My Eyes Can Talk Quotes & Sayings

The thought occurred to me that I was in danger of becoming a slave to a tiger as well. Hah! I'd probably like it too. I rolled my eyes at the thought. I disgust myself. I'm so darn weak! I hated the idea that all he'd have to do was crook his finger at me, beckon me to come to him, and I probably would. The fiercely independent side of me flared up. That's it! No more! I'm going to talk it all out with him when we get back and hope that we can still be friends.
This was pretty much my line of thought for the entire trip home. I'd daydream and then stop, lecture myself, and repeat my stubborn mantra. I tried to read, but I kept rereading the same paragraph over and over. Eventually, I gave up and napped a little. — Colleen Houck

I said, I know why you're afraid to fight with me."
"And why is that?" If he flexed again, I'd have to implement emergency measures. Maybe I could kick some sand at him or something. Hard to look hot brushing sand out of your eyes.
"You want me."
Oh boy.
"You can't resist my subtle charm, so you're afraid you're going to make a spectacle out of yourself."
"You know what? Don't talk to me. — Ilona Andrews

You'll come to my grave? To tell me your problems?"
My problems?
"Yes.'
And you'll give me answers?
"I'll give you what I can. Don't I always?"
I picture his grave, on the hill, overlooking the pond, some little nine foot piece of earth where they will place him, cover him with dirt, put a stone on top. Maybe in a few weeks? Maybe in a few days? I see myself sitting there alone, arms across my knees, staring into space.
It won't be the same, I say, not being able to hear you talk.
"Ah, talk ... "
He closes his eyes and smiles.
"Tell you what. After I'm dead, you talk. And I'll listen. — Mitch Albom

Listen! I know it's not right to talk. Better to set an example, better to just start - I have already started - and - and can one really be unhappy? Oh, what do my grief and my misfortune matter if I have the strength to be happy? You know, I don't understand how one can walk by a tree and not be happy at the sight of it! Or to speak with a man and not be happy in loving him? Oh, it's just that I can't express it - and yet there are so many things at every stop so beautiful that even the most desolate of men find them beautiful. Look at a child, look at Go's sunrise, look at the grass, how it grows, look into eyes that look at you and love you - — Fyodor Dostoyevsky

I order six shots.
I drink the first shot with lemon and salt and talk about Isha for 120 seconds.
I drink the second shot with lemon and salt and talk about Isha and our love for 90 seconds.
I drink the third shot with lemon and talk about future plans with wedding for 60 seconds.
I drink the fourth and blabber for 30 seconds.
I drink the fifth, I speak in a language no one can understand for ten seconds or less. I fall down.
When I open my eyes, I see Diwa helping me sit in the car and put on the seat belt. I am knocked out. — Saravana Kumar Murugan

I can't promise you anything beyond this, Shannon. Hell, maybe nothing will happen. My body isn't like it used to be. But I can make sure you're taken care of." She gave him the sweetest, sexiest smile and looped her arms up around his neck. "John, I'm sure you'll take care of me. I have no doubt. And don't worry about promises. I'm here, number one, because I am your friend. I want the best for you. If I can help you over this hurdle, so to speak, I will." His throat tightened with emotion, and his eyes burned. He buried his face in her hair to keep her from seeing. He had to clear his throat several times before he could talk though. "Thank you, Shannon. We're friends with benefits, now, huh?" She giggled beneath him, and nipped his neck. "I guess so." He — J.M. Madden

...and he suddenly opened his eyes and stared straight ahead into an empty space till slowly we returned into view. I can make small talk, he said slowly, I can do that but out of the corner of my eye I can see the dark approaching. — Dermot Healy

I hear talk of that slippery slope, and my heart catches for a beat. But there is the musky truth I'm standing in that I can't deny, and it tastes of so much holy. That old way, the narrow line, I see now that was a slippery, saccharine surface where my soul could gain no purchase. For the first time, my feet feel sure beneath me, and that sense is twining its way up from my ankles, racing toward my knees, my thighs, my secret places, my heart. It's in my blood now, and I can't deny it. I can't deny it.

