Knee In The Neck Quotes & Sayings

I ought to break your neck!" Clayton interrupted.
Too late, Whitney realized that she shouldn't have been standing all this time on her "injured" knee.
"Allow me to congratulate you on a fine day's work, Madam," he said sternly. "In less than twelve hours, you've brought Whitticomb to your side and Cuthbert to your feet. — Judith McNaught

Love attacks. It sneaks up like a pride of lions or a pack of hyenas and eats your heart out while you watch. Love is the bully on the playground who takes your lunch money and gives you a black eye in return, the arsonist who burns your house down with you in it, the witch who lures you into her home with candy and boils you alive for dinner. Love is raw, and violent, and instantaneous. You don't fall in love; you get trampled by it. — Bart Yates

We walked to his Harley, and when I wrapped my arms around him, he rested his hand on mine.
"I'm glad you were there tonight, Pidge. I've never had so much fun at a fight in my life."
I perched my chin on his shoulder and smiled. "That was because you were trying to win our bet."
He angled his neck to face me. "Damn right I was." There was no amusement in his eyes, he was serious, and he wanted me to see it.
My eyebrows shot up. "Is that why you were in such a bad mood today? Because you knew they'd fixed the boilers, and I would be leaving tonight?"
Travis didn't answer; he only smiled as he started his motorcycle. The drive to the apartment was uncharacteristically slow. At every stoplight, Travis would either cover my hands with his, or he would rest his hand on my knee. — Jamie McGuire

Does you costume involve leather?" she'd asked. and he'd said, "Actually, yeah, it might."
it really did. it involved a leather dog collar, leather pants and a leash, and the leash was held by Ysandre, who was in skintight red rubber, from neck to knee high boots. she'd topped it off with a pair of devil horns and a red tridant.
she'd made Shane her dog, complete with furry dog mask.
***"Breathe," Myrnin said. "I'm not much for it myself, but i hear it's quite good for humans."*** — Rachel Caine

The fleabitten grey mare's short legs are slightly over at the knee, she has a Roman nose and a neck of solid muscle well-practiced at pulling her rider out of the saddle. Her head is up and a layer of sweat darkens her pale shoulders, but Alec's holding his reins tight and he's maintaining control. All the riders who have gone before on beautifully turned out, well-schooled ponies were merely passengers as their ponies jumped. Alec has harnessed the raw talent of his mare, her power barely held in check as the bell rings and he canters her around towards the first jump. Jess strains against the martingale as she charges towards the first fence and with one strong push off her hocks, flies over the jump with her knees tucked into her chest. — Kate Lattey

Way before we were scratching pictures on caves or beating rhythms on hollow trees we were perfecting the art of combining our breath and mind and muscles into fluid self-propulsion over wild terrain. — Christopher McDougall

The first arrow struck Semian in the leg, just above the knee. Semian howled, staggered and fell back into the water. The second arrow struck one of the other riders in the back. The third arrow hit the wounded dragon in the neck, which only made it hiss and snap. Kemir didn't stop to fire a fourth; instead he jogged a little deeper into the forest and then turned and followed the path of the river. The knights wouldn't follow him into the trees, he was quite sure of that, and the dragons would never find him in the dark. Not killing Rider Semian, he discovered, was immensely satisfying. Killing him was something he could do only once. He smiled to himself. — Stephen Deas

Jesus. I had a dream last night too.
You had.
I dreamt that my Grandma had just died yesterday.
Dear God.
And she had died long before I was born.
He looked at me with astounded eyes, and felt his neck, and then he patted my knee. Aisy son, he said.
Why did I dream her?
Because you never met her. The dead you never met die a little bit every day in your head. — Dermot Healy

If your ears are bigger than your mouth, you will go very far in life. — Matshona Dhliwayo

And what was she like?" "Tall, fine bust, sloping shoulders; long, graceful neck: olive complexion, dark and clear; noble features; eyes rather like Mr. Rochester's: large and black, and as brilliant as her jewels. And then she had such a fine head of hair; raven-black and so becomingly arranged: a crown of thick plaits behind, and in front the longest, the glossiest curls I ever saw. She was dressed in pure white; an amber-coloured scarf was passed over her shoulder and across her breast, tied at the side, and descending in long, fringed ends below her knee. She wore an amber-coloured flower, too, in her hair: it contrasted well with the jetty mass of her curls. — Charlotte Bronte

Remember the importance of phrases ... a piece of something, an entry, a moment, a mark. This adjusts the pressure of the giant task of creating the perfect masterwork. — Sara Genn

