Point Fingers Quotes & Sayings

Two gallons is a great deal of wine, even for two paisanos. Spiritually the jugs maybe graduated thus: Just below the shoulder of the first bottle, serious and concentrated conversation. Two inches farther down, sweetly sad memory. Three inches more, thoughts of old and satisfactory loves. An inch, thoughts of bitter loves. Bottom of the first jug, general and undirected sadness. Shoulder of the second jug, black, unholy despondency. Two fingers down, a song of death or longing. A thumb, every other song each one knows. The graduations stop here, for the trail splits and there is no certainty. From this point anything can happen. — John Steinbeck

Life has no victims. There are no victims in this life.
No one has the right to point fingers at his/her past and blame it for what he/she is today. We do not have the right to point our finger at someone else and blame that person for how we treat others, today.
Don't hide in the corner, pointing fingers at your past. Don't sit under the table, talking about someone who has hurt you. Instead, stand up and face your past! Face your fears! Face your pain! And stomach it all! You may have to do so kicking and screaming and throwing fits and crying- but by all means- face it!
This life makes no room for cowards. — C. JoyBell C.

We took a cab to the hotel. We looked at each other on the way but neither of us spoke. I checked us in, and when we got to the room, we left the lights off. It seemed natural that we should walk over to the enormous windows, where we watched the urban mass of Shinjuku twinkling in the violet light around us. I looked out at the city from my lofty perch and thought of all the events that had led to this precise instant, this moment I had imagined and ridiculously longed for so many times and that I was now trying to savor even as I felt it slipping irrevocably away. At some point I felt her looking at me. I turned and reached out, tracing the outline of her face and neck with the back of my fingers, trying to burn all the details into my mind, wanting to have them with me later when she would be gone. — Barry Eisler

My point is: Maybe you can afford to wait. Maybe for you there's a tomorrow. Maybe for you there's one thousand rows or three thousand, or ten,so much time you can bathe in it, roll around it, let it slide like coins through your fingers. So much time you can waste it. BUT FOR SOME OF US THERE'S ONLY TODAY, AND THE TRUTH IS, YOU NEVER REALLY KNOW.' -Before I fall by Lauren Oliver. — Lauren Oliver

Kate, please. You have to focus. I've pulled up a stable point, love. Just slide your fingers over it and go. I'll be right behind you. I promise."
That promise is a lie in one sense, but hopefully, she'll never know it. Six will be there. — Rysa Walker

When people point fingers at someone else, they should remember that three fingers are pointing back at them. — John Bytheway

Don't brush anything under the rug. Don't point fingers or do the blame game. A team is a family, and we're in this together. — Erik Spoelstra

Come here into the warmth," he said easily. He reached for her, taking her hand and pulling her toward him. "I've been waiting for you." He stroked her hair, shifting a bit to let the light fall on her. "For a very long time."
She, too, reached for him, following a line in the air along the length of the forming scar that marred his chest. A corona flared around him until she moved past the point where the sunlight hit her eyes. She stared at his chest, at the gashed and ill-healed flesh, and he, seeing her attention, took her hand and brought her fingers to his mouth. She felt the warmth of his breath, the pressure of his lips, soft and warm. "I wish you had never been wounded," she said. "Even though it brought you home to me. — Carolyn Jewel

Herewith I offer you the Omnipotent Finger of God in the anatomy of a louse: wherein you will find miracles heaped on miracles and will see the wisdom of God clearly manifested in a minute point. — Jan Swammerdam

Hana?" Lena says softly. "Are you okay?"
That single stupid question breaks me. All the metal fingers relax me at once, and the tears they've been holding back come surging up at once. Suddenly I am sobbing and telling her everything: about the raid, and the dogs, and the sounds of skulls cracking underneath regulator's nightsticks. Thinking about it again makes me feel like I might puke. At a certain point, Lena puts her arms around me and starts murmuring things into my hair. I don't even know what she's saying, and I don't care. JUst having her here - solid, real, on my side - makes me feel better than I have in weeks. Slowly I manage to stop crying, swallowing back the hiccups and sobs that are still running through me. I try to tell her that I've missed her, and that I've been stupid and wrong, but my voice is muffled and thick — Lauren Oliver