I open my eyes, because I could see even through my clutched-closed lids that the darkness is light, that the blindness has given way to searing vision.

I can't deny it. — Beth Morey

I also wanted to ask you if we can talk to the Erudite you're keeping safe here," I say. "I know they're hidden, but I need access to them."
"And what do you intend to do?" she says.
"Shoot them," I say, rolling my eyes.
"That isn't funny. — Veronica Roth

What do you want to talk about until the flight is called?"
"Cold wind. Sleet. The ugly doorman at Club 39. Porridge."
I burst out laughing. "You mean anything that won't give you an erection?"
He smiled at me, his eyes roaming my face lovingly. "Maybe we should just stop talking altogether. And put a bag over your head. And cover your legs."
"Just don't look at me."
"I can still smell you."
"I could move."
"Dare move away from me and I'll put you over my knee, Wife."
"That doesn't sound so bad. — Samantha Young

He meets me where I am, and because of the downward tilt of the driveway, we are toe to toe, nose to nose. "Willowdean Opal Dickson, you are beautiful. Fuck anyone who's ever made you feel anything less." His chest heaves. "When I close my eyes, I see you. I can talk to you. In a way I never have with anyone else. — Julie Murphy

I think she's afraid to even hug me now. It's my fault, but I miss it, Andrew. I miss it so much it aches sometimes, you know?'
I do know. I do know, I want to tell him, but I let him talk. And he does, with a gut-wrenching honesty that tears at my heart.
'I want to be held. Is that so wrong? I want to be held, and stroked. I want to know that someone loves me. I want to feel it on my skin.' He looks at the ceiling and exhales, then meets my eyes again. 'But nobody touches me anymore. Not even when I have a fever. Mom just hands me a thermometer now.' He drops his eyes and his ears redden. 'Even when you kiss me, you don't touch me. It's like I'm a leper or something. I can hardly keep my hands off of you, but it's not the same for you, is it? — J.H. Trumble

Will there ever come a day when you put yourself first?"
"No, that day will never come."
"You're crazy, my old man."
"It will never come because I've finally realized that I want you by my side, now and forever. That I can no longer be just myself, standing alone. I need more."
Angelica's eyes filled with tears. She looked like she was fighting to hold them back.
"You really are crazy."

-Conversation between Mathias Munster and Angelica Zanon — Riccardo Bruni

I desecrated my own house?" Chance snorted in disbelief. "Then swam out to Fort Sumter and played paint-by-numbers on the walls, all to make Benjamin Blue like me? Don't flatter yourself, kid."
Ben's eyes cut like diamonds. "You act like such a big shot. But you don't fool me. Do you have any friends, Chance? Is there a single person who cares where you are right now?"
"Ben!" I blurted, horrified. "That's not - "
"You're one to talk." Chance stepped closer to Ben and matched him glare for glare. "I've never betrayed my friends. Not like you, eh, Benjamin?"
Ben's whole body went still. "What did you say?"
"Guys, guys!" Hi half rose, palms up. "There's no need for anyone to get upset. I've got Go-Gurt in the mini-fridge. I know when I get hungry, my manners can - "
"Shut up, Hi." Ben and Chance, in unison. — Kathy Reichs

He can be..." Heat started to flow across my cheeks. "He can be very...protective."
Jayden's eyes widened as his mouth opened slightly. The flush in my cheeks deepened as I pressed my lips together.
"Huh. That's the first time I've heard you talk." He pushed off the locker, falling in step beside me. Shorter than his brother and Rider, he was still a couple of inches taller than me, so my neck appreciated not having to look up to see him. "Cool. I'm quiet, too."
I arched a brow.
He laughed. "Okay. I'm not quiet. I'm sure if you Wikipedia'd my ass, I would show up as the opposite of quiet. But that's okay. You and I would get along like lime and tequila. You can make up for my nonstop talkin' and I can make up for your lack of talkin'." He nudged my arm with his. "We're a perfect team! — Jennifer L. Armentrout

