J's On My Feet Quotes & Sayings

[Anna] In February, I woke up from a nap. A bouquet of flowers gathered from the various bushes and shrubs scattered around the island lay on the blanket beside me, a small length of rope wound around their stems.
I found T.J. down at the shore. "Someone's been checking the calendar."
He grinned. "I didn't want to miss Valentine's Day."
I kissed him. "You're sweet to me."
Pulling me closer, he said, "It's not hard, Anna."
I stared into T.J.'s eyes, and he started to sway. My arms went around his neck and we danced, moving in a circle, the sand soft and warm under our feet.
"You don't need music, do you?"
"No," T.J. said. "But I do need you. — Tracey Garvis-Graves

I saw something moving round the foot of the bed, which at first I could not accurately distinguish. But I soon saw that it was a sooty-black animal that resembled a monstrous cat. It appeared to me about four or five feet long for it measured fully the length of the hearthrug as it passed over it; and it continued to-ing and fro-ing with the lithe, sinister restlessness of a beast in a cage. I could not cry out, although as you may suppose, I was terrified. Its pace was growing faster, and the room rapidly darker and darker, and at length so dark that I could no longer see anything of it but its eyes. I felt it spring lightly on the bed. The two broad eyes approached my face, and suddenly I felt a stinging pain as if two large needles darted, an inch or two apart, deep into my breast. I waked with a scream. — J. Sheridan Le Fanu

Not bad," Rhys said, peering over my shoulder.
He'd appeared moments before, a healthy distance away, and if I didn't want to startle me. As if he'd known about the time Tamlin had crept up behind me, and panic hit me so hard I'd knocked him on his ass with a punch to his stomach. I'd blocked it put - the shock on Tam's face, how easy it had been to take him off his feet, the humiliation of having my stupid terror so out in the open... — Sarah J. Maas

Say that you don't love him!" Amarantha shrieked, and the blood on my hands became the blood of that rabbit - became the blood of what I had lost.
But I wouldn't say it. Because loving Tamlin was the only thing I had left, the only thing I couldn't sacrifice.
A path cleared through my red-and-black vision. I found Tamlin's eyes - wide as he crawled toward Amarantha, watching me die, and unable to save me while his wound slowly healed, while she still gripped his power.
Amarantha had never intended for me to live, never intended to let him go.
"Amarantha, stop this," Tamlin begged at her feet as he clutched the gaping wound in his chest. "Stop. I'm sorry - I'm sorry for what I said about Clythia all those years ago. Please. — Sarah J. Maas

Roland gave her a courtier's smile. "And what sort of work do you do for my uncle?
"
Dorian shifted on his feet and Chaol went very still, but Celaena returned Roland's smile and said, "I bury the king's opponents where nobody will ever find them. — Sarah J. Maas

I belong to clever words and bedtime stories
even a good riddle or two
I belong to the sound of music
and dance to my own rhythm
I belong to the sunlight on a chilly autumn day
when the world awaits a new beginning
I belong by the shore under a star-filled sky
with the ocean caressing my feet
I belong everywhere.
And anyway I please. — M.J. Abraham

His feet started in her direction, his body following rather as a dog would its master, with no thought of deviating from the path chosen by her for him
iAm grabbed his arm and yanked him back. "Don't even fucking think about it."
Trez's first impulse was to rip himself free, even if he left his own limb behind in his brother's grip. "I don't know what you're talking about - "
"Do not make me grab your hard-on to prove my point," iAm hissed.
Numbly, Trez looked down at the front of himself. Well. What do you know. "I'm not going to ... " Fuck her came to mind, but God, he couldn't use the f-word around that female, even in the hypothetical. "You know, do anything."
"You actually expect me to believe that."
Trez's eyes flipped over to the doorway she'd disappeared through. Shit. Talk about having no credibility on the subject of abstinence — J.R. Ward