The site of his thinking and writing was a small office wedged in one corner of his shaggy house, on whose door he'd installed a lock to keep his sons out. They gathered wistfully outside it, his boys, with their chipped, heartbreaking faces. They were not permitted to so much as knock upon the door to the room in which he thought and wrote about art, but Ted hadn't found a way to keep them from prowling outside it, ghostly feral creatures drinking from a pond in moonlight, their bare feet digging at the carpet, their fingers sweating on the walls, leaving spoors of grease that Ted would point out each week to Elsa, the cleaning woman. He would sit in his office, listening to the movements of his boys, imagining that he felt their hot, curious breath. I will not let them in, he would tell himself. I will sit and think about art. But he found, to his despair, that often he couldn't think about art. He thought about nothing at all. — Jennifer Egan

Never forget that when you point the finger at someone, three of your own fingers are pointing back at you... — Peter Van Der Linden

When you look at it objectively, that's what most colonists do - they land then find a way of wiping out their competition. In America is was blankets covered with smallpox and in Australia it was permits to hunt aborigines. If you wipe a whole people from the face of the earth, then there's no one to point fingers at you. It's just their spirits that haunt you and spirits can't do shit. — Alex Latimer

Wow," he muttered, his voice choked with tears. "Here we are, the last night and all, and I can't think of anything to say."
I pressed my palm to his cheek, feeling the moisture beneath my fingers, and smiled at him. "How about 'goodbye'?"
"Nah." Puck shook his head. "I make a point of never saying goodbye, princess. Makes it sound like you're never coming back."
"Puck - "
He bent down and kissed me softly on the lips. Ash stiffened, arms tightening around me, but Puck slid out of reach before either of us could react. "Take care of her, ice-boy," he said, smiling as he backed up several paces. "I guess I won't be seeing you, either, will I? It was ... fun, while it lasted."
"I'm sorry we didn't get to kill each other," Ash said quietly.
Puck chuckled and bent to retrieve his fallen dagger. "My one and only regret. Too bad, that would have been an epic fight." Straightening, he gave us that old, stupid grin, raising a hand in farewell. "See you around, lovebirds. — Julie Kagawa

It shocks me how easily people believe the worst, how quick they are to point fingers and lay blame, and, sadly, how silent when at last they learn the truth — Caroline Pignat

The doctor holds up her hands. I'm not going to hurt you. I need to check your tummy. Here. She gives me a cold, round sucky thing and she lets me play with it. You put it on your tummy, and I won't touch you and I can hear your tummy. The doctor is good ... the doctor is Mommy.
My new mommy is pretty. She's like an angel. A doctor angel. She strokes my hair. I like it when she strokes my hair. She lets me eat ice cream and cake. She doesn't shout when she finds the bread and apples hidden in my shoes. Or under my bed. Or under my pillow. Darling, the food is in the kitchen. Just find me or Daddy when you're hungry. Point with your fingers. Can cou do that? ... — E.L. James

Seth let out a heavy sigh and ran his fingers through his hair. She had a point. Constant stops would put them at greater risk, especially when it came to Natti being seen. And obviously, it wasn't likely she'd stay in the car, even if he did ask. Maybe if he tied her up in the backseat? — Kelsey Ketch

You should love something while you have it, love it fully and without reservation, even if you know you'll lose it someday. We lose everything. If you're trying to avoid loss, there's no point in taking another breath, or letting your heart beat one more time. It all ends." His fingers curl around mine. "That's all life is. Breathing in, breathing out. The space between two breaths. — Leah Raeder

I don't even own a computer. I write by hand then I type it up on an old manual typewriter. But I cross out a lot - I'm not writing in stone tablets, it's just ink on paper. I don't feel comfortable without a pen or a pencil in my hand. I can't think with my fingers on the keyboard. Words are generated for me by gripping the pen, and pressing the point on the paper. — Paul Auster

His words were almost soundless. "I've gotten to a really dark place, Melly. The darkest place I've ever been."
"You don't have to be there anymore," she told him gently. "Don't you know what happens at the darkest point of the day?"
He stroked her soft lower lip with the ball of one thumb. "What?"
She rubbed her fingers soothingly along his muscled forearms. "A beautiful, brand-new day begins, and it's all fresh and full of promise." She smiled into his gaze. "That's why magic in the fairy tales happens at midnight, you know. When you reach that point, you have the power to change everything. — Thea Harrison

I think one of the greatest things about the Republican Party is the understanding, we don't point fingers and we have class. — Angie Harmon