Iz," Alec said tiredly. "It's not like it's one big bad thing. It's a lot of little invisible things. When Magnus and I were traveling, and I'd call from the road, Dad never asked how he was. When I get up to talk in Clave meetings, no one listens, and I don't know if that's because I'm young or if it's because of something else. I saw Mom talking to a friend about her grandchildren and the second I walked into the room they shut up. Irina Cartwright told me it was a pity no one would ever inherit my blue eyes now." He shrugged and looked toward Magnus, who took a hand off the wheel for a moment to place it on Alec's. "It's not like a stab wound you can protect me from. It's a million little paper cuts every day. — Cassandra Clare

I need to think about this."

"I know."

Then I closed my eyes and realized that I had to say no. It didn't matter how I felt about the trip or the chance to get back into space. The launch date he was talking about meant I'd have to go into training now. "I can't." I opened my eyes and stared at the wall where the publicity still of me and Nathaniel hung. "I have to turn it down."

"Talk to Nathaniel."

I grimaced. He would tell me to take it. "I can't. — Mary Robinette Kowal

What's wrong?"
"It's nothing. It's just-" I met his searching gaze, "I'm not sure what I'm allowed to tell you."
His eyes narrowed at me, "What do you mean?"
"I'm not supposed to talk about what I do with anyone."
He blinked at me, "What?"
"I signed the non-disclosure agreement last week." I gave him an apologetic grimace.
He set his sandwich down and looked at me with something resembling disbelief. He opened his mouth to speak but then closed it and half laughed, "Janie, trust me. You can talk to me. It's my company. — Penny Reid

Dragos said in her head, Pia,
what are you doing?
She closed her eyes. It had been too much to hope that the sentinels would keep quiet about their outing. What she wouldn't give for a little privacy right now.
Don't talk to me, she said to Dragos.
You left the Tower. His mental voice was so quiet and controlled it sent a chill down her spine.
You promised you wouldn't.
She snarled, I said don't talk to me, you son of a bitch.
A heartbeat, and then, his calm quite
stripped away, he demanded, What's
happened?
Shut up. Get out of my head.
Pia, goddammit. When she didn't answer
he roared, WHAT THE FUCK DID I DO
NOW?
His telepathic shout reverberated in her skull. She clapped a hand to her forehead.
Don't yell at me like that. I can't think! Give me a minute. — Thea Harrison

Because it was the right thing?"
"Oh shit, I hope not."
"Afraid of becoming noble?" he asked, his eyes twinkling.
"That too. But basically, that's the worst reason I can think of for killing. 'That its the right thing to do'. You kill out of outrage or fury or to keep from dying or something like it, that's fine. Hell, kill them rather than bother with them - or be bothered by them. But if you're killing them because 'its the right thing to do', its only the right thing because you've done so many wrong things up until then to make that spot. It's not the right thing to do. It's the best of the last of your choices."
"That's the longest I've ever heard you talk at one time."
"That's because you never ask me about my hair. — John Steakley

Melanie still grieves for Jared," she stated.
I felt my head nod without willing the action.
"You grieve for him."
I closed my eyes.
"The dreams continue?"
"Every night," I mumbled.
"Tell me about then." Her voice was soft, persuasive.
"I don't like to talk about them."
"I know. Try. It might help."
"How? How will it help to tell you that I see his face every time I close my eyes? That I wake up and cry when he's not there? That the memories are so strong I can't separate hers from mine anymore? — Stephenie Meyer

I am a total zombie just after I wake up. It takes me half an hour even to get my eyes open. Ask anyone who knows me. I can't see; I can't talk properly; I can't do anything without help. The only think I can do properly is think. And I know how to exploit my condition. I've had years of practice. — Diana Wynne Jones

