Lead Her On Quotes & Sayings

The prize-story experience had seemed to open a way which might, after long traveling and much uphill work, lead to this delightful chateau en Espagne. But the novel disaster quenched her courage for a time, for public opinion is a giant which has frightened stouter-hearted Jacks on bigger beanstalks than hers. Like that immortal hero, she reposed awhile after the first attempt, which resulted in a tumble and the least lovely of the giant's treasures, if I remember rightly. But the 'up again and take another — Louisa May Alcott

As Deborah sits below a tree to give advice to her people, the cat could envision itself above Deborah. In the cats mind, the visual allusion would first point to the prophetess as being a predator. This consideration would not be hard to reach for the lucid intelligent cat as she is giving advice to her people here as how to engage in war. Envisioning this text, the cats would find it hard not to recognize the predatory nature of the human beneath it. This fact means that Deborah becomes, in feline hermeneutics, the antagonist. The prophetess would be seen as a danger to the cat. This could lead the cat to deduce that the enemy of the prophetess was a fellow protagonist. Then the advice that Deborah gave to Barak would seem as a malicious attack on a ally or worse an innocent. — Leviak B. Kelly

Was she conscious of her talent? Hardly. If asked about her cooking, Grandma would look down at her hands which some glorious instinct sent on journeys to be gloved in flour, or to plumb disencumbered turkeys, wrist-deep in search of their animal souls. Her gray eyes blinked from spectacles warped by forty years of oven blasts and blinded with strewing of pepper and sage, so she sometimes flung cornstarch over steaks, amazingly tender, succulent steaks! And sometimes dropped apricots into meat loaves, cross-pollinated meats, herbs, fruits, vegetables with no prejudice, no tolerance for recipe or formula, save that at the final moment of delivery, mouths watered, blood thundered in response. Her hands then, like the hands of Great-grandma before her, were Grandma's mystery, delight, and life. She looked at them in astonishment, but let them live their life in the way they must absolutely lead it. — Ray Bradbury

She stood on the edge of tomorrow, a one person vanguard that believed. The city would soon follow her lead — Tommy McMahon

When they say the heart wants what it wants, they're talking about the poetic heart - the heart of love songs and soliloquies, the one that can break as if it were just-formed glass. They're not talking about the real heart, the one that only needs healthy foods and aerobic exercise. But the poetic heart is not to be trusted. It is fickle and will lead you astray. It will tell you that all you need is love and dreams. It will say nothing about food and water and shelter and money. It will tell you that this person, the one in front of you, the one who caught your eye for whatever reason, is the One. And he is. And she is. The One - for right now, until his heart or her heart decides on someone else or something else. The poetic heart is not to be trusted with long-term decision-making. — Nicola Yoon

With the advent of winter, her eyes seemed to take on a greater transparency, a transparency that lead nowhere. Occassionally, for no particular reason, Naoko would gaze into my eyes as if searching for something. Each time I was filled with odd sensations of lonliness and inadequecy. — Haruki Murakami

I wonder how it turns out that we all lead such different lives. Take you and your sister, for example. You're born to the same parents, you grow up in the same household, you're both girls. How do you end up with such wildly different personalities? ... One puts on a bikini like little semaphore flags and lies by the pool looking sexy, and the other puts on her school bathing suit and swims her heart out like a dolphin ... — Haruki Murakami

I try as hard as I know how to keep my reader relating on a broad level so I don't lead her someplace where she thinks that's the only thing that could cause insecurity. — Beth Moore

After that, Kestrel sought him out. She used the excuse of those lessons he had given her. She said that she wanted more. She acquired a number of menial skills, like how to blacken boots.
Arin was easy to find. Although raids on the countryside continued, he increasingly relied on lieutenants to lead the sorties. He spent more time at home.
"I don't know what he thinks he's doing," Sarsine said.
"He's giving officers under his command the chance to prove their worth," Kestrel said. "He's showing his trust in them and letting them build their confidence. It's sound military strategy."
Sarsine gave her a hard look.
"He's delegating," Kestrel said.
"He's shirking. And for what, I'm sure you know."
This struck a bright match of pleasure within Kestrel. — Marie Rutkoski

Isabelle chewed thoughtfully on her straw. 'That new lead singer they have is hot. Is he single? I'd like to ride him around town like a bad, bad pony- — Cassandra Clare

So your luck still holds with women, too." Ryne's laugh had an edge. Perhaps he fancied her himself. "The Light knows, they can't find you handsome; you get uglier every year. Maybe I ought to try some of that coy modesty, let women lead me by the nose." Lan opened his mouth, then took a drink instead of speaking. He should not have to explain, but it was too late for explanation with Ryne in any case. His father had taken him to Arafel the year Lan turned ten. The man wore a single blade on his hip instead of two on his back, yet he was Arafellin to his toenails. He actually started conversations with women who had not spoken to him first. Lan, raised by Bukama and his friends in Shienar, had been surrounded by a small community who held to Malkieri ways. If Lira did share his bed tonight, as seemed certain, she would discover there was nothing shy or retiring about him once they were abed, yet the woman chose when to enter that bed and when to leave. — Robert Jordan

She was a woman who lived however she wished without care for another, without putting the needs of those around her before her own selfish opinions. We are breeding a nation of such thinkers and individuals--intent on personal expression at all costs--and that will lead to war. I might be more a successful writer if I did not seek to address human truth, but rather spewed out my own limited opinions without care for reader or critic or any kind of propriety. — Erika Robuck

The thing is, she sounds fucking beautiful and I want to tell her that so badly it's giving me a headache just thinking about it, but I don't because I can't lead her on. — Melyssa Winchester

An intelligent man, or woman, is a lamp that guides itself. Let

him or her lead. Trust the knowing they browse. A half-intelligent person is one who lets

the intelligent person be guide. He holds on like the blind to the coat of a helper. Through

another, he acts and sees and learns. There is a third kind with no intellect at all, who

takes no advice, strolls out into the wilderness, runs a little to one side, stops, limps

through the night with no candle, no stub of a candle, no notion what to ask for.