The more it changes, the more it's the same thing. But overall, things have changed. I say changed and not "changed for the better" because I am no fool. Fate is a total drama queen. The second you say things are better than they were, she'll come stumbling toward you on her six-inch heels, nasty-ass wig crooked and on sideways. You'll wonder exactly how she got all that makeup slathered onto her face. One nicotine-caked fake fingernail will point at you, and she will make sure that things are anything but better from there on out. So no, thank you. Things are different but not better and, in fact, could get much much worse, so fuck off, Fate! Is she gone? Whew. Things had changed at school and not in a bad way(crosses fingers and hope that doesn't count as pissing Fate off). — John Goode

It's real easy to sit on your couch and point fingers and say, 'So-and-so did something wrong ... '. But until you are out there in these cars at these speeds and seeing all the near-misses and what is really going on, it is not worth forming an opinion. — Jimmie Johnson

When you point your finger at someone, anyone, it is often a moment of judgement. We point our fingers when we want to scold someone, point out what they have done wrong. But each time we point, we simultaneously point three fingers back at ourselves. — Christopher Pike

Most of us don't realize the difference we could make. We love to shrug off our own responsibilities, to point fingers at others. "Surely," we say, "the pollution, waste, and other ills are not our fault. They are the fault of the industry, business, science. They are the fault of the politicians," This leads to a destructive and potentially deadly apathy. — Jane Goodall

Say the whole point of love is to try to get your fingers through the holes in the lover's mask. To get some kind of hold on the mask, and who cares how you do it. — David Foster Wallace

'The Truth' is not meant to preach or point any fingers. It's meant to show that perhaps we should all avoid taking the moral high ground unless we have thought about things a bit more. — Michael Palin

Religions should be understood as only the fingers that point to the moon, not the moon itself. — Richard Rohr

You are your own worst enemy, young lady. And you are a coward. It is senseless to mistake fear for bravery." Her warm breath is yeasty on my face. "I feel sorry for you. But that's it. We are done trying to help you. It's your life, as your poor father said." AFTER THIS, WHEN I wake in the morning, I spread my fingers, working out the stiffness that creeps in overnight. I point my toes, feeling the crimp in my ankles, my calves, the dull sore ache behind my knees. The pain in my joints is like a needy pet that won't leave me alone. But I can't complain. I've forfeited that right. — Christina Baker Kline

There is a point when tears don't work to wash things away anymore. Grabbing for breath has now broken my fingers. — Buddy Wakefield

When you point your finger 'cause your plan fell through You got three more fingers pointing back at you! — Mark Knopfler

Im not the type of person to point fingers at anybody, and I dont want anybody saying anything to me. There are situations where balls are bounced to your feet you dont say anything. — Keyshawn Johnson

Rosethorn had gone to her room the moment Niko started to cough. Now she returned with her syrup and a firm look in her eye. "I thought you were having trouble last night. Drink this." She poured some into a cup and held it out to him.
Niko looked at it as if she offered him rotten fish. "I am fine. I am per-" He couldn't even finish the sentence for coughing.
"It's not bad," said Tris, crossing her fingers behind her back. "Really, tastes like-like mangoes."
Niko looked at her, then took the cup and downed its contents. The four watched with interest as his cheeks turned pale, then scarlet. "That's terrible (exclamation point)" he cried, his voice a thin squeak.
"Maybe I was thinking of some other syrup," Tris remarked with a straight face. — Tamora Pierce

them. His backhand sent the first flying a good six feet in the air and he landed with a crack on the asphalt almost fifteen feet away. It was so loud when he landed that it even caught my attention, and by this point sparkles of light were filling my eyes. The second guy couldn't stop fast enough. Wolfe's hand lanced out, wrapping around the man's throat, but I could tell his grip was less merciful because the guy's eyes were bugging out of his head and Wolfe's fingernails had dug into his skin. Blood dripped down Wolfe's fingers, mixing with the spots in my vision. I hammered the bigger man's hands and wrists, searching for leverage, but I couldn't — Robert J. Crane

A trigger point for a curse may be hard to find, but if it's there, then there's a chance to break it. There is no stopping sadness. Sadness slips through the fingers. Frank — Erika Swyler

A true Leader does not point fingers
A true Leader does not assign blame
A true Leader does not celebrate the mistakes of others
A true Leader points you in the right direction
A true Leader assigns praise however meager the task
A true Leader celebrates the accomplishments of his team
I true Leader Leads. — Mark W. Boyer