What matters is only what's here. I touch my skin right under my breasts, which is where the little one's curled, and where he kicks, 'cause he has to. Like, he don't feel so cosy no more. Here, can you feel it? I reckon he wants me to talk to him. He can hear me inside, for sure. He can hear every note of this silvery music.
It ripples all around him, wave after wave. I can tell that it's starting to sooth him. It's so full of joy, of delight, even if to him, it's coming across somewhat muffled. Like a dream in a dream, it's floating inside, into his soft, tender ear.
I close my eyes and hold myself, wrapping my arms real soft - around me around him - and I rock ever so gently, back and forth, back and forth, with every note of this silvery marvel. You can barely hear me - but here I am, singing along. I'm whispering words into myself, into him. — Uvi Poznansky

I am natures greatest miracle. Since the beginning of time never has there been another with my heart, my eyes, my ears, my hands, my hair, my mouth. None that came before, none that live today, and none that come tomorrow can walk and talk and move and think exactly like me. I am a unique creature. — Og Mandino

Deborah looked at her. Then she nodded. She jerked her head toward me. "Usually, I talk to him," she said, and Jackie turned her violet eyes on me. I will not say that my knees went weak and wobbly, but I definitely felt like I should bow, straighten my tuxedo, and hand her an orchid. "Why him?" she said. "Dexter is forensics," Deborah said, "and sometimes he gets lucky, finds something that can help me. Also" - she shrugged - "he's my brother." "Your brother!" she exclaimed with what looked like real delight. "That's perfect! So you're the tough cop and he's the nerd! Just like the show!" "The preferred term is geek," I said. "Although wonk will do in a pinch. But never nerd. — Jeff Lindsay

- I don't know how I'll be as a shaman. I'll find out when I try it. You both know me. You've known me since before we even had names. I can't travel in my dreams, or above the sky. There aren't any spirits that talk to me or through me. I can't sing the songs. I can't help people who are sick. But I'll tell you this, and he raised his right forefinger before them and seized them with his eyes: - I can paint that fucking cave. — Kim Stanley Robinson

I can go an entire day without any socialisation, without a conversation with anyone. I wonder sometimes if I'm invisible. I feel like the old men and women who used to bother me by engaging in unnecessary chit-chat with the cashiers while I was stuck behind them, in a hurry, wanting to get on to the next place. When you don't have a next place to go to, time slows down enormously. I feel myself noticing other people more, catching more eyes, or seeking out eye contact. I'm now ripe and ready for a conversation about anything with anyone; it would make my day if somebody would meet my eye, or if there was someone to talk to. But everyone is too busy, and that makes me feel invisible; and invisibility, contrary to what I believed before, lacks any sense of lightness and liberty. Instead it makes me feel heavy. And so I drag myself around, trying to convince myself that I don't feel heavy, invisible, bored and worthless, and that I am free. I do not convince myself well. — Cecelia Ahern

I know you want to think Dad's fine with me being gay, but he's not."
"But if you don't tell me when people say things like that to you, or do things that hurt you, then how can I help you?" Simon could feel Isabelle's agitation vibrating through her body. "How can I-"
"Iz," Alec said tiredly. "It's not like it's one big bad things. It's a lot of little invisible things. When Magnus and I were traveling, and I'd call from the road, Dad never asked how he was. When I get up to talk in Clave meetings, no one listens, and I don't know if it's because I'm young or if it's something else. I saw Mom talking to a friend about her grandchildren and the second I walked into the room they shut up. Irina Cartwright told me it was a pity no one would ever inherit my blue eyes now ... It's not like a stab wound you can protect me from. It's a million little paper cuts every day."
( City of Lost Souls- Cassandra Clare) — Cassandra Clare