The first has perfect intellect. The second knows enough to surrender to the first. One

breathes with Jesus. The other dies, so Jesus can breathe through him. The third

flops and flounders in all directions, with no direction, lurches and leaps, trying

everything, with no way or way out. — Jalaluddin Rumi

Give me your trust, said the Aes Sedai.
On my shoulders I support the sky.
Trust me to know and to do what is best,
And I will take care of the rest.
But trust is the color of a dark seed growing.
Trust is the color of a heart's blood flowing.
Trust is the color of a soul's last breath.
Trust is the color of death.
Give me your trust said the queen on her throne,
for I must bear the burden alone.
Trust me to lead and to judge and to rule, and no man will think you a fool.
But trust is the sound of the grave-dog's bark.
Trust is the sound of betrayal in the dark.
Trust is the sound of a soul's last breath.
Trust is the sound of death. — Robert Jordan

the station, but Ruth and Marie were against the idea. What if one of the neighbors saw them all waiting for Johanna? It would only lead to prying questions. So Peter was reduced to pacing up and down in front of the door like a prison warden. Ruth and Marie left him to it. It was almost eight o'clock when they finally heard him say, "She's coming!" They all rushed outside. Johanna was as white as a sheet. She didn't wave her hand, or laugh, or call out "We've got a contract!" From the look on her face and her heavy gait, there could only be one explanation. It had all gone terribly wrong. They didn't dare look at each other. They were rooted to the spot as they watched Johanna approach. Neighbors passing by on the street watched the scene in surprise. — Petra Durst-Benning

Around eighteen, Dinah suddenly became interested in acting. I worked with her on This Property Is Condemned, a Tennessee Williams one-act, for her audition for the Actors Studio. Then came Marty Maraschino in Grease, then a running part in Soap, a hot TV series. Then the lead in Neil Simon's play I Ought to Be in Pictures. She was accepted by the Studio and quickly hired by Robert Redford as the girl in Ordinary People who commits suicide. — Lee Grant

Flint is a city of a hundred thousand that was having a rough go of it even before its water was poisoned by lead. And when the water crisis finally grabbed national headlines this winter, the Democratic presidential candidates noticed. Hillary Clinton sent senior staff to investigate and asked her supporters to donate to a fund for Flint's kids. Bernie Sanders called on Michigan's Republican governor, Rick Snyder, to resign. — Tamara Keith

Thank the Good Master for his patient kindness," Dany said, "and tell him that I will think on all I learned here." She gave her arm to Arstan Whitebeard, to lead her back across the plaza to her litter. Aggo and Jhogo fell in to either side of them, walking with the bowlegged swagger all the horselords affected when forced to dismount and stride the earth like common mortals. — George R R Martin

Warriorship is an infinitely nuanced subject. A true warrior desires nothing so much as to be perfectly appropriate, "in sync" with space and time in each and every moment. The perfection of warrior timing results in a kind of invisibility. Walking between the super strings of karma, or bound activity, the warrior engages in kriya, or spontaneous action. This is the actionless action spoken of so eloquently by Krishna in the Bhagavad Gita. Only the natural perfection of kriya ensures that a warrior's actions will be of real benefit to those she serves. Walking between and in a state of total non-distraction, a warrior's invisibility is identical to her invincibility. In the warrior heart is a dynamic stillness that is unperturbed by any arising of this world, by any impediment or seeming obstacle. Even when we have not realized this perfection, it is our warrior hearts, still mostly unknown to us, that lead us steadily on to realization. — Shambhavi Sarasvati

You think I don't know what you're doing? This is a typical guy stunt. Protect the helpless female, lead the bad guy away and send her scurrying for help." He put a hand on her cheek. "If he caught up to us and something happened to you ... I don't know what I'd do." Her lips trembled, though she tried to look angry. "Macho garbage. — Maggie Shayne

In the night, I've shrunk and everyone else on the island has grown. They're all nine feet tall and men and I'm four feet and a child. Dove, too, is a toy or possibly a dog as I lead her through the throngs of people. — Maggie Stiefvater

Take off your shoes," Jake said after the kids disappeared up the stairs. Meridith eyed her leather loafers. For some reason, she was reluctant to part with them. Not to mention she needed every inch of height. "You're still wearing yours." "I'm not planning on trampling your feet." She removed her shoes and set them by the wall, taking her time. "You want something to drink? I made coffee. Or there's always tea or soda if you prefer." He tucked the corner of his lip. "No, thanks. You want to come closer? I can't teach you from over there." She inched closer. "I'm really bad." "So you said." He gestured to the blue box. "We'll start with a basic box step. Ballroom dancing is counted off like this: one-two-three, one-two-three. Max said he knows how to lead, so I'll teach you to follow." "Good luck with that." "Stand — Denise Hunter

The only furniture in the dank space was a flimsy cot. Water dripped steadily in one corner. A hole in the floor appeared to serve as a latrine. What most caught Kendra's eye were the messages scratched on the wall. She roamed the cell, reading the crudely inscribed phrases.

"Seth rules!

Welcome to Seth's House.

Seth rocks!

Seth was here. Now it's your turn.

Seth Sorenson forever.

Enjoy the food!

If you're reading this, you can read.

All roads lead to Seth.

Is it still dripping?

Seth haunts these halls.

You're in a Turkish prison!

Seth is the man!

Use the meal mats as toilet paper." And so forth.