Yeah, well, I'm regretting every letting you catch me that night," she huffed, taking no notice of his machinations as she blew back her hair in that charming habit she had. It was an invitation he could not resist. His hands crept into her gorgeous hair, the luxuriant strands settling between his fingers.
"Hey, sweetheart, it was either me or the concrete. One of us had to do it."
"At this point I'm thinking the concrete would've been less painful ... and less complicated. — Jacquelyn Frank

When Rita asked Tabin to change places with her and operate on the next patient, he did his best to impress her, but the first incision with the point of his blade brought a grunt of disapproval.
'Try not to jab at the patient like you're killing a pig,' Rita said. 'Let your hand widen the wound gently.'
Tabin pictured the way fencers held their foils as they sized up opponents, swaying gently side to side, and attempted to send that image to receptors in the fine muscles of his fingers, so that they enlarged the opening one delicate cut at a time.
'Much better, Doctor Geoff,' Rita said. 'If you keep this up, you'll hardly blind anybody. — David Oliver Relin

The final release point for the fastball is the tips of your fingers. — Steve Carlton

But this man Brown - it was difficult to place him at once. He talked, spreading his fingers out with the volubility of a man who will in the end become a bore. And Eleanor wandered about, holding a cup, telling people about her shower-bath. He wished they would stick to he point. Talk interested him. Serious talk on abstract subjects. 'Was solitude good; was society bad?' That was interesting; but they hopped from thing to thing. When the large man said, 'Solitary confinement is the greatest torture we inflict,' the meagre old woman with the wispy hair at once piped up, laying her hand on her heart, 'It ought to be abolished!' She visited prisons, it seemed. — Virginia Woolf

The point is to solve problems, not point fingers. — Jane Harman

I believe in strong women. I believe in the woman who is able to stand up for herself. I believe in the woman who doesn't need to hide behind her husband's back. I believe that if you have problems, as a woman you deal with them, you don't play victim, you don't make yourself look pitiful, you don't point fingers. You stand and you deal. You face the world with a head held high and you carry the universe in your heart. — C. JoyBell C.

That could also be because at one point during the film, our hands found each other. And when I felt Michael's middle finger caress the inside of my palm, it sent a tickle up my spine, and the fingers of my right hand were soon exploring his left hand, and we each took turns tracing the contours of the other's hands. — Zack Love

The characteristics of a good musician can be summarized as follows: 1. A well-trained ear. 2. A well-trained intelligence. 3. A well-trained heart. 4. A well-trained hand. All four must develop together, in constant equilibrium. As soon as one lags behind or rushes ahead, there is something wrong. So far most of you have met only the requirement of the fourth point: the training of your fingers has left the rest far behind. You would have achieved the same results more quickly and easily, however, if your training in the other three had kept pace. — Zoltan Kodaly

He watched me rake my fingers through the tangles in my hair and smiled.
"Quit it. You're fucking beautiful."
"Just point me to the nearest eighties rock video," I said. — Jamie McGuire

We're remembering both the good and the bad in our history together in this world. This isn't an attempt to make people feel bad every morning and to force them to go stick their fingers in a wall socket. We chose these things we included as a way to point people toward the possibility of transformation even while remembering the great pain we have experienced as humanity. — Shane Claiborne

The Mommy Mystique tells us that we are the luckiest women in the world
the freest, with the most choices, the broadest horizons, the best luck, and the most wealth. It says we have the knowledge and know-how to make "informed decisions" that will guarantee the successful course of our children's lives. It tells us that if we choose badly our children will fall prey to countless dangers
from insecure attachment to drugs to kidnapping to a third-rate college. And if this happens, if our children stray from the path toward happiness and success, we will have no one but ourselves to blame. Because to point fingers out at society, to look beyond ourselves, is to shirk "personal responsibility." To admit that we cannot do everything ourselves, that indeed we need help
and help on a large, systematic scale
is tantamount to admitting personal failure. — Judith Warner

