Mouth Note Quotes & Sayings

By the day's end I realized that there were a zillion ways to apologize to someone, but none of them mattered if you never opened your mouth. — Jennifer Jabaley

He exuded ambiguities she decided, that was his fascination.
His mouth spoke; his eyes said something other: his smile belied everything ...
He played with the language of the Circle of Days like a child with an arsenal of twigs ...
His music said otherwise it seemed to echo through time out of a past as old as the stones on the hill. He lied with every note he played.
Or in his music he finally told the truth. — Patricia A. McKillip

But singing isn't just about belting it out, is it? It's not just who has the most wobble or the highest note, no, it's about phrasing, and being delicate, and getting just the right feeling from a song, the soul of it, so that something real happens inside you when a man opens his mouth to sing, and don't you want to feel something real rather than just having your poor earholes bashed in? — Zadie Smith

He leans forward and his mouth brushes briefly
against mine, and I feel ... nothing.
I was hoping our first kiss would trigger all sorts of memories or sensations, maybe a sudden image of Paris or our wedding, or our first snog. But as he draws away I feel totally, one hundred percent blank.
I can see the anticipation in Eric's face and quickly search for something encouraging to say.
"That was lovely! Very ... " I trail off, unable to think of a single word other than quick, which I'm not sure hits the right note.
"It didn't bring back any memories?" Eric is studying my face.
"Well ... no," I say apologetically. "But, I mean, that doesn't mean it wasn't really ... I mean it was ... I feel quite turned on!" The words come out before I can stop them.
What the hell did I say that for? I don't feel turned on.
"Really?" Eric lights up and he puts his briefcase down.
Oh no. No no no. Nooo. — Sophie Kinsella

The note of almost unbearable irritation sounding through the deliberately calm tone in which he has just spoken penetrates her child's heart like a cruel needle of ice. Her face falls grotesquely, her mouth trembles, tears - the sudden, despairing tears of a hurt child - fill her eyes to the brim. — Anna Kavan

I adored you. All my life, I adored you. I asked nothing of you. No promises, no courtship. I surrendered my virtue. I gave you my trust. And you left me with a note."His mouth twisted in an expression of regret. He pushed a hand through his hair. "I'm so very - " "Twenty-six words!" she shot back, in the loudest whisper she could manage. "I gave you my virginity, and you left me twenty-six scribbled words. — Tessa Dare

He threads a hook, re-sews his mouth, cuts off the thread-tails with the razor blade. It's a simple task, no more difficult than shaving. He can do it in the dark. He can do it in a thirty-knot wind and seven-foot seas. He can do it in his sleep, and he probably has.
(Margin note in reference to excerpt above "Per Dr. B: it's easy to get used to doing things that are harmful to ourselves- do it often enough + it becomes ordinary/habitual- just how you live. — Doug Dorst

He made a mental note to tell that to Tom as the man half collapsed on him for a few moments. He reached up, ran a hand through Tom's sweat-soaked hair, yanking him down hard for a kiss. Tom's tongue claimed his mouth, his way of telling Prophet that it wasn't over, not until Tom said so. And no, he wasn't stopping. The rest of it was a blur, with Tom pulling out, turning Prophet onto his back, taking his time licking, sucking, not leaving any of Prophet's skin untouched. And Prophet was patient enough to allow it, the haze of orgasms softening him for the moment. That — S.E. Jakes

A wicked grin crinkled one corner of his mouth as he secured another sticky note on the door before shutting it in my face.
I blinked, then read the note.
Use the key. — Darynda Jones

My worst mistake ever. We should not talk about that penny any more, la la la."
He pulled her hands down. "We're never going to stop talking about it. That penny is one of my favorite memories."
Her mouth dropped open. "Liar! You only liked what came afterward. You hated having your penny stolen."
"True," he admitted. "But I loved the note you left me. — Thea Harrison

Note to self; try to act normal when coming in contact with the prettiest boy you've ever seen. Note. Mouth closing and drool sucked back in and hopefully not noticed. Check. — Amy Lunderman