Cold, hopeless, and alone, Kendra found herself giggling at the messages her brother had scrawled. He must have been so bored! — Brandon Mull

scream until the drug took her. 5 They started arriving after four o'clock in the afternoon. By five, Rachael's disappearance was the lead story on all the local news stations, even in Tucson and Phoenix. When six rolled around, there were more cars parked along No-Water Lane than when the Hasslers had hosted their last Fourth of July barbecue. Come 7:15 P.M., more than forty people had crowded into Will and Rachael's modest adobe home in Ajo, — Blake Crouch

was several yards away, Kate spun on her heel, lifting the gun upwards. She took a step back to lead him into the lamp glow that shone bright in a nearby window. If he would attack — Erica Monroe

I held Angie Luna in that room for hours, and I remember the different times we made love like epochs in a civilization, each movement and every touch, apex upon abyss. In the luxury of our bed, we tried every position and every angle. I explored the curves on her body and delighted in seeing the freedom of her ecstasy. Her desperate whispers and pleas. I told her I loved her, and she said she loved me too. We lay in bed with our limbs entangled, in a pacific silence that reminded me of existing on a beach just for the sake of such an existence. I couldn't imagine the world ever becoming better, and for some strange reason the thought slipped into my head that I had suddenly grown to be an old man because I could only hope to repeat, but never improve on, a night like this. I finally took her home sometime when the interstate was empty, and the bridges seemed to lead to nowhere, for they were desolate too. — Sergio Troncoso

Amanda took the lead following her sense of smell. On the other hand, I followed a werewolf who was leading me by her nose. Not sure, which of us was crazier. — Jazz Feylynn

But it was worth it. The blonde was some dancer. She was one of the best dancers I ever danced with. I'm not kidding, some of these very stupid girls can really knock you out on a dance floor. You take a really smart girl, and half the time she's trying to lead you around the dance floor, or else she's such a lousy dancer, the best thing to do is stay at the table and just get drunk with her. — J.D. Salinger

Heterosexual relationships seem to lead only to marriage, and for most poor dumb brainwashed women marriage is the climactic experience. For men, marriage is a matter of efficient logistics: the male gets his food, bed, laundry, TV, pussy, offspring and creature comforts all under one roof, where he doesn't have to dissipate his psychic energy thinking about them too much - then he is free to go out and fight the battles of life, which is what existence is all about.
But for a woman, marriage is surrender. Marriage is when a girl gives up the fight, walks off the battlefield and from then on leaves the truly interesting and significant action to her husband, who has bargained to 'take care' of her. What a sad bum deal.
Women live longer than men because they really haven't been living. Better blue-in-the-face dead of a heart attack at fifty than a healthy seventy-year old widow who hasn't had a piece of life's action since girlhood. — Tom Robbins

I passed the friendship centre and nodded to an old couple on the porch. Kookum smiled back and nodded, a cotton kerchief on her head. Moshum's eyes squinted, too, but never looked straight at me, just glanced my presence once, and that was enough. Old school. I knew that when they stood up to hobble home, he would lead a few feet ahead, and she would follow. They grew up in the bush and still walked the same way, as if the wide road was nothing more than a narrow path through the muskeg and spruce. — Joseph Boyden

It is a mistake to think that some of our impulses - say mother love or patriotism - are good, and others, like sex or the fighting instinct, are bad ... There are situations in which it is the duty of a married man to encourage his sexual impulse and of a soldier to encourage the fighting instinct. There are also occasions on which a mother's love for her own children or a man's love for his own country have to be suppressed or they will lead to unfairness towards other people's children or countries. — Timothy Keller

In famine, a focus on women and children highlights biology: here is a mother who cannot feed her child, a breakdown in the natural order of life. This focus obscures who and what is to blame for the famine, politically and economically, and can lead to the belief that a biological response, more food, will solve the problem. — Sharman Apt Russell

Beyond The Sea"

Somewhere beyond the sea
Somewhere waiting for me
My lover stands on golden sands
And watches the ships that go sailing

Somewhere beyond the sea
She's there watching for me
If I could fly like birds on high
Then straight to her arms
I'd go sailing

It's far beyond the stars
It's near beyond the moon
I know beyond a doubt
My heart will lead me there soon

We'll meet beyond the shore
We'll kiss just as before
Happy we'll be beyond the sea
And never again I'll go sailing

I know beyond a doubt
My heart will lead me there soon
We'll meet (I know we'll meet) beyond the shore
We'll kiss just as before
Happy we'll be beyond the sea
And never again I'll go sailing

No more sailing
So long sailing
Bye, bye sailing... — Bobby Darin

During her sixty-one years on the planet - minus 343 hours, 47 minutes, 32 seconds in space - she joined, then helped lead, the boldest steps yet taken to explore and protect the big blue marble that is our home. As the popular image of women progressed from Doris Day to Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and the real boundaries were expanded from the secretarial pool to the ocean of space, she helped prove that The Right Stuff doesen't require the right plumbing; that girls and women can do anything they want. — Lynn Sherr

My eighth grade teacher, Mrs. Pabst, had done her master's thesis on Tolkien. She showed me how the trilogy was patterned after Norse mythology. She was also the first person to encourage me to submit stories for publication. The idea of writing a fantasy based on myths never left me, and many years later, this would lead me to write Percy Jackson. — Rick Riordan

Well ... what did you promise exactly? Not to tell anyone that Eric Dragomir had a mistress and baby?"
Sonya nodded.
"And not to tell who they were?"
Sonya nodded again.
Sydney gave Sonya the warmest, friendliest smile i'd ever seen on the Alchemist. "Did you promise not to tell anyone where they are?" Sonya nodded, and Sydney's smile faltered a little. Then her eyes lit up. "Did you promise not to LEAD anyone to where they are? — Richelle Mead

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

She had died in her sleep, painlessly and calmly, and on her face was a smile- as if, after all, death had come as a kindly friend to lead her over the threshold, instead of the grisly phantom she had dreaded...Anne, looking down through a mist of tears, at her old playfellow, thought she saw the face of God had meant Ruby to have, and remembered it so always. — L.M. Montgomery

As always, we sit on the narrow steps that lead from the Old Bridge down to the sandbar. A pale silver moon trembles on the face of the water. A wooden boat lashed to a post modulates the sound of the current. Sitting with her, I feel her warm against my arm. — Haruki Murakami