My two fingers on a typewriter have never connected with my brain. My hand on a pen does. A fountain pen, of course. Ball-point pens are only good for filling out forms on a plane. — Graham Greene

two of them, Ivan and Sergei, had strolled in, squinting curiously at my market stall. They seemed particularly interested in all the silk clothing I had just brought back from India. Ivan - the tall, dark, handsome one - was relatively polite. He waved a slender hand at his own stall, packed with the very same silk, and said, 'I think we have a problem.' Viktor - his short, psychotic brother - was more to the point. The stubby fingers of one hand curled around my table, lifted it and tipped the whole thing over. He glared at me. 'If that goes back up,' he growled, 'I'm — Frank Kusy

He was going to enjoy pressing his little scheming hostess into improprieties she'd not soon forget. He didn't need a storm to make his point; he had his own powers of persuasion-and he'd use them all on her.
He led her to the library, to the table holding the sherry. "Will you do the honors?" He leaned forward and added in a low voice, "Or perhaps you'd like us to do it together-your hand under mine, your fingers wrapped around the neck of the decanter as we-"
Color flooded her cheeks, and she said in a breathless voice, "I will be glad to pour us some sherry-though I'm surprised you wish for some more."
"It is wretched, but your cook has ruined my palate.When I return to London, I won't know good port from bad, burned meat from raw, and don't begin to talk to me about soups. — Karen Hawkins

Something statuesque is approaching her. It radiates a field of dynamic tension that grows more intense the closer it comes, its shadow lengthening upon the floor. Still, she cannot turn around to see the horror behind her, for at this point she cannot move her body, which is stiff-jointed and rigid. Perhaps she can scream, she thinks, and makes an attempt to do so. But this fails, because by then there is already a firm and tepid hand that has covered her mouth from behind. The fingers on her lips feel like thick, naked crayons. — Thomas Ligotti

I like the way Nepalis point by pouting their lips; they reckon pointing with a finger is rude. — Jane Wilson-Howarth

I think we have reached a level in society - with Helen Mirren playing The Queen - when we're not surprised any more. We don't mention names. Yes, it's obvious by inference. But we don't mention names and the film is not up to point fingers at Royalty. — David Suchet

Sam snapped his fingers and crooked a finger his way. "Get over here, Michael. This is your niece." Michael joined the group. His gait was slightly unsteady, though not because of any lingering effects of the accident. Those were pretty much gone. He intended to be point guard this year, and he intended to be a starter. No, the shakiness had to do with the sense of witnessing awesome things in the here and now. Without a thought to the camcorder, he stared down at the baby. — Barbara Delinsky

I hadn't said goodbye. It had been easier, like always, to just disappear, sparing myself the messy details of another farewell. Now, my fingers hovered over my track pad, moving the cursor down to his comment section before I stopped myself. What was the point? Anything I said now would only be an afterthought.
Elizabeth who goes by her middle name — Sarah Dessen

- You take evil for good. It's a passing crisis. It's the result of your illness, perhaps.
- You do despise me! It's simply that I don't want to do good, I want to do evil, and it has nothing to do with illness.
- Why do evil?
- So that everything will be destroyed. Oh, how nice it would be if everything were destroyed! You know, Alyosha, I sometimes think of doing a lot of harm. I would do it for a long while secretly and then suddenly everyone would find out. Everyone will stand around and point their fingers at me and I will look at them all. That would be awfully nice. — Fyodor Dostoyevsky

One would truly need a great and spacious makeup kit to compete with beauty as portrayed in media all around us. Yet at the end of the day there would still be those "in the attitude of mocking and point their fingers" as Lehi saw (1 Nephi 8:27) because however much one tries in the world of glamour and fashion, it will never be glamorous enough. — Jeffrey R. Holland

Just across the bridge is the gigantic marketplace, the insatiable consumer machine that drives the violence here. North Americans smoke the dope, snort the coke, shoot the heroin, do the meth, and then have the nerve to point south (down, of course, on the map), and wag their fingers at the "Mexican drug problem" and Mexican corruption. — Don Winslow

I stay in bed for as long as possible, but eventually my bladder wins. When I come back from the bathroom, he's looking out my window. He turns around and laughs. "Your hair. It's sticking up in all different directions." St. Clair pronounces it die-rections and illustrates his point by poking his fingers up around his head like antlers.
"You're one to speak."
"Ah,but it looks purposeful on me. Took me ages to realize the best way to get that mussed look was to ignore it completely."
"So you're saying it looks like crap on me?" I glance in the mirror,and I'm alarmed to discover I do resemble a horned beast.
"No.I like it. — Stephanie Perkins