Everything changes, but my love for you never will. I've fought myself on this too long and I can't pretend anymore. I can't feign that I don't want to talk to you, to reach out and brush the hair out of your eyes, or wipe a tear off your cheek. I want to hold you, to tell you how much I love you, to kiss you without repercussions." His voice grew softer, electricity sparking in the air. "I've loved you since I met you, Evangeline, and I will love you for all of eternity. — Angela Corbett

Breathe," he ordered gently. "Once more time. Now, reassure me that's not panic." "Not really. No." "Talk to me, Eva." "I just ... " I blurted it out in a rush. "I want you to ask when I can say yes."
Tension gripped his body. He leaned back, his eyes wounded beneath his frown. "You couldn't say yes no?"
I shook my head.
His mouth thinned into a determined line. "Lay out what you need from me to make that happen. — Sylvia Day

You own a dress that won't make my dick get hard?"
Her eyes got squinty, but her mouth stayed closed.
"Can I take that as a no?" he pushed.
"FYI, women don't like it when men talk like that, Benny Bianchi."
"Bullshit, Francesca Concetti. They fuckin' love that shit. — Kristen Ashley

I get so nervous on stage I can't help but talk. I try. I try telling my brain: stop sending words to the mouth. But I get nervous and turn into my grandma. Behind the eyes it's pure fear. I find it difficult to believe I'm going to be able to deliver. — Adele

Thank you."

"How'd those words taste in your mouth?"

"Awful."

He smiled. We stood there in silence. He didn't offer to let me in, and I knew it was because he wanted me to ask. He liked to make things hard on me.

"Can I come in?"

"Why?"

"Because I want to talk."

"Why?"

"Because you're here, and I want to know why."

He rolled his eyes and started to shut the door. I put my hand on the edge. "Because you need me, and I've never needed anyone more than I need you."

He pulled me inside and against him before I even finished the sentence. — Kasie West

And when I am in a new place, because I see everything, it is like when a computer is doing too many things at the same time and the central processor unit is blocked up and there isn't any space left to think about other things. And when I am in a new place and there are lots of people there it is even harder because people are not like cows and flowers and grass and they can talk to you and do things that you don't expect, so you have to notice everything that is in the place, and also you have to notice things that might happen as well. And sometimes when I am in a new place and there are lots of people there it is like a computer crashing and I have to close my eyes and put my hands over my ears and groan, which is like pressing CTRL + ALT + DEL and shutting down programs and turning the computer off and rebooting so that I can remember what I am doing and where I am meant to be going. — Mark Haddon

My wife Ciera and I can stand face-to-face in our kitchen and stare into each other's eyes and talk for three hours without noticing that any time has passed. She is the kind of gal I spent a lifetime daydreaming about. She is an actor and a creative companion. — Jim Parrack

I can't talk you out of this?" he whispered, his eyes searching mine.
"No."
He swallowed and brushed back a hair from my forehead. His hand lingered on my face, and I let it. His eyes were strangely sad, and I wanted to ask him why, but I didn't dare speak.
"I want you to remember this," he said, his voice low and husky.
"What?" I asked.
"You want me to kiss you."
"I don't," I lied.
"You do. And I want you to remember that."
"Why?"
"Because." Without further explanation, he turned away from me. "If you want to do this, hurry and put some clothes on. You don't want to see the King in your pajamas. — Amanda Hocking

A man walks fast along the forecourt of the station towards a gate, moving towards a train that's about to leave. I get shivery all over as I watch the back of his head, which is about Yuan's height, with hair and a neckline just like his. My eyes tell me what my mind knows cannot be true. I follow him along seeking the one thing that would confirm him as someone else. The man turns his head slightly to talk to a train official. I can see his nose in profile. My eyes sting. — Dayo Forster

I never thought of it like that. I always thought of you as a part of me, like my own eyes or my own hands. You don't go around thinking 'I love my eyes, I love my hands', do you? But think what it would be like to live without your eyes or your hands. To be mad, or to be blind. I can't talk about it. It's how I feel. — Elizabeth Marie Pope