Say did you read in the papers about a bunch of Women up in British Columbia as a protest against high taxes, sit out in the open naked, and they wouldent put their clothes on? The authorities finally turned a Sprayer that you use on trees, on 'em. That may lead into quite a thing. Woman comes into the tax office nude, saying I won't pay. Well they can't search her and get anything. It sounds great. How far is it to British Columbia? — Will Rogers

Try to look less conspicuous," he instructed.
A dog barked, rushed to the end of its lead, and bared its teeth. Gregori turned his head and hissed, exposing white fangs. The dog stopped its aggression instantly, yelped in alarm, and retreated whining.
"What are you doing?" Savannah demanded, outraged.
"Getting a feel for the place," he said absently, his mind clearly on other matters, his senses tuned to the world around him. "Everyone is crazy here, Savannah. You are going to fit right in." He ruffled her hair affectionately. — Christine Feehan

It is better to be alone, she figures, than to be with someone who can't see who you are. It is better to lead than to follow. It is better to speak up than stay silent. It is better to open doors than to shut them on people.
She will not be simple and sweet. She will not be what people tell her to be. That Bunny Rabbit is dead. — E. Lockhart

What you call your life is not yours at all
not yours to plan, manipulate, or control, at least not very often ... In fleeting moments of deep satisfaction and insight, I saw the absolute truth of life: the unbroken line of love that had led to my existence and would lead on through my daughter. My mother's love, her mother's love, her mother's love, and back and back forever ago. Love that is no mere word, love that goes beyond feeling, love that is life itself ... What miracles, what sacrifice, what love! ... Can you imagine this love? Can you anticipate it, fabricate it, measure and evaluate it? No you can't, you can only be love, and your child will release its magnitude within you. — Karen Maezen Miller

And that's the last oath I shall ever be able to swear," she thought; "once I set foot on English soil. And I shall never be able to crack a man over the head, or tell him he lies in his teeth, or draw my sword and run him through the body, or sit among my peers, or wear a coronet, or walk in procession, or sentence a man to death, or lead an army, or prance down Whitehall on a charger, or wear seventy-two different medals on my breast. All I can do, once I set foot on English soil, is to pour out tea and ask my lords how they like it. D'you take sugar? D'you take cream?" And mincing out the words, she was horrified to perceive how low an opinion she was forming of the other sex, the manly, to which it had once been her pride to belong. — Virginia Woolf

I'm not Dead-Eye Dan. I gave up chasin' bounties and don't plan on ever goin' back. I ain't a dime-novel hero, but I'm steady, I work hard, and I'll do my best to give you the life you deserve." Etta opened her mouth, but he shook his head at her, needing to get everything said at once. "I know I'm a good deal older than you, twelve years by my count, and most young ladies would probably wish for someone younger, less tarnished. I've seen a lot of ugliness in this life, Etta. I won't lie to you about that. I'm rather set in my ways and opinionated about how things oughta be done, but I'd like to think that God gave me some wisdom over the years, too. Wisdom that will help me be the husband and father I want to be, one who will lead his family in a way that honors the Lord." Dan — Karen Witemeyer

They knew what gunfire meant better than anyone. Some were crying by the time they reached the exit and stepped outside into the afternoon air. The sun was already descending in the sky, leaving shadows crawling across the valley floor. Not daring to look behind her, Khalia's eyes fixed on her target, the emergency bunker. Across the expanse of lush green grass before her, the beckoning hillside seemed impossibly far away. A warning prickle began at her nape, as if someone had her in their sights and was taking aim at her. More shots erupted from the hills behind them. The lead group broke — Kaylea Cross

Let's go for a walk, Mollie." Frank Spencer stiffened, but Mollie's annoying lawyer spoke in a calm voice. "They say that when a wolf wants to lead a sheep to slaughter, he'll try to cut her off from the herd where he can do his worst in private." There was snickering around the firelight as the entire herd moved in to protect the object of his affections. With the grinning faces of several men gloating at him, it would be impossible to sneak Mollie away. Zack turned to her with a pleasant smile on his face. "You know how in mythology the blind man is always the source of great wisdom and insight? Why couldn't you find one of those blind guys to be friends with?" Frank appeared flattered by the statement. He grinned as he warmed his hands before the brazier. — Elizabeth Camden

I walked back to the kitchen, each foot a lead weight. Delia stood there, holding a sponge and staring down at the linoleum. "Will carpet cleaner work even if it's not used on carpet?" she asked.
"You should go," I told her. I looked down at the floor and pretended to be fascinated with the little blue dot pattern.
Delia came closer to me, seeing the freak I truly was. With one finger, she traced an X over her chest. "I won't tell."
One traitor tear slicked its way down my cheek; I scrubbed it away with a fist. "You should go,"I repeated, the last thing in the world that I wanted.
"Okay." Delia agreed. But she didn't leave. — Jodi Picoult

And how grave and dangerous it is to search curiously into the things passing our understanding, to put faith in what is new without consulting the opinion of the Church and its prelates; and even to invent new and unaccustomed things, for devils are wont to insinuate themselves into this kind of oddity, either by occult instigation or by visible apparitions in which they transform themselves into angels of light, and beneath an appearance of piety or some other good they lead one on to pernicious pacts, plunge one into error, as is permitted by God to punish the presumption of those who allow themselves to be carried away by such things. Therefore he admonished her to renounce these vain imaginations, to cease propagating such falsehoods, and to return to the way of truth. — W.P. Barrett

I've wandered as far west as I can go. Sitting now on the sand, I watch the sun blur into an aftermath. Reds finally marrying blues. Soon night will enfold us all. But the light is still not gone, not yet, and by it I can dimly see here my own dark hallway, or maybe it was just a foyer and maybe not dark at all, not in fact brightly lit, an afternoon sun blazing through the lead panes, now detected amidst what amounts to a long column of my yesterdays, towards the end, though not the very end of course, where I had stood at the age of seven, gripping my mother's wrists, trying as hard as I could to keep her from going. — Mark Z. Danielewski