Her magic sent him sprawling, and it then hurled into Rhysand again - so hard that his head cracked against the stones and the knife dropped from his splayed fingers. No one made a move to help him, and she struck him once more with her power. The red marble splintered where he hit it, spiderwebbing toward me. With wave after wave she hit him. Rhys groaned.
"Stop," I breathed, blood filling my mouth as I strained a hand to reach her feet. "Please."
Rhys's arms buckled as he fought to rise, and blood dripped from his nose, splattering on the marble. His eyes met mine.
The bond between us went taut. I flashed between my body and his, seeing myself through his eyes, bleeding and broken and sobbing.
I snapped back into my own mind as Amarantha turned to me again. "Stop? Stop? Don't pretend you care, human," she crooned, and curled her finger. I arched my back, my spine straining to the point of cracking, and Rhysand bellowed my name as I lost my grip on the room. — Sarah J. Maas

Time and the bell have buried the day,
The black cloud carries the sun away.
Will the sunflower turn to us, will the clematis
Stray down, bend to us; tendril and spray
Clutch and cling?
Chill
Fingers of yew be curled
Down on us? After the kingfisher's wing
Has answered light to light, and is silent, the light is still
At the still point of the turning world. — T. S. Eliot

Make me an offer, " I said at last. "Write it up, and give me a point-by-point outline of why you're a good would-be suitor. "
He started to laugh, then saw my face. "Seriously? That's like homework. There's a reason I'm not in college. " I snapped my fingers. "Get to it, Ivashkov. I want to see you put in a good day's work. "
I expected a joke or a brush-off until later, but instead, he said, "Okay. "
"Okay?"
"Yep. I'm going to go back to my room right now to start drafting my assignment. "
I stared incredulously as he reached for his coat. I had never seen Adrian move that fast when any kind of labor was involved. Oh no. What had I gotten myself into? — Richelle Mead

People are going to wonder why you're trying to be different; it's just a natural instinct. If I was to walk down the street in a kilt, then dudes would wonder why I'm doing that, they'd think I was different or gay. It's natural for people to point fingers. That's my whole reason for trying to switch things up; don't judge a book by it's cover. — Kid Cudi

When hands are joined, no one can point fingers. — Jason Mraz

Spiritually the jugs may be graduated thus: Just below the shoulder of the first bottle, serious and concentrated conversation. Two inches farther down, sweetly sad memory. Three inches more, thoughts of old and satisfactory loves. An inch, thoughts of old and bitter loves. Bottom of the first jug, general and undirected sadness. Shoulder of the second jug, black, unholy despondency. Two fingers down, a song of death or longing. A thumb, every other song each one knows. The graduation stops here, for the trail splits and there is no certainty. From this point on, anything can happen. — John Steinbeck

I don't cook anything fancy. Sheba's appetite isn't up to much and I've never been one for sauces. We eat nursery food mainly. Beans on toast, Welsh rarebit, fish fingers. Sheba leans against the oven and watches me while I work. At a certain point, she usually asks for wine. I have tried to get her to wait until she's eaten something, but she gets very scratchy when I do that, so these days I tend to give in straightaway and pour her a small glass from the carton in the fridge. You choose your battles. Sheba is a bit of a snob about drink and she keeps whining at me to get a grander sort. 'Something in a bottle, at least', she says. But I continue to buy the cartons. we are on a tight budget these days. And for all her carping, Sheba doesn't seem to have too much trouble knocking back the cheap stuff. — Zoe Heller

Not according to this," Jazz said, taking the report. "No evidence of sexual activity or anything like it."
"Well, there's that," Howie said, sounding relieved. Jazz wondered at that - was it really so much better to be unmolested, but still murdered in a horrible fashion? To die in pain and terror, stripped, left in a field, your fingers cut off? But as long as you weren't raped, well, that was alright, then? Did it really matter at that point? — Barry Lyga

I do not take steroids. I never have. It's sad to me that people want to point fingers. I don't do that. That's not me. I wouldn't feel like a human being. — Jackie Joyner-Kersee

Julia doesn't like James Gillen, but that's not the point, not out here. In the Court, back in the Court any eye you catch could be Love peal-of-bells-firework-burst Love, all among the sweet spray of the music and the rainbowing prisms of the lights, this could be the one huge mystery every book and film and song is sizzling with; could be your one-and-only shoulder to lean your head on, fingers woven with yours and lips gentle on your hair and Our Song pouring out of every speaker. This could be the one heart that will open to your touch and offer up its never-spoken secrets, that has spaces perfectly shaped to hold all of yours. — Tana French

