fund my frown-faced found art project to baffle someone's hallway. — Amanda Sledz

Cary rocked back on his heels and twirled one index finger around another in a sign meaning, wrapped around your finger.
Only fair, I thought, since he was wrapped around my heart. — Sylvia Day

(Rico) "What's it going to take to get you to dance with me?"
She crooked her index finger and motioned him to come close. "A million in your bank account and seven inches in your pants."
Without missing a beat he replied, "The million I have, but even for a woman as beautiful as you, I won't cut off three inches."
Olivia's eyes went wide and she burst out laughing. — Rita Henuber

He's, he's deserted us," he stammered, "deserted us. He got bored here with us. I'm all alone in the world, like this finger, all alone!" he repeated several times and each time held out his hand in front of him, sticking out his index finger. Then Arina Vlasyevna came next to him and, laying her grey head by his, said, "what can we do, Vasya! Our son has left the nest. Like a falcon he came to us when he wanted to, and when he wanted to he flew off. And you and I sit side by side and can't move, like mushrooms on a hollow tree. Only I'll be your true one for ever and you'll be mine. — Ivan Turgenev

The area of the brain devoted to the reading finger of expert Braille readers was much larger than that of the nonreading finger, or of either index finger in nonreaders, Pascual-Leone found. It was a clear case of sensory input increase, with the person paying close attention, leading to an expansion of the brain region devoted to processing that input. — Jeffrey M. Schwartz

He promptly pulled out a cigarette stuck it between his lips and lit it. I reached over and snagged it from between his lips and put it out.
I pointed my index finger at him. "You will not suck on this death stick in my presence," I huffed.

Sloane to Siva — Micalea Smeltzer

We all share these wishes. But also the way we look for happiness and try to avoid discomfort is the same. Who among us does not enjoy a delicious meal? Who does not wish to sleep in a safe, comfortable bed? Author, monk - or stray kitten - we are all equal in that." Across the coffee table, the history professor shifted in his seat. "Most of all," the Dalai Lama said, leaning over and stroking me with his index finger, "all of us just want to be loved. — David Michie

I have an oval-shaped scar on the knuckle of my right index finger from crashing my hand through a light fixture while practicing Elvis Presley moves in college. — Peter Lerangis

As a quiet salute to Beavis and Butthead, I held up my index finger and thumb in an "L"-the international sign for loser. — Michael Moore

So she told me a story. A story about a boy who was born with very green eyes, and the man who was so captivated by their color that he searched the world for a stone in exactly the same shade." His voice is fading now, falling into whispers so quiet I can hardly hear him. "She said the boy was me. That this ring was made from that very same stone, and that the man had given it to her, hoping one day she'd be able to give it to me. It was his gift, she said, for my birthday." He stops. Breathes. "And then she took it off, slipped it on my index finger, and said, 'If you hide your heart, he will never be able to take it from you'. — Tahereh Mafi

Is this you trying to cheer me up?"
"What are you ... going ... to do about it?" I asked. "Your Wussiness?"
He touched his index finger to my forehead. His voice was rough. "Tap. You're out, Ass Kicker. — Ilona Andrews

Music" - he smiled his glorious smile and raised his index finger - "music speaks for the soul because words are too small. — Dennis Lehane

Then he was sorry he had not learnt the art of thinking, beginning by folding back the second and third fingers the better to put the index on the subject and the little finger on the verb, in the way his teacher had shown him, and sorry he could make no meaning of the babel, raging in his head, the doubts, desires, imaginings and dreads. — Samuel Beckett

You three looking for something specific?" Her voice was surprisingly melodious.
"Any sacrificial knives?" Hi raised an index finger. "Nothing too fancy, and I'll need a no-slip grip. Me and the coven have some goats lined up for Saturday's bonfire."
I could've kicked him. I think I tried. — Kathy Reichs

In a sudden inspiration, Florentino Ariza opened a can of red paint that was within reach of the bunk, wet his index finger, and painted the pubis of the beautiful pigeon fancier with an arrow of blood pointing south, and on her belly the words: This pussy is mine. — Gabriel Garcia Marquez

She tried to open the bottle, but the top slipped through her fingers without moving. He took the bottle from her hand and opened it with his thumb and index finger. There was nothing special in the gesture and yet she found it strangely fascinating like a small heroic feat performed specially for her. — Paolo Giordano

She walked over to Ioan. "And for your information, my lord ... " She lifted his hand and put his index and middle finger upright. "I assure you that there is nothing wrong with Christian's technique or prowess."
Corryn, who had paused beside the group after Christian had lunged at Lutian, broke into laughter.
Ioan hissed at her. "What are you laughing at?"
"I was just thinking of why we can't go to Scotland anymore. Someone should tell Christian about your little problem." She held up her pinkie and wiggled it, then burst into laugher.
"You're not supposed to know anything about these matters!"
Corryn rushed off before her brother could grab her. — Kinley MacGregor