Did Morris put anybody on Coltraine, specifically?"
"Clipper."
"Die-For-Ty? Talk about the sex. How come so many death doctors are wholly iced?"
"A mystery I've pondered throughout my career."
"No, seriously. Clipper's like ummm. He's gay and has a partner, but a yummy treat for the eyes. His partner's an artist. He paints people, literally I mean. Body painting. They've been together about six years."
"How do you know all this stuff?"
"Unlike you, I enjoy hearing about people's personal lives, especially when it involves sex."
"At least since Clipper's not into women, you won't be troubled by sexual fantasies."
Peabody pursed her lips in thought. "I can work with it. Two naked guys, body paints, me. Oh yeah, endless possibilities. — J.D. Robb

One of the things I tried to do is to kind of talk my actors through the scene, but at the same time let them know how I plan to shoot the film and just give them an insight into the way I'm thinking, so that when they're acting out their scene, they can kind of see it in their minds' eyes. — James Wan

I'm confused, Beatrice," she says. "What exactly do you want us to do?"
"I didn't come here to ask you for help," I say. "I thought you should know that a lot of people are going to die, very soon. And I know you don't want to stay here doing nothing while that happens, even if some of your faction does."
She looks down, her crooked mouth betraying just how right I am.
"I also wanted to ask you if we can talk to the Erudite you're keeping safe here," I say. "I know they're hidden, but I need access to them."
"And what do you intend to do?" she says.
"Shoot them," I say, rolling my eyes.
"That isn't funny."
I sigh. "Sorry. I need information. That's all. — Veronica Roth

Hastings is going to go to a half-wit," the duke moaned. "All those years of praying for an heir, and now it's all for ruin. I should have let the title go to my cousin." He turned back to his son, who was sniffling and wiping his eyes, trying to appear strong for his father. "I can't even look at him," he gasped. "I can't even bear to look at him." And with that, the duke stalked out of the room.
Nurse Hopkins hugged the boy close. "You're not an idiot," she whispered fiercely. "You're the smartest little boy I know. And if anyone can learn to talk properly, I know it's you."
Simon turned into her warm embrace and sobbed.
"We'll show him," Nurse vowed. "He'll eat his words if it's the last thing I do. — Julia Quinn

No matter how poor my eyes are I can still talk. — Marjory Stoneman Douglas

You are a ghost, like you were a ghost before because you were never here, but everywhere at once, i wish i could talk like my eyes can see, word you with what i smell, knock your socks off with aromas of a tiny metropolis tourists only catch glimpses of at the Wharf. A thousand LSD trips and middle-aged folks remembering Timothy Leary playing like a Pied Piper leading them all off to jump off the pier. — Ana Castillo

What I find about wedding plans is that everyone wants to talk about when I don't. As soon as I do feel like talking about my wedding plans, their eyes glaze over and I can see them wishing they were dead — Suzanne Finnamore

She eyes me. 'What is this all about?'
It's my turn to shrug, upsetting the rocks on my back. 'I don't know. Girl talk. I mean, you can have any guy you want, so why don't you just pick one?'
Priscilla doesn't answer at first. I'm glad I chose this moment: she's actually pinned down and cannot run away. Finally, she says, 'If I can have any guy I want, I'd like to have every guy I want.'
'What do you mean?
She gives me an exasperated look. 'I'm only seventeen, Skye. I'm not looking to settle down just yet.' She probably misunderstands my shocked expression, because she adds, 'I mean, I'm not saying you're wrong or anything, but it's just not me, you know? — Fabio Bueno

When I talk about my husband, I feel as if people roll their eyes. It's like when you're 16 and order a martini, and the waiter says, 'Do you think I'm stupid?'. They can't grasp that I'm old enough to be married. — Megan Fox

Cassidy is the best girlfriend ever. I've dated her for a full two months longer than anyone else. She's smart and witty and original and can chug a beer faster than most guys I know. On top of that, she is absolutely beautiful. I mean spanktacular. Talk about pure colors. She's high-definition. Scandinavian blond hair, eyes as blue as fiords, skin like vanilla ice cream or flower petals or sugar frosting - or really not like anything else but just her skin. It makes my hair ache. Of course, she does believe in astrology, but I don't even care about that. It's a girl thing. I think of it like she has constellations and fortunes whirling around inside her. — Tim Tharp

He opened his eyes again, raking his gaze up and down my body before coming to rest on my crotch. "Quite simply," he said, "I'd like to lick your cunt. I'd like to hear you scream my name."