Your heart just breaks, that's all. But you can't judge or point fingers. You just have to be lucky enough to find someone who appreciates you. — Audrey Hepburn

When things go bad, it's easy to point fingers. People who attempt to switch the blame are afraid to fail. We've all been afraid to fail before a game, but it shouldn't stop us from continuing, and from doing what we have to do to get the job done. — John Elway

Accept a loss as a learning experience, and never point fingers at your teammates — Michael Jordan

Lucas was fifteen minutes late to class on Friday, and we had a pop quiz first thing - which he missed. My first thought was how irresponsible it was to miss a quiz ... and then I remembered that I missed the midterm. I couldn't exactly point any fingers. — Tammara Webber

I think there are so many problems in the world today, we have to figure out how to fix them rather than point fingers at each other. — Shane Smith

At least, you two have decent manners," says Effie as we're finishing the main course. "The pair last year ate everything with their hands like a couple of savages. It completely upset my digestion."
... My mother taught Prim and me to eat properly, so yes, I can handle a fork and knife. But I hate Effie Trinket's comment so much I make a point of eating the rest of my meal with my fingers. Then I wipe my hands on the tablecloth. This makes her purse her lips tightly together. — Suzanne Collins

... praise any word that can hold you. Praise all but the vanishing point where we stand now, not quite parted. Already memories fall like blows. But soon they will be treasure, dropped like gold through a miser's fingers as he makes his accounts ... Praise each insomniac hour, kept wide awake by your glow. Sleep would only have robbed more coins from this vandal hoarded store. — Barbara Kingsolver

I open the orangutan's door and set a pan of fruits, vegetables, and nuts on the floor. As I close it, her long arm reaches through the bars. She points at an orange in another pan.
'That? You want that?'
She continues to point, blinking at me with close-set eyes. Her features are concave, her face a wide platter fringed with red hair. She's the most outrageous and beautiful thing I've ever seen.
'Here,' I say, handing her the orange. 'You can have it.'
She takes it and sets it on the floor. Then she reaches out again. After several seconds of serious misgivings, I hold out my hand. She wraps her long fingers around it, then lets go. She sits on her haunches and peels her orange.
I stare in amazement. She was thanking me. — Sara Gruen

And when you came right down to it, the only purpose to life that I have ever been able to find is not to die. You couldn't let them push you out the door to go gentle into that good night. You had to rage, rage, and slam that door on the bastards' fingers. That was the contest - to delay the end of your personal match as long as you could. The point was not to win; you never did. Nobody can win in a game that ends with everybody dying - always, without exception. No, the only real point was to fight back and enjoy the combat. And by gum, I would. — Jeff Lindsay

All of us should be much more humble and contrite when we point the finger at somebody else, because four more fingers are pointing back at us. — Michael Eric Dyson

People like to think the worst. They like to have hushed gossip sessions and point their fingers at someone's problems that are more obvious than their own. — Marcia Lynn McClure

He who has talent in him must be purer in soul than anyone else. Another will be forgiven much, but to him it will not be forgiven. A man who leaves the house in bright, festive clothes needs only one drop of mud splashed from under a wheel, and people all surround him, point their fingers at him, and talk about his slovenliness, while the same people ignore many spots on other passers-by who are wearing everyday clothes. For on everyday clothes the spots do not show. — Nikolai Gogol

Billy walked into a hall where though it was windowless there was not only light but shafts of it, ajut from the ceiling, each starting at a random point in the unbroken surface and crazy-pillaring down in random crosshatched directions, as if the room were nostalgic for moonbeams it had never seen and grew its own simulacra. He walked through and under those interlaced fat fingers of imagined light toward a waiting thing. — China Mieville

I wouldn't point fingers if I were you. You know what they say: those who point fingers wind up with them broken so badly they point straight back at them. - Shazad — Alwyn Hamilton

I would never point a finger at anyone and say, 'They lived their life badly.' I take it as it comes and deal with each situation as it arrives. — Gillian Anderson

The most enviable person in my estimation is a believer who is light of back (having little property), prays a great deal, makes good his worship of his Lord, Mighty and Magnificent, and makes do with little. The fingers of people do not point at him and he remains patient with this untill he meets Allah, Mighty and Magnificent; then, when death comes to him, his inheritance is paltry and his mourners are few. — Ibn Rajab Al Hanbali