... .I thought we'd be okay apart, but I was sorely mistaken. I don't need much, Haven, but I do need you."
"I need you, too, you know," she said. "You make me feel safe."
Despite everything, she trusted him. She believed in him. She loved him.
And he loved her . . . more than anything in the world. She had given herself to him again, every barrier between them broken down. All of those unanswered questions, all of the worry, every single bit of it had been resolved the moment they came back together.
"Haven," he said. "If I could have anything, I know what I'd ask for now."
She pulled back from their hug to look at him with genuine curiosity. "What?"
Carmine took a step back, reaching around his neck to pull off the gold chain. He unfastened it, removing the small ring, and eyed it in his palm momentarily before dropping to his knee.
"If I could have anything in the world, it would be for you to marry me. — J.M. Darhower

Gavin! What'll I wear home?"
"Cloak." His voice roughened and he ripped harder, tossing the material to the ground. I felt his smile when he kissed my neck, and shivers ran down my back at the sound of his low growl.
"I made that! I don't have many of those, you know."
"Cam," he snaked one hand around my stomach and made his way north, slipping one hand into my corset top to grope my chest. "You won't be thinking about it when I'm inside you." His hips shifted off my back and he separated my legs with his knee, his breathing ragged against my shoulder. "Now forget the damn dress. — Rachael Wade

If drawing belongs to the world of spirit and color to that of the senses, you must draw first to cultivate the spirit. — Henri Matisse

She walked with measured steps, draped in striped and fringed cloths, treading the earth proudly, with a slight jingle and flash of barbarous ornaments. She carried her head high; her hair was done in the shape of a helmet; she had brass leggings to the knee, brass wire gauntlets to the elbow, a crimson spot on her tawny cheek, innumerable necklaces of glass beads on her neck; bizarre things, charms, gifts of witch-men, that hung about her, glittered and trembled at every step. She must have had the value of several elephant tusks upon her. She was savage and superb, wild-eyed and magnificent; there was something ominous and stately in her deliberate progress. And in the hush that had fallen suddenly upon the whole sorrowful land, the immense wilderness, the colossal body of the pensive, as though it had been looking at the image of its own tenebrous and passionate soul. — Joseph Conrad

One of his hands caught her knee from beneath, urging her leg higher against his, and he pushed strongly within her.
She shuddered, her body locked to him, and then a languorous warmth suffused her as she relaxed to his rhythm. Their clothes rustled together, crushed masses of silk and broadcloth and velvet, separating them everywhere except in the wet, naked heat of their loins. She leaned against the door, her body rising from each upward drive. She was utterly possessed by him, no longer caring about the risk they were taking, conscious only of the ecstasy of his flesh joined to hers. Muttering fiercely into the curve of her neck, he thrust faster, creating silken friction that finally drove her into a scalding orgasm. — Lisa Kleypas

There was someone sitting in his room, over on that chair -
"Are you kidding me?" He exhaled a curse and rubbed the back of his brain. "Really? Are you fucking kidding me?"
Across the way, like some fucked-up scarecrow, a pair of blue jeans, that Nirvana concert T-shirt of the angel's, the flannel bullshit, and a set of Nikes had been stuffed with God only knew what. The head of the "Lassiter" was made out of a nylon bag that had had potatoes in it, and the black and yellow hair was a collection of knee-high business socks - probably Butch's - and Swiffer cleaning rags that had been safety pinned in place.
Around its neck? A handwritten sign that read: the boss was here. — J.R. Ward

Damn, I need to come," Steele groaned and kissed the inside of Tech's knee. "Come for me." Tech took one hand from behind Steele's neck and eased it between their stomachs. "Do it. Make me come. Make me come for you." Steele closed his mouth over Tech's sensual words, spread his legs wider, and pounded at the place inside of Tech that caused him to arch his neck and yell out with each contact. He screamed Steele's name as his fist moved rapidly between them. It was the hottest thing Steele had ever seen. This proper and perfect genius giving a devil dog like him the ride of his life. — A.E. Via

Oh, I'm being eaten By a boa constrictor, A boa constrictor, A boa constrictor, I'm being eaten by a boa constrictor, And I don't like it
one bit. Well, what do you know? It's nibblin' my toe. Oh, gee, It's up to my knee. Oh my, It's up to my thigh. Oh, fiddle, It's up to my middle. Oh, heck, It's up to my neck. Oh, dread, It's upmmmmmmmmmmffffffffff ... — Shel Silverstein

Left to their own devices, most people don't want to fail. But Andrew Stanton isn't most people. As I've mentioned, he's known around Pixar for repeating the phrases "fail early and fail fast" and "be wrong as fast as you can." He thinks of failure like learning to ride a bike; it isn't conceivable that you would learn to do this without making mistakes - without toppling over a few times. "Get a bike that's as low to the ground as you can find, put on elbow and knee pads so you're not afraid of falling, and go," he says. If you apply this mindset to everything new you attempt, you can begin to subvert the negative connotation associated with making mistakes. Says Andrew: "You wouldn't say to somebody who is first learning to play the guitar, 'You better think really hard about where you put your fingers on the guitar neck before you strum, because you only get to strum once, and that's it. And if you get that wrong, we're going to move on.' That's no way to learn, is it? — Ed Catmull