The world seemed to sway. "Don't... don't you have groupies for that sort of thing?" I asked breathlessly.

"I'd rather have you."

I swallowed. "I don't know what to say."

"You can start by saying yes, please, Kent. Eat my pussy."

My skin tingled with his words. I wondered why he wasn't the one singing, front and center. That voice could carry me away, anywhere he wanted me to go...

Oh, this was a problem. This was a huge problem, and I wasn't about to make it any better. My mouth was dry, but the words came out clear enough:

"Yes, please, Kent. Eat my pussy."

"I thought you'd never ask," he said. — Ava Lore

No bitter complaints about society whatever from this grand and ideal man who really loves me moreover as if I deserve it, but I'm bursting to explain everything to him, not even Big Sur but the past several years, but there's no chance with everybody yakking
And in fact I can see in Cody's eyes that he can see in my own eyes the regret we both feel that recently we haven't had chances to talk whatever, like we used to do driving across America and back in the old road days, too many people now want to talk to us and tell us their stories, we've been hemmed in and surrounded and outnumbered
The circle's closed in on the old heroes of the night
— Jack Kerouac

My entire body shaking, I carefully unstrapped the seat belt and turned around as far as I could to look at the backseat.
Or rather, the dog that sat on it. He was panting, his eyes round, but there was nothing at all odd about him.
Other than the fact that I'd just heard him speak.
"You can't talk," I told him.
"I think I can," he answered. — Katie MacAlister

Well, you've got the growling part down pat already. Probaly all those years of practice."
He began to rise, his legs wobbly.
"All right, I'm coming back. I just didn't want to be in your way."
A grunt. Your not. Or that's what I hoped he meant.
"You can understand me, can't you?" I said as I returned to sit on his discarded sweatshirt. "You know what I'm saying."
He tried to nod, then snarled at the awkwardness of it.
"Not easy when you can't talk, is it?" I grinned. "Well, not easy for you. I could get used to it."
He grumbled, but I coulld see the relief in his eyes, like he was glad to see me smile.
"So I was right, wasn't I? It's still you even if wolf form."
He grunted.
"No sudden urges to go kill something?"
He rolled his eyes.
"Hey, you're the one who was worried." I paused. "And I don't smell like dinner, right?"
I got a real good look for that one.
"Just covering my bases. — Kelley Armstrong

As long as I'm between home and the clinic I do all right. But out in the real world, I feel like prey. I slink around and can feel people looking at me. I feel their eyes boring into me. I feel what they're thinking: Watch her, she could go off anytime. But within the walls of my farmhouse, I climb out of the protective shell, my arms slowly rise like a phoenix, and I dance, wail, fly around the room and then collapse, crying, in front of my mirrors. I start to see in the mirror what it is I really look like, instead of what I was trained from the womb to see. I do not write about it. I do not talk about it. I do not know what I am doing. But just like a baby bird, I am blinking once-sealed eyes and unfolding damp wings. I cannot articulate the past. A part of me knows it's there, lurking, just behind what I can acknowledge, but it is not within sight. And I am keeping it that way. — Julie Gregory

Tell me, Marcus," says Johanna. "Why have you come to visit?"
"I think Beatrice should handle that," he says. "I am merely the transportation."
She shifts her focus to me without question, but I can tell by the wary look in her eyes that she would rather talk to Marcus. She would deny it if I asked her, but I am almost certain Johanna Reyes hates me.
"Um ... " I say. Not my most brilliant opening. I wipe my palms on my skirt. "Things have gotten bad. — Veronica Roth