Not long after he moved, the mail carrier got embroiled in a battle with the Middletown government over the flock of chickens that he kept in his yard. He treated them just as Mamaw had treated her chickens back in the holler: Every morning he collected all the eggs, and when his chicken population grew too large, he'd take a few of the old ones, wring their necks, and carve them up for meat right in his backyard. You can just imagine a well-bred housewife watching out the window in horror as her Kentucky-born neighbor slaughtered squawking chickens just a few feet away. My sister and I still call the old mail carrier "the chicken man," and years later even a mention of how the city government ganged up on the chicken man could inspire Mamaw's trademark vitriol: "Fucking zoning laws. They can kiss my ruby-red asshole." The — J.D. Vance

Her magic sent him sprawling, and it then hurled into Rhysand again - so hard that his head cracked against the stones and the knife dropped from his splayed fingers. No one made a move to help him, and she struck him once more with her power. The red marble splintered where he hit it, spiderwebbing toward me. With wave after wave she hit him. Rhys groaned.
"Stop," I breathed, blood filling my mouth as I strained a hand to reach her feet. "Please."
Rhys's arms buckled as he fought to rise, and blood dripped from his nose, splattering on the marble. His eyes met mine.
The bond between us went taut. I flashed between my body and his, seeing myself through his eyes, bleeding and broken and sobbing.
I snapped back into my own mind as Amarantha turned to me again. "Stop? Stop? Don't pretend you care, human," she crooned, and curled her finger. I arched my back, my spine straining to the point of cracking, and Rhysand bellowed my name as I lost my grip on the room. — Sarah J. Maas

Harry uttered an inarticulate yell of rage: In that instant, he cared not whether he lived or died. Pushing himself to his feet again, he staggered blindly toward Snape, the man he now hated as much as he hated Voldemort himself
"Sectum - !"
Snape flicked his wand and the curse was repelled yet again; but Harry was mere feet away now and he could see Snape's face clearly at last: He was no longer sneering or jeering; the blazing flames showed a face full of rage. Mustering all his powers of concentration, Harry thought, Levi
"No, Potter!" [ ... ] Snape's pale face, illuminated by the flaming cabin, was suffused with hatred just as it had been before he had cursed Dumbledore.
"You dare use my own spells against me, Potter? It was I who invented them - I, the Half-Blood Prince! And you'd turn my inventions on me, like your filthy father, would you? I don't think so ... no! — J.K. Rowling

But, but, lord," Merry stammered, "I offered you my sword. I do not want to be parted from you like this, Theoden King. And as all my friends have gone to battle, I should be ashamed to stay behind."
"But we ride on horses tall and swift," said Theoden; "and great though your heart be, you cannot ride on such beasts."
"Then tie me on the back of one, or let me hang on a stirrup, or something," said Merry. "It is a long way to run; but run I shall, if I cannot ride, even if I wear my feet off and arrive weeks too late. — J.R.R. Tolkien

Because on some basic, soul-deep level within me, he is the solid ground beneath my feet. — C.J. Redwine

Tell me what I must do to atone; tell me to crawl over hot coals, to sleep on a bed of nails, to carve up my flesh. Say the word, and it is done. But let me care for you as I once did, before ... before that madness poisoned my heart. Punish me, torture me, wreck me, but let me help you. Do this small thing for me - and let me lay the world at your feet. — Sarah J. Maas

In that house I built
a bonfire that illuminated
the fecund earth around it.
And in that split-level
my friend Tommy, only eight
teeth left in his whole head,
dug a huge illegal grave
to bury his father's packhorse.
He marched that sumpter
into the dark study
and shot its head on the left
so it would fall right.
That night, as if to argue
with the day,
Karen and I made love
on the front lawn of the mansion
one cul-de-sac down,
four feet away
from what would be
a window cracked
open to allow the outside
in. — B.J. Ward

I'm not ill like that," she groaned. He sat on her bed, peeling back the blanket. A servant entered, frowning at the mess on the floor, and shouted for help.
"Then it what way?"
"I,uh ... " Her face was so hot she thought it would melt onto the floor. Oh you idiot. "My monthly cycles finally came back!"
His face suddenly matched hers and he stepped away, dragging his hand through his short hair. "I-if ... Then I'll take my leave," he stammered, and bowed. Celaena raised an eyebrow, and then, despite herself, smiled as he left the room as quick as his feet could go without running, tripping slightly in the doorway as he staggered into the rooms beyond. — Sarah J. Maas