Mrs. McGinty's dead..how did she die?
down on one knee..just like I
mrs. McGinty's dead..how did she die?
holding her hand out..just like I
mrs. McGinty's dead.. how did she die?
sticking her neck out..just like I — Agatha Christie

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

So I fought the demon. I remember having it on the ground and kneeling on its neck, suffocating it. I realized I was killing it, and I just slightly let my knee up. The moment I did, it filled with life and I immediately sensed the venom and evil rise in it. I instantly dropped my knee, crushing its windpipe and killi...ng it. It gave me no choice. There was too much at stake. — Sophia Van Buren

I don't think I'll ever forget the day Pat walked into the gym and found us - me, flat on my stomach with Jamie's knee digging into the back of my neck, while I yelled "Ballsack!" over and over again. — Sarina Bowen

I feel great. I had a blood clot. It was a bad deal. But when I look at my friends with hip replacements, knee replacements, shoulder replacements, neck surgeries, back surgeries, I'll take the blood clot. — Ric Flair

Imagine a man between thirty-eight and forty, tall, slim, and pale. His clothes, except for their style, looked as if they'd escaped from the Babylonian captivity. The hat was a contemporary of one of Gessler's. Imagine now a frock coat broader than the needs of his frame
or, literally, that person's bones. The fringe had disappeared some time ago, of the eight original buttons, three were left. The brown drill trousers had two strong knee patches, while the cuffs had been chewed by the heels of boots that bore no pity or polish. About his neck the ends of a tie of two faded colors floated, gripping a week-old collar. I think he was also wearing a dark silk vest, torn in places and unbuttoned.
"I'll bet you don't know me, my good Dr. Cubas," he said.
"I can't recall ... "
"I'm Borba, Quincas Borba. — Machado De Assis

He comes out in shorts and the same V-neck shirt. One of his legs from just below the knee is a prosthesis. It's made of a dark metal and has swirling, jagged patterns on it. I feel like I should have known this, but I've only seen him in pants because it's winter. "Sorry, — Alison Evans

With a great show of courage, he stepped forward and kissed me. It was nice, though once again a little underwhelming. — Richelle Mead

We're not in shock," I told her, even as I clutched the material tighter around my neck.
"Well, you all look awful," she said.
"Hell does wreak havoc on the skin," Archer quipped, but I could tell his heart wasn't in it. Under the table, I put my hand on his knee, and he covered my fingers with his own. — Rachel Hawkins

Blemish,n.
The slight acne scars. The penny-sized, penny-shaped birthmark right above your knee. The dot below your shoulder that must have been from when you had chicken pox in third grade. The scratch on your neck- did I do that?
This brief transcript of moments, written on the body, is so deeply satisfying to read. — David Levithan

There's something about dinosaurs that should be very humbling to human beings. — Colin Trevorrow

On a recent HBO special, Roseanne Arnold, who, incidentally, collects Barbies, excoriated what she considered to be Barbie's middle-class-ness. Why didn't Mattel make, say, "trailer-park Barbie"? But to many upper-middle-class women, all post-1977 Barbies are Trailer Park Barbie. Ironically, given the knee-jerk antagonism to Barbie's body, it is one of her few attributes that doesn't scream "prole." Her thinness - indicative of an expensive gym membership and possibly a personal trainer - definitely codes her as middle- or upper-middle-class. In Distinction, French sociologist Pierre Bourdieu notes that "working class women . . . are less aware of the 'market' value of beauty and less inclined to invest . . . sacrifices and money in cultivating their bodies." Likewise, Barbie's swanlike neck elevates her status. A stumpy neck is a lower-class attribute, Fussell says. — M.G. Lord

He's at ease, his body sculpted to the music, his shoulder searching the other shoulder, his right toe knowing the left knee, the height, the depth, the form, the control, the twist of his wrist, the bend of his elbow, the tilt of his neck, notes digging into arteries, and he is in the air now, forcing the legs up beyond muscular memory, one last press of the thighs, an elongation of form, a loosening of human contour, he goes higher and is skyheld. — Colum McCann

Well, PT Anderson sent me a script of Boogie Nights which I let lay around my house for about three months, then one day I'm cleaning my office and decided that I'd better read this before the guy calls me back. I never put it down, bro. — Luis Guzman

Trying to get himself back in line, he kissed the inside of her knee. She touched his hair, reaching down to loosen his ponytail like he'd done with hers. She brushed her fingers over the back of his neck, saying more with that one gesture than she could have with a thousand words.I want you. I trust you. I love you. — Cari Quinn