I'VE SAVED THE BEST FOR LAST: There is ONE technique that can work to both find the risk, and close the deal. BUT it's a delicate one that requires mastery through preparation and practice. The strategy is called: What's the risk? What's the reward? When a prospect hesitates, you simply ask him or her to list the risks of purchase. Actually write them down. Prompt others. If the prospect says "I'm not sure," you ask, "Could it be ..." After you feel the list is complete, ask the prospect to list the rewards. Write them down, and embellish as much as possible without puking on the prospect. Then eliminate the risks one by one with lead in phrases like: Suppose we could ... did you know that ... I think we can ... Then you simply ask, "can you see any other reasons not to proceed?" One at a time, brick by brick, remove the risks that the buyer perceives as fatal mistakes in his decision-making process. Then drive home the rewards, both emotionally and logically. — Jeffrey Gitomer

A certain person wondered why a big strong girl like me wouldn't keep a job which paid a normal salary. I took my time to lead her and to read her every page. Even minimal people can't survive on minimal wage. A certain person wondered why I wait all week for you. I didn't have the words to describe just what you do. I said you had the motion of the ocean in your walk, and when you solve my riddles you don't even have to talk. — Maya Angelou

All right," said Kaz. "Let's talk in the solarium. I'd prefer not to sweat through my suit." When the rest of them made to follow, Kaz halted and glanced over his shoulder. "Just me and the privateer."
Zoya tossed her glorious black mane and said, "We are the Triumvirate. We do not take orders from Kerch street rats with dubious haircuts."
"I can phrase it as a question if it will make your feathers lie flat," Kaz said.
"You insolent - "
"Zoya," said Sturmhond smoothly. "Let's not antagonize our new friends before they've even had a chance to cheat us. Lead on, Mister Brekker. — Leigh Bardugo

Kylie bit down on her lip. Burnett took a step forward. He squared his shoulders, empathy filling his eyes. He took a deep, apparent heartfelt breath and looked at Kylie. She nodded at him as if giving him the lead. He looked back at Holiday and, in a deep voice, said, "Kylie has something to tell you."
Kylie's mouth fell open and right then she knew it was official. Men sucked at verbal communication especially where anything emotional was concerned. — C.C. Hunter

A little later Anastasia was sitting before her bedroom fire writing. It has a magic of its own - the bedroom fire. Not such a one as night by night warms hothouse bedrooms of the rich, but that which burns but once or twice a year. How the coals glow between the bars, how the red light shimmers on the black-lead bricks, how the posset steams upon the hob! Milk or tea, cocoa or coffee, poor commonplace liquids, are they not transmuted in the alembic of a bedroom fire, till they become nepenthe for a heartache or a philtre for romance? Ah, the romance of it, when youth forestalls to-morrow's conquest, when middle life forgets that yesterday is past for ever, when even querulous old age thinks it may still have its "honour and its toil"! — John Meade Falkner

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

Ah." Ax nodded. "She does not understand how menacing we are." He tapped her on the shoulder. "You do not know me," he said, "but I am a juvenile delinquent. I do not trust authority figures, I probably will not graduate from high school, and statistics say my present rowdiness and vandalism will likely lead to more serious crimes. I am a dangerous fellow and I am causing mayhem in this store." He reached behind her and pulled three jars of baby food from the top shelf. Shoved them behind a box of macaroni. Shuffled the Chess Whizzed in front of the Marshmallow Fluff. Tossed a bag of lady's shavers onto a bag of hamburger buns. "There. I have now shamelessly destroyed the symmetry of this shelf, undoing hours of labor by underpaid store employees. If you could see me, you would be frightened." "If she could see you, she'd have you committed," Marco muttered. — Katherine Applegate

Elle got up and walked over to the window. She put her hands up on the clear glass and surveyed the vast gardens below. Fiorins stood in clusters outside the castle-like structure. They whispered. Some simply stood and looked up at her.

One Fiorin put his hand over his heart. And then another and another followed his lead. Soon, Fiorins flew from all corners of Fiori. They stood with their hands over their hearts, looking up at her., They were smiling. She felt her hear grow warm. This was what love felt like. This was the inspiration that every child on Earth deserved. — Peggy M. McAloon

This is it." Morgan gestured to the French doors like she was modeling a prize on a game show. "Here we have door number one. Will it lead our contestant to the dog-faced man of her dreams? Or will she find an axe-wielding psychopath? Stay tuned. — Cole Gibsen

If you are not the free person you want to be you must find a place to tell the truth about that. To tell how things go for you. Candor is like a skein being produced inside the belly day after day, it has to get itself woven out somewhere. You could whisper down a well. You could write a letter and keep it in a drawer. You could inscribe a curse on a ribbon of lead and bury it in the ground to lie unread for thousands of years. The point is not to find a reader, the point is the telling itself. Consider a person standing alone in a room. The house is silent. She is looking down at a piece of paper. Nothing else exists. All her veins go down into this paper. She takes her pen and writes on it some marks no one else will ever see, she bestows on it a kind of surplus, she tops it off with a gesture as private and accurate as her own name — Anne Carson

Why can't I be like that? Why can't I be the father who just shrugs off the love of his daughter? Why can't I be the Lead Inquisitor who enjoys watching his pleading victims burn at the stake? Why can't I be the one who befriends a lonely, lost girl and then casts her out? Why can't I be the one to strike first, to hit so early and with such fury that my enemies cower before they can ever think of turning on me? What is so great about being good? — Marie Lu