Those eyes are seriously flirting with my pulse
and I cannot let that happen.
.
If I'm ever too tired for you, then there'd be something seriously wrong with me, babe.
.
I press a kiss on her forehead, then turn around, feeling half of me is still where she's standing.
.
I am stunned, but my feet are making their way toward him like he's a magnet and I'm a scrap of metal. I can't stop. Part of me wants to. A very small part. But I know I can't.
.
There is one flower here for every day that I have known and loved you, Natalia. One hundred and seventy two, to be exact. — J.Q. Anderson

In the bazaar today I noticed a shopkeeper sitting cross-legged on the platform of his shop making up his ledger. A common sight - but there was something wrong, I could not at first see what. Then I understood: what was his heavy ledge resting on? It was lying open before him, on his stomach, but unsupported by his free hand, not resting against his knees. What on earth was propping it up?
The problem teased my mind so much that I had to retrace my steps for another look. There he was, comfortably scribbling away in the large ledger, which was standing up, apparently unsupported, in his lap. Then, as I stared, he closed it, and got to his feet - and the mystery was explained. He had elephantiasis of the scrotum, and had been utilising this huge football of tissue as a book-rest. — J.R. Ackerley

Kyler half-jumped half-threw himself toward my open window. I was wussy. Closing my eyes, I balled my hands up near my chest and let out a little shriek. There was a sound of flesh hitting wood and my eyes flew open. He came through the open window, landing on his feet like a damn cat. He stumbled though and banged into my desk, causing books and my computer to shake.
He held his hands out to his sides and looked around slowly before his gaze settled on me. "I am awesome." I could barely breathe. "Yeah." A knock sounded on my bedroom door a second before it opened. Dad popped his head in, eyes wide. "I'm just making sure he made it up here alive." I nodded and Kyler flashed a grin. "I'm in one piece." "That's good to see." Dad started to close the door, but stopped. "Next time, use the front door, Kyler." "Yes, sir," Kyler said. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

Looking down at my feet, he laughs a little, and then says, "Don't turn your toes outward like in ballet." I turn my toes straight forward. It feels awkward. Now make a fist and keep your hand close to your face." He shows me how. "You want your weight to be on the balls of your feet, not in your heels." "That's the only thing that comes naturally to me." I'm getting frustrated. This is hard work. — E.J. Squires

them. His backhand sent the first flying a good six feet in the air and he landed with a crack on the asphalt almost fifteen feet away. It was so loud when he landed that it even caught my attention, and by this point sparkles of light were filling my eyes. The second guy couldn't stop fast enough. Wolfe's hand lanced out, wrapping around the man's throat, but I could tell his grip was less merciful because the guy's eyes were bugging out of his head and Wolfe's fingernails had dug into his skin. Blood dripped down Wolfe's fingers, mixing with the spots in my vision. I hammered the bigger man's hands and wrists, searching for leverage, but I couldn't — Robert J. Crane

Forgive us, my lord, for you have us at a disadvantage. My sister is frankly deplorable at conducting courtly conversation. The only thing worse than her ability to make appropriate small talk with royalty is her attempt to let a man lead her on the dance floor. Your timely interruption has saved me from the chore of attending dance lessons with her. My feet thank you. — C.J. Redwine

The life of each and every one of us has been written. The crucifix is my autobiography. The blood is the ink. The nails the pen. The skin the parchment. On every line of that body I can trace my life. In the crown of thorns I can read my pride. In the hands that are dug with nails, I can read avarice and greed. In the flesh hanging from him like purple rags, I can read my lust. In feet that are fettered, I can find the times that I ran away and would not let him follow. Any sin that you can think of is written there. — Fulton J. Sheen

When I was 3, my parents strapped on a pair of Playskool plastic roller skates to my feet, and that's where the story begins. — J. R. Celski

I think you are seriously overestimating my dancing abilities. My kind of dancing usually ends up on the Internet, where people watch it so they can stop feeling sorry about their own lives. You know how people say they have two left feet? It's like I have no feet and my stumps are attached to wheels shaped like triangles. — T.J. Klune

Alis's lips thinned, but she said, The next time that fool Lucien gives you advice on how to trap the Suriel, you come to me. Dead chickens, my sagging ass. All you needed to do was offer it a new robe, and it would have groveled at your feet. — Sarah J. Maas