I made a mental note to write starlings in my "Southern Speak" notebook. I'd already started the second page, thanks to Faye and Bobbie. One corner of his mouth turned up in a smile. "I try. So, Churchville. Let me see the map."
I followed his directions, asking questions, until he drew a big circle around the funeral home. "That's it right there, just off 42. Or Buffalo Gap Highway. But you might not see any road signs. Out there things are a little...well, less posted. People just sort of know where they are. So look for these things." He drew in some more notes and--I'm not making this up--something like bugs with stick legs.
"What are those?" I asked, not intending to sound rude. "Roaches?"
"Those are cows. There's a pasture here."
"Oh. — Jennifer Rogers Spinola

Natasha, with a vigorous turn from her heel on to her toe, walked over to the middle of the room and stood still ... Natasha took the first note, her throat swelled, her bosom heaved, a serious expression came into her face. She was thinking of no one and of nothing at that moment, and from her smiling mouth poured forth notes, those notes that anyone can produce at the same intervals, and hold for the same length of time, yet a thousand times leave us cold, and the thousand and first time they set us thrilling and weeping. — Leo Tolstoy

Christopher forced her to look back at him. "Loved?" he asked hoarsely. "Past tense?"
"Present tense," she managed to say.
"You told me to find you."
"I didn't mean to send you that note."
"But you did. You wanted me."
"Yes." More tears escaped her stinging eyes. He bent and pressed his mouth to them, tasting the salt of grief.
Those gray eyes looked into hers, no longer bright as hellfrost, but soft as smoke. "I love you, Beatrix."
Maybe she was capable of swooning after all. — Lisa Kleypas

I made a mental note to familiarize Fabian with modern artillery so he'd be able to give better descriptions.

"Machine guns?" I asked, miming holding one and making a series of rapid staccato noises.

Bones's mouth twitched, but he dipped his head so I wouldn't see his clear amusement over my "GI Jane does Pictionary" imitation. — Jeaniene Frost

I said to Mr. Pavarotti once ... a marvelous man and a great artist ... I said to him ... "Maestro, I'm having trouble closing out a note so that it's almost as thin as a butter knife ... finish it out quietly like that." I said, "I have trouble doing that. What do you think I should do?" He said, "Justa close up your mouth." That's all he said, and I fell on the floor. I thought he was gonna give me a dissertation. — Frank Sinatra

And I thought of us, years and years later, you and I, in Paris, and how you seemed to be saying we had every choice, every chance. You acted as though you were free, but you were a ransom note. I paid to watch. I watched your fingers, your red mouth. I watched you undress. I didn't see you go.
Later I was still paying and I never counted the cost. You were worth it. Again and again you were worth it. My heart has unlimited funds. Draw on them. Draw them down. Draw me down on top of you. How much? Everything? All right. — Jeanette Winterson

I remembered a numeric code. He could have been using counters to help him write in it."
"Or," said Roshar, "your father will read the note, see one code when he expects another, and will send someone to the station, where there's a dead body."
"If so," Arin said, "then we're no worse off than we were before."
"Oh yes, we are. The general will know the letter's a ploy, and will do the opposite of what we want. He'll ignore the main road. He'll take back roads through the forests where our guns would be of dubious use and we wouldn't have the advantage of height. You know this."
Arin shut his mouth, glancing uneasily at Kestrel. Yes. He had known this, as had she. She felt worse for his effort to make her mistake seem smaller. He knew its true size.
Roshar leaned back in his creaking chair. His eyes slid from Arin to Kestrel, black as lacquer, the green lines around them fresh. "Can you tell me anything more cheerful than all this? — Marie Rutkoski

The only clothes Amanda has are the ones on her back. (Kyrian)
From what I saw, she had no clothes whatsoever on her back. Her front neither. (Nick)
One day, Gaitor bait ... (Kyrian)
Note to self- be nice to woman, keep mouth shut. (Nick) — Sherrilyn Kenyon