Is your head bothering you?" Louisa asked. But she wasn't paying much attention. Frederick, her ridiculously fat basset hounds, had spotted a fellow canine in the distance and was yanking on the lead. "Frederick!" she yelped, tripping on a step or two before she found her footing.
Frederick stopped, althought it wasn't clear if it was due to Louisa's hold on the lead or outright exhaustion. He let out a hugh sigh, and frankly, Annabel was suprised that he didn't collapse on the ground.
"I think someone has been sneaking him sausages again," Louisa grumbled.
Annabel looked elsewhere.
"Annabel!"
"He looked so HUNGERY," Annabel insisted.
Louisa motioned toward her dog, whos belly slid along the grass. "THAT looks hungery?"
"His eyes looked hungery. — Julia Quinn

All religions lead to the same God, and all deserve the same respect. Anyone who chooses a religion is also choosing a collective way for worshipping and sharing the mysteries. Nevertheless, that person is the only one responsible for his or her actions along the way and has no right to shift responsibility for any personal decisions on to that religion. — Paulo Coelho

Greymalkin was no demon familiar; she was a rambunctious cat with the playful temperament of a kitten. On those occasions when Greymalkin decided the Tarot were her playthings, Miriam knew any attempt at a reading would lead to chewed cards, overturned candles, and incense ash tracked across her tablecloth in the form of tiny gray pawprints. — Chris Dee

Harwin's eyes went from her face to the flayed man on her doublet. "How do you know me?" he said, frowning suspiciously. "The flayed man ... who are you, some serving boy to Lord Leech?"
For a moment she did not know how to answer. She'd had so many names. Had she only dreamed Arya Stark? "I'm a girl," she sniffed. "I was Lord Bolton's cupbearer but he was going to leave me for the goat, so I ran off with Gendry and Hot Pie. You have to know me! You used to lead my pony, when I was little."
His eyes went wide. "Gods be good," he said in a choked voice. "Arya Underfoot? Lem, let go of her."
"She broke my nose." Lem dumped her unceremoniously to the floor. "Who in seven hells is she supposed to be?"
"The Hand's daughter." Harwin went to one knee before her. "Arya Stark, of Winterfell. — George R R Martin

And the blood pulses hard, too hard, and some sweet internal assailant comes and quickly shreds the muscles of her shoulders and neck, and soon everything will fall and dissipate, nose and ears and the three gray cells she has left, and with all her strength she tries to calm down, she must stop this, but she is unable to give up these heartbeats, the forgotten precise heartbeats which reply as an echo, and she remembers his hand upon the tablets of her heart, her hand on his chest
feel it, our prisoners are corresponding. But how? She is amazed. How did I let Shaul lead me on like this? Where have I been all evening? But she knows exactly how and where, what she was listening to and what her heart went out to. Look at you, she sighs. No, really, look at you, you and your reaching heart. — David Grossman

Rhiss looked narrowly at her, suspicion becoming certainty in his mind as he spoke. "Did you put them to sleep?"
She looked coy. "Now, I ask you, would I do that?"
"In a moment, if it suited your purposes," Rhiss retorted. "I thought as much. What was it? Did you doctor their drinks?"
She looked scandalized. "Rhissan! I'd not do a thing like that, not to friends, at any rate. They were fair worn out, poor lambs, from all that talking and thinking. I... merely encouraged their inclination to sleep. It's a useful ability with hurt animals, you know, and it works just as well on stubborn people. They can have their afternoon nap in peace, we can have our walk, and everyone will be the happier for it."
Rhiss looked at her a moment, her lovely eyes opened wide in innocence, then burst out laughing. "Very well, Mistress Lowri. Lead on. But don't you be trying any of your trickery on me. — D.R. Ranshaw

According to that book, only one Marx contributed an unforgotten pun to the Round Tablers' vaunted word games. It wasn't Groucho, who must have been furious. Nor was it Harpo, who for all we know sat at the table naked. Nor was it Chico, who had more dangerous games elsewhere. It was Gummo. Evidently Gummo had a seat at that table at least once, and he made it count. Everybody knows that Dorothy Parker, challenged to make a sentence with the word horticulture, quipped as follows: "You can lead a horticulture, but you can't make her think." But who knew that Gummo, taking on euphoria, came up with this: LEFT TO RIGHT: Harpo, Zeppo, Chico, Groucho, and Gummo, 1957. "Go outside and play," Minnie told the brothers. "Which ones?" they asked. And she said: "Euphoria."* — Roy Blount Jr.

There's so much going on, with child abuse, not having the right relationships and being in abusive relationships, that play into her, and that energy was constantly in my body for a month. I was the lead character and it was very, very intense. — Tinsel Korey

He told himself it was unwise. She couldn't stay in these woods indefinitely. He could use her to lead him to others of her kind. Humans are social animals. They cluster like bees. The attacks relied on this critical adaptation. The evolutionary imperative that drove them to live in groups was the opportunity to kill them by the billions. What was the saying? Strength in numbers. — Rick Yancey

If she did not wish to lead a virtuous life, at least she desired to enjoy a character for virtue, and we know that no lady in the genteel world can possess this desideratum, until she has put on a train and feathers and has been presented to her Sovereign at Court. From that august interview they come out stamped as honest women. The Lord Chamberlain gives them a certificate of virtue. — William Makepeace Thackeray

His personal fulfillment did not lead him to evolve a cheerful Madonna; on the contrary this Madonna was sad; she had already, through his sculptures, known the Descent. The tranquility of his early bas-relief, when Mary still had her decision to make, could never be recaptured. This young mother was committed; she knew the end of her boy's life. That was why she was reluctant to let him go, this beautiful, husky,healthy boy, his hand clasped for protection in hers. That
was why she sheltered him with the side of her cloak.
The child, sensitive to his mother's mood, had a touch of melancholy about the eyes. He was strong, he had courage, he would step forth from the safe harbor of his mother's lap, but just now he gripped her hand with the fingers of one hand, and with the
other held securely to her side. Or was it his own mother he was thinking about, sad because she must leave her son alone in the world? Himself, who clung to her? — Irving Stone