Bwenawa brought my attention to two wooden planks raised about four feet above the ground. On the ledges were lagoon fish sliced open and lying in the sun, the carcasses just visible through an enveloping blizzard of flies. "You see, " said Bwenawa. "The water dries in the sun, leaving the salt. It's kang-kang [tasty]. We call it salt fish."
"Ah," I said. "In my country we call it rotten fish. — J. Maarten Troost

I sit back on the floor and pull my legs up, wrapping my arms around my knees. Silent tears stream from my eyes. I don't even know I'm crying until I feel them on my cheeks. "I'm just ... I'm just so tired of never having the ground under me. I feel like we're free falling, and everything around us just keeps moving in a blur, and I don't know how to make it slow down so we can land on our feet."
"I know," she says quietly, "but that's what happens when you fall in love with a force of nature. — J.M. Darhower

chest in a sensation of gut-punching fear. My hand caught me and I bounced back to my feet. So that's ice? I thought. Until now I had only seen it on TV and in the freezer. There was a black sedan in the driveway that looked like something I'd seen on a Buick commercial. My hand brushed against it as I ran down the driveway and stopped at the end. I heard the — Robert J. Crane

He stepped to her again, laid his lips on her brow. "But I want children with you, my lovely Eve. One day."
"One day being far, far in the future. Like, I don't know, say a decade when ... Hold on. Children is plural."
He eased back, grinned. "Why, so it is
nothing slips by my canny cop."
"You really think if I ever actually let you plant something in me
they're like aliens in there, growing little hands and feet." She shuddered. "Creepy. If I ever did that, popped a kid out
which I think is probably as pleasant a process as having your eyeballs pierced by burning, poisonous sticks, I'd say, 'Whoopee, let's do this again?' Have you recently suffered head trauma?"
"Not to my knowledge."
"Could be coming. Any second. — J.D. Robb

Cam was already on his feet, waiting for me. I arched my brow at him. "Following me?" "Like a true serial killer," he replied. — J. Lynn

Feyre," he said
softly enough that I faced him again. "Why?" He tilted his head to the side. "You dislike our kind on a good day. And after Andras ... " Even in the darkened hallway, his usual bright eyes were shadowed. "So why?"
I took a step closer to him, my blood-covered feet sticking to the rug. I glanced down the stairs to where I could still see the prone form of the faerie and the stumps of his wings.
"Because I wouldn't want to die alone," I said, and my voice wobbled as I looked at Tamlin again, forcing myself to meet his stare. "Because I'd want someone to hold my hand until the end, and awhile after that. That's something everyone deserves, human or faerie." I swallowed hard, my throat painfully tight. "I regret what I did to Andras," I said, the words so strangled they were no more than a whisper. "I regret that there was ... such hate in my heart. I wish I could undo it
and ... I'm sorry. So very sorry. — Sarah J. Maas

The world I held so closely, she played me like a game,
I released and left her laughing to stand on my own two feet. — Coco J. Ginger

I STOOD IN the piazza facing St. Peter's Basilica in Rome. Bodies pressed around me and a pope's voice boomed in my ears. The ground began to tremble, as if aching under the crowd's weight. The cobblestones lurched under my feet. I staggered, tripped over someone, and fell flat on my back. People started running and screaming. — J.B. Simmons

I believe that all things are connected; that we're interdependent on one another. I just like feeling the wind in my hair, the sun on my face, and the earth under my feet. It all nourishes me; my soul anyway. — J.M. Northup

I put the carpetbag on a ledge, and then, hanging upside down by my razor-clawed feet, slept until sunset. A first for me, and actually quite comfortable.
Lord help me. — J.R. Rain

Rolfe unlocked the door, muttering, "This had better be worth my time," and stalked into the awaiting dimness beyond. Then stopped dead.
Even in the watery light, Dorian could perfectly see the woman sitting at Rolfe's desk, her black clothes dirty, weapons gleaming, and her feet propped on the dark wooden surface.
Aelin Galathynius, her hands laced behind her head, grinned at them all and said, "I like this office far better thank your old one Rolfe. — Sarah J. Maas