His hand slid up my spine, bringing me closer, pinning my hands between us as I watched his neck bend.
I had a feeling I knew where this was going.
"Max," I warned, my body bracing.
"Quiet," he ordered softly. "Got a point to make, honey."
"Max!" I snapped.
"Let's see how good this could be," he muttered, his eyes on my mouth and I knew, I just knew, he was going to kiss me.
"Max, don't you-"
But his fingers had sifted into my hair against my scalp cupping my head, holding me steady and his mouth came down on mine, cutting off my words. — Kristen Ashley

The trees' bare bony fingers
point crookedly
towards Heaven or Hell
or worse than that, towards nowhere. — Stephanie Hemphill

It is very easy to point fingers at others sitting at home, but very difficult to play the game. — Misbah-ul-Haq

If all people were to be judged by 'right and wrong', nobody would be wholly right or wholly wrong - for have not all people 'sinned and fallen from the glory of God'? It seems more than a little unfair that some folks with at least as much 'sin' themselves as any gay or trans person, like to jump up and down and point fingers at other people. — Christina Engela

The solid lines will be new plantings. The maze will be the centerpiece of the new garden. The pond on one side, the theater on another, so that from the theater one will look across the maze to the pond. There may be viewing places in the theater itself so that visitors may see the maze and those within it. It will be - The pencil finally broke through the paper at this point. He balled his fist, frustrated, the words bottled up inside him. Slim fingers covered his fist, cool and comforting. He looked up. "Beautiful," she said. "It will be beautiful." His breath seemed to stop in his lungs. Her eyes were so big, so earnest, so completely captivated by his trifling drawings, his esoteric work. — Elizabeth Hoyt

Comparisons are like rigid fingers - eager to point at a subject but unwilling to grasp it. — Richelle E. Goodrich

And that was the point I knew I just loved this filthy, ugly, loquacious man in a fur coat, who would spend the day roaming all over town, looking for bright lights, and laughter - and then at night come on stage, and unbutton two buttons on his waistcoat, with his clumsy, fat fingers, and show you his heart beneath. — Caitlin Moran

You looked strange climbing in the tree like that."
Tiger Lily pulled her braids between her fingers, her sudden self-consciousness feeling foreign and strange to her.
"I didn't do it to look nice," she said.
"But you do care."
Tiger Lily studied the tree and decided if she did care, she would now choose not to. "I don't," she said.
"All girls do," he added, pushing the point.
"You must not know many girls."
"I know a million," Peter said, dark and serious. There was a long awkward silence, but if Peter regretted his words, I couldn't tell. — Jodi Lynn Anderson

But that's not what you said when she walked into the room," said Simon quietly. "You said, 'Why didn't you ever tell me I had a brother?'"
"I know." Clary yanked a blade of grass out of the dirt, worrying it between her fingers. "I guess I can't help thinking that if I'd known the truth, I wouldn't have met Jace the way I did. I wouldn't have fallen in love with him."
Simon was silent for a moment. "I don't think I've ever heard you say that before."
"That I love him?" She laughed, but it sounded dreary even to her ears. "Seems useless to pretend like I don't, at this point. Maybe it doesn't matter. I probably won't ever see him again, anyway."
"He'll come back."
"Maybe."
"He'll come back," Simon said again. "For you. — Cassandra Clare

Shower sex sucks," Meryn announced loudly.
Elizabeth leaned forward dying to know what prompted that statement. "What happened?"
"Slippery surfaces and not the good kind, one." Meryn started ticking off reasons on her fingers. "Water not a natural lubricant, two. Height differences, three. And I got a freaking charley horse right when..." Aiden covered her mouth at that point.
Ahh. So someone had fun and someone didn't. Poor Meryn. — Alanea Alder

Lie on your back and pinch off your nose. Preferably with a diver's nose clip, but your fingers will do. Just make a point to arrange your arm in a way that minimizes its fatigue. Stick a drinking straw in your mouth and breathe. That's it. — Andy Bolton

I craned my neck to see his face, which was pointed toward the wall. What looked like a puncture mark was visible on his neck. I held my fingers to a pulse point. The beating was faint. No wonder this man was the most quiet grown-up in the library. He was dying. — Shari Hearn