Clench clench these strong teeth in this strong mouth. My mouth. Of my body. In my house. My mouth? Chapped lips swollen and bloody? Dream dreaming wide and thunder? My mouth! My God! This is me speaking. Not mouthing. Not typing and twitching. Not writing a suicide note the length of a novel that will never be finished. I hear voices now but I know they are not the voices of fathers or lovers, or mothers or angels or demons, but the sounds of my own private wars echoing the battles of women before me and near me. No wonder I do not make people comfortable. I am a mirror. I have far too many things to say. (p. 237-238) — Camilla Gibb

He slid a finger inside her, making her breath catch. She was tingling all over again, already wanting more. "This is all for me." There was a possessive note in his words that made her clench around his finger.
"Yes," she whispered.
And that made something dark flare in his gaze before he captured her mouth in a frenzied mating. One thing she was sure of, they wouldn't be getting to sleep for a while. — Katie Reus

Just a note: it was impossible to stay pissed at a handsome man when he had his mouth between your legs.
Especially if he really, really knew how to use that mouth. — Kristen Ashley

You get this drama, babe, you got until the end of Tack's meeting to burn it out, but mark this, Lanie. After that meeting, I don't give a fuck if you're strapped into a rocket to go to the goddamned moon, I'm findin' you, we're sortin' this shit out and we're movin' on," he warned. "I just made a mental note to find a plastic surgeon who does emergency face alterations so you won't know who to look for," I shot back. "Jesus, I'm pissed as all fuck and still she's cute," he groused like he wasn't talking to me but actually complaining to the Son of God. "Jesus works on Sunday, Hop. You want a direct line, time to haul your biker ass to church," I shared. "You want me to let you go so you can burn this out, you better stop bein' cute, lady. You keep bein' cute, I'll kiss you in the goddamn forecourt and I won't give a fuck who sees." I snapped my mouth shut. "That's what I thought," he — Kristen Ashley

(A man who traffics in words, I thought, should come up with better ones than that.) The note felt toxic; it left a funny taste in my mouth. Metallic, like lead paint, or the prodrome of a migraine. When had he written it? And why? Maybe someone else had done it for him. While I'd had my back turned, had he just been pretending to write? Everything about it made me ill. And then there was what the note said. What — Alena Graedon

Its so hard to talk when you want to kill yourself. That's above and beyond everything else, and it's not a mental complaint-it's a physical thing, like it's physically hard to open your mouth and make the words come out. They don't come out smooth and in conjunction with your brain the way normal people's words do; they come out in chunks as if from a crushed-ice dispenser; you stumble on them as they gather behind your lower lip. So you just keep quiet. — Ned Vizzini

Sure enough, at the bottom of the box lay a note, crisply folded and sealed with blue wax. The insignia, though, was not Lord John's customary smiling half-moon-and-stars, but an unfamiliar crest, showing a fish with a ring in its mouth. Jamie glanced at this, frowning, then broke the seal and opened the note. — Diana Gabaldon

He smiles.
It's a blinding, white-toothed smile.
A push-me-over-the-edge-of-the-love-cliff smile.
And before I can say a word in protest, he's got my hand and is dragging me through the carnival.
Note to self: Do not stare directly at his smile. It holds special powers.
Also: Do not kiss him. His mouth is definitely the source of his power. — Jillian Dodd

Daemon always looks hot!!!
Stretching into the aisle, I went to drop the note back on Carissa's desk. Before it could leave my fingertips, it was snatched from my hand. Son of a donkey butt! My mouth dropped open and my cheeks burned. Twisting around in my seat, I glared at Daemon.
He held the note close to his chest and grinned. "Passing notes is bad," he murmured. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

Terror builds inside him. The reality that tonight will be his last leaves a sour taste in his mouth. The Tainted will eat him, or on a more terrifying note - if that's even possible - maybe turn him into one of them. He'd rather die. But first, he'll take as many of those bastards out as he can. He throws his pack into the throng and jerks the blade from his belt. With a thudding heart, he slices through them. Blood arcs over him, onto him. — Laura Kreitzer

The century's greatest detective, advertised as solving every case imaginable. How great his burden must be, how much pain must he go through every single moment: past, present, and future ... A burden so great it would leave you hunched over. A bitter taste in your mouth that would leave you longing for sweets.
-M — NisiOisiN