Massaging Chair Quotes & Sayings

Frost's face darkened. "What gives you the right to speak for Miss Hathaway and her family?"
Cam saw no reason to be discreet. "I'm going to marry her."
Frost nearly dropped the iron bar. "Don't be absurd. Amelia would never marry you."
"Why not?"
"Good God," Frost exclaimed incredulously, "how can you ask that? You're not a gentleman of her class, and ... hell and damnation, you're not even a real Gypsy. You're a mongrel."
"All the same, I'm going to marry her."
"I'll see you in hell first!" Frost cried, taking a step toward him.
"Either drop that bar," Cam said quietly, "or I'll dislocate your arm." He sincerely hoped Frost would take a swing at him. To his disappointment, Frost set the bar on the ground. — Lisa Kleypas

convince you there's life after the military, though," Tyler added. Joe towered behind his wife's chair, massaging — Kate Aster

It is not death that the very old tell me they fear. It is what happens short of death - losing their hearing, their memory, their best friends, their way of life. As Felix put it to me, "Old age is a continuous series of losses." Philip Roth put it more bitterly in his novel Everyman: "Old age is not a battle. Old age is a massacre. — Atul Gawande

There is a choice to make, a chance to take. — Jill McCorkle

That is to say, their thoughts came higglety-pigglety out of the big, buzzing, booming confusion of their minds, too many pouring out chaotically in the same instant. — Bernard Bailyn

The limits to innovation have nothing to do with creativity, and nothing to do with technology. They have everything to do with management capability. — Ray Stata

It's easy to be far away from people you love when you think everyone's happy. But when you find out someone needs you and you can't be there, it makes the distance grow claws and teeth and start to gnaw at your heart. — Katie Kacvinsky

Pop is totally results-oriented and there is a very strong feedback loop. — Brian Eno

We must become children again if we wish to achieve the best. — Philipp Otto Runge

He reached over and took my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. He toyed with my fingers for a while, then brought my hand up to his lips and kissed them slowly, one by one.
"What did you want to talk about tonight, Kelsey?"
"Uh ... " What the heck did I want to talk about? For the life of me, I couldn't remember. Oh yeah. I shook off my reaction to him and braced myself.
"Ren, I would kind of prefer it if you would sit across from me so I can see you. You're a little less distracting from over there."
He laughed at me. "Okay, Kells. Whatever you say."
He slid a chair across from me and then sat down. Leaning over, he picked up my foot and brought it up to his lap.
I twitched my leg. "What are you doing?"
"Relax. You seem tense." He began massaging my foot. I started to protest, but he just gave me a look. — Colleen Houck

And Clare, always Clare. Clare in the morning all sleepy and crumple-faced. Clare with her arms plunging into the papermaking vat, pulling up the mold and shaking it so, and so, to meld the fibers. Clare reading with her hair hanging over the back of the chair, massaging balm into her cracked red hands before bed. Clare's low voice is in my ear often.
I hate to be where she is not, when she is not. And yet, I am always going, and she cannot follow. — Audrey Niffenegger