When I talk to a man, I can always tell what he's thinking by where he is looking. If he is looking at my eyes, he is looking for intelligence. If he is looking at my mouth, he is looking for wisdom. But if he is looking anywhere else except my chest he's looking for another man. — Dolly Parton

No, I don't believe it," Joseph said. "From listening to my father and grandfather talk about El Shaddai, I think he's different from the gods of Egypt. I think that none of us could ever be good enough for God. I think of Him as being so good that a human can't even enter His presence. A man would die if he did. I think God's merciful, Rashidi. I think he forgives us because he loves us, just as we forgive our children because we love them.
"Rashidi's eyes brightened. "A God that loves people! Now there's a new thought! — Gilbert Morris

Would you believe I was in the neighborhood?"
"No."
"Well, how about that I needed to see you."
"Why? Did one of my neighbors call and say my cat's been stalking their bunny?"
One corner of his mouth went up. "You know, that sounds like a euphemism. A kind of salacious one"
"Ooh, big words for Mr. Average Joe street cop," she said, knowing she sounded bitchy but unable to help it.
"Can you take out the angry eyes, Mrs. Potato Head, and just let me talk to you? — Leslie Parrish

Thia pulled Darice away from Hauk. "Son, we need to talk about your inability to sense near-death experiences." "What are you talking about?" Thia glanced back to Hauk, who still hadn't moved. He hadn't even blinked. "Can you not see how pissed off he is?" "So?" Rolling her eyes, Thia sighed. "You're an idiot, Darice. I seriously hope you have no intention of entering any kind of military service." He lifted his chin defiantly. "Of course, I am. I'm Andarion. I'm going to be a fighter pilot like my parents." "No, punkin'." She patted him on the cheek. "With those well-honed survival instincts, you're going to be a bright stain on someone's blast shield." Darice — Sherrilyn Kenyon

I drag my eyes away from his sexy hands and my gaze collides with his. His penetrating blue gaze holds mine. He knows. He knows what I am thinking.
He knows that I would rather have him fucking me senseless than sitting in the midst of everyone trying to make small talk, pretending that his mere presence hasn't almost driven me to my wits' end. Feeling overwhelmingly aroused, heat creeps up my neck and into my cheeks. My pulse is racing. My heart is pounding so hard.
Awareness crackles between us. His eyes hold mine with a frightening intensity like he can devour me with one touch. — E.R. Wade

Mark this one thing my boy: never, never, never can a man make himself ridiculous in the eyes of a woman by anything he may do on her account. Not even by the most childish performances. Do anything you like, stand on your head, talk the most utter twaddle, swank like a peacock, sing under her window - anything at all but one thing: don't be matter of fact, don't be sensible. — Erich Maria Remarque

You have two choices," Vance said.
I stopped in the doorway to the hall and put my hands on my hips.
"And those would be?" I asked.
"We can talk or we can f**k."
My eyes rounded. Then they narrowed. I didn't answer.
"Though," he went on, "I should tell you even if you pick talking, after we're done, we're still gonna f**k."
I frowned at him and leaned in. "You are too much," I snapped.
He ignored my threatening posture. "You don't chose, I will, and I'll pick f**king. We can talk after. — Kristen Ashley

Do you ever think of moving back?"
"To Coldwater? Heck, no. England suits me fine. These Brits love my accent. The first time Gavin asked me out it was just to hear me talk. Lucky for him, it's one of the things I do best." All teasing left her eyes. "Too many memories back home. Can't drive down the street without thinking I see Scott in the crowd. — Becca Fitzpatrick

I sleep through the next day. Each time I go to the bathroom, I try not to look in the mirror. Once, I catch my reflection: it looks like I've been punched in both eyes.
I can't talk about the day that follows that. — Nina LaCour