She looked into Matt's eyes. 'Even so, I love you.'
Matt smiled at her and winked. 'I know.'
Celeste and Julie both smacked him.
'This would be an appropriate time not to be a dork or a smartass,' Julie said.
Celeste popped her head into the front seat. 'Be the hero, Matty. Come on. You're supposed to be the hero now. The romantic lead.'
'I know that, too,' he said. Matt did not hesitate a moment longer. 'Julie, I love you. I absolutely love you.'
'Good,' Celeste said, satisfied. 'Now it's time to jump. — Jessica Park

Yeah, I got her," Will confirms.
"Who you got?" I ask.
"You, drunk girl. Come on." He turns to lead me toward the exit, and I start to follow him, but for some reason my feet don't work very well.
"Um, Will?"
"Yeah?"
"I lost my feet."
"What?" he laughs and pinches the bridge of his nose.
"I can't find my feet."
Why is everyone laughing at me? This is serious! — Kristen Proby

You have to earn it.' Vhalla didn't know what else to say. She had trusted him, to lead her, to teach her, and he broke that trust. It wasn't as though it was something she could simply start again on command. — Elise Kova

Since being back in London everything seemed greyer, but clearer. She couldn't explain it. The strangest thing was she couldn't recall her New York self. She wanted that part of herself back, but she couldn't remember what it was like to be that Elle. She would catch a whiff of it, like the snatch of a song that still won't lead you to the chorus, and then it would be gone. — Harriet Evans

What are you looking at, Matthias?" The low thrum of her voice vibrated straight through him.
He kept his eyes on the ceiling, whispering softly. "Nothing."
"Matthias, are you praying?"
"Possibly."
"For restraint?" she said sweetly.
"You really are a witch."
"I'm not proper, Matthias."
"I am aware of this." Miserably, keenly, hungrily aware.
"And I'm sorry to inform you, but you're not proper either."
His gaze dropped to her now. "I - "
"How many rules have you broken since you met me? How many laws? They won't be the last. Nothing about us will ever be proper," she said. She tilted her face up to his. So close now it was as if they were already touching. "Not the way we met. Not the life we lead. And not the way we kiss. — Leigh Bardugo

She is your treasure, she must have a husband;
I must dance bare-foot on her wedding day
And for your love to her lead apes in hell.
Talk not to me: I will go sit and weep
Till I can find occasion of revenge.
— William Shakespeare

She watched his throat move, and then, he reached out and touched her face. "You sure are pretty," he said. "It's the stone," she replied immediately. Her skin felt warm; his fingertip touched just the very edge of her mouth. "It's flattering." Adam gently pulled the stone out of her hand and a set it on the floorboards between them. Through his ingers he threaded one of the flyaway hairs by her cheek. "My mother used to say, 'Don't throw compliments away, so long as they're free." HIs face was very earnest. "That one wasn't mean tho cost you anything, Blue." Blue plucked at the hem on her dress, but she didn't look away from him. "I don't know what to say when you say things like that." "You can tell me if you want me to keep saying them." She was torn by the desire to encourage him and the fear of where it would lead. "I like when you say things like that." Adam asked, "But what?" "I didn't say but." "You meant to. I heard it. — Maggie Stiefvater

The African Challenge - We must end conflict in Africa. We must lead to allow the Africans to enjoy the benefits from their natural resources. We must end poverty in Africa. Every African must be educated, have access to health care and a fair chance to fulfil their dream. Preventable sickness and disease must not reduce life expectancy or rob pregnant women of a chance to continue living. Africa must develop. Africa must not depend on foreign aid. Africa must be united and governed more effectively. Africa must customize her leadership culture and philosophy in a way that gives her global relevance and respect but still remain true and authentic to herself. Will you accept the challenge? Will you be that Africa? — Archibald Marwizi

Ready?" he asked. He motioned for her to look to the sky.
She'd been on enough long walks with her father to know it was time to open her mind. Their times in nature usually held a secret surprise. It could be anything, really - a rainbow touching the snow or heart-shaped shade cast by a pair of trees. Anything. Today, the gift was being outside the second it started to snow.
"Ooh, Daddy! Look, it's like a salt shaker!" She stuck her tongue out for the newborn snowflakes.
Blake followed her lead. Snow tasted sweeter with Emme around. — Debra Anastasia

Go hide," Jonas said softly. "Stay safe. You're free now. When this is over, no matter what happens, find someone loyal to Cato and say you need Nathanial's tracker off of you. I have plenty of money and everything you could possibly need. Find someone from-" Emmy slapped him across the face. Red blotches appeared on her cheeks. "Don't be daft. I'm going to kill that sonuvabitch Nathanial and earn my place among your people. Lead the way to this Sasha." "You don't know how to-" Another slap cut Jonas off. "Fair enough."

-Jonas & Emmy — K.F. Breene

I would let her ... have adventures. I would let her ... choose her path. It would be hard ... it was hard ... but I would do it. Oh, not completely, of course. Some things have to go on. Cleaning one's teeth, arithmetic. But Maia fell in love with the Amazon. It happens. THe place was for her - and the people. Of course there was some danger, but there is danger everywhere. Two years ago, in this school, there was an outbreak of typhus, and three girls died. CHildren are knocked down and killed by horses every week, here in these streets
" She broke off, gathering her thoughts. "When she was traveling and exploring ... and finding her songs, Maia wasn't just happy, she was ... herself. I think something broke in Maia when her parents died, and out there it healed. Perhaps I'm mad
and the professor too
but I think children must lead big lives ... if it is in them to do so. — Eva Ibbotson

Writing this, he had reached the pit of despair and he thought that reading it, she would at least begin to sense his tragedy and her part in it. It was not that she had ever forced her way on him. That had never been necessary. Her way had simply been the air he breathed and when at last he had found other air, he couldn't survive in it. He felt that even if she didn't understand at once, the letter would leave her with an enduring chill and perhaps in time lead her to see herself as she was. — Flannery O'Connor

I enjoy watching people fall in love on-screen so much that I can suspend my disbelief for the contrived situations that only happen in the heightened world of romantic comedies. I have come to enjoy the moment when the normal lead guy, say, slips and falls right on top of the hideously expensive wedding cake. I actually feel robbed when the female lead's dress doesn't get torn open at a baseball game while the JumboTron is on her. — Mindy Kaling

I took my coffee into the dining room and settled down with the morning paper. A woman in New York had had twins in a taxi. A woman in Ohio had just had her seventeenth child. A twelve-year-old girl in Mexico had given birth to a thirteen-pound boy. The lead article on the woman's page was about how to adjust the older child to the new baby. I finally found an account of an axe murder on page seventeen, and held my coffee cup up to my face to see if the steam might revive me. — Shirley Jackson

You still excite me after all this time, probably even more so now than in the beginning." My voice is a low threatening growl as the fingers on my free hand slide her panties over to reveal what I already know to be true; she is wet. "I love the way your body responds to me." I pull her from the wall and lead her to the fainting couch adorning the sitting area in my office. Brushing her hair back from her ear, I lean in and whisper, "Turn around, bend over, and put your hands on the end of the couch. I don't care what I do to you, those hands better not fucking move out of position. — Suzanne Steele

Abigail laughed. "Poor Adam. Probably thought he'd found a woman who would follow his lead, do everything he said. Got a banshee instead. I need one of them big windows for you two to work it out against. Zoe, do we have a big window somewhere? Adam's particularly good with windows. Maybe he could convince her that way."
Talia's face heated, but she ignored Abigail, stubbornly crossing her arms and blocking the door.
Adam looked back at Abigail. "Can you quit mocking me for a minute and help me convince her to stay?"
Abigail shrugged. "Why would I waste my time doing that when I know very well that she goes with you?"
Talia controlled a smug smile.
"She - ? What - ?" Adam stammered. Then he turned to Talia. "Oh, hell. Come on. — Erin Kellison

I didn't want her turned, against both her will and nature, into those diligent, sad women who are bent on a lifelong course of quiet servitude, forever in fear of showing, saying, or doing the wrong thing. Women who are admired by some in the West- here in France, for instance- turned into heroines for their hard lives, admired from a distance by those who couldn't bear even one day of walking in their shoes. Women who see their desires doused and their dreams renounced, and yet- and this is the worst of it- if you meet them, they smile and pretend they have no misgivings at all. As though they lead enviable lives. But you look closely and you see the helpless looks, the desperation, and how it belies all their show of good humor. I did not want this for my daughter. — Khaled Hosseini

But Bruce pushed her back ever so slightly. "In dancing, at least, the guy still takes the lead." His meaning wasn't lost on Jessica. She'd have to be less aggressive if she wanted to keep him interested. "Then I'll follow wherever you lead," she said with uncharacteristic submissiveness. — Francine Pascal

You know,' Mrs Dunne said, 'you can come use my phone whenever you need to,' She stood up and sat on the edge of her desk, resting her hand on Eleanor's knee. Eleanor was this close to asking for a toothbrush, but she thought that would lead to a marathon of hugging and knee-rubbing. — Rainbow Rowell

She's not my girlfriend. We're just friends," I said automatically.
"Shut up. You're so whipped I should buy you a saddle." Which he would've said about any girl I talked to, talked about, or even looked at in the hall.
"She's not. Nothing's happened. We just hang out."
"You're so full of crap, you could pass for a toilet. You like her, Wate. Admit it." Link wasn't big on subtleties, and I don't think he could imagine hanging out with a girl for any reason other than maybe she played lead guitar, except for the obvious ones. — Kami Garcia

She was too stunned to object as her mother slipped the chain over her head and arranged the amulet down her front. It hung almost to her navel, a warm, heavy weight. "Never take it off. Never lose it." Her mother kissed her brow. "Wear it, and know that you are loved, Fireheart - that you are safe, and it is the strength of this" - she placed a hand on her heart - "that matters. Wherever you go, Aelin," she whispered, "no matter how far, this will lead you home. — Sarah J. Maas

Allowing Marcus to lead her back to the Toyota, she glanced over her shoulder at Kerrie. "You - if you come near us again, I'll make you choke on your own ovaries. And I'll enjoy it. What's more, I'll make you enjoy it. Just sayin'. — Suzanne Wright

know how to lead. I was a twin who was on her own. I was a daughter with missing parents. I had a half dozen suitors and wasn't sure how to be in love. The — Kiera Cass

Every muscle in his body seemed to be crying out to him--- she thinks this is a date; don't lead her on. Yet in spite of this, Peter found himself saying, ' I like your hair — Charlie Lovett

Thank you for saving him," Evie heard herself say to Westcliff, still staring at her husband.
The earl slid her a sideways glance. "You saved him, Evie on the night you offered to marry him. Which is evidence, I suppose, that moments of lunacy can occasionally lead to positive results. [ ... ] — Lisa Kleypas

She's a cautious one, he observed. Kiss her once, and she seemed to question it all. But allow her to lead, and the caution seemed to fade. He knew she was trying to figure him out, trying to match his story to the man she saw sitting across from her. But there was no mistaking the sympathy on her face the moment she realized how similar they were. — Nicholas Sparks

although the mission seemed doomed to fail, the four angels might succeed. He prayed also for Dallas Garner, the baby whose life hung in the balance. And for a generation who might never find redemption otherwise. FOUR EMPTY CHAIRS faced each other at the center of the adjacent room. Jag took the lead as they entered the space and shut the door behind them. Windows lined the walls, flooding the place with light and peace. When they were seated, Jag studied his peers. "Are you surprised?" Beck leaned back. Rays of sunshine streamed through the windows and flashed in his green eyes. He breathed deep, clearly bewildered. "Shocked." "It's true, we know the humans better." Ember ran her hand over her long, golden-red hair. Concern knit itself into her expression. "But if they suspect us, it could alter their choices. We must be so very discreet." Jag nodded. "Discretion will be key." He planted his elbows on his knees, leaning closer to the others. — Karen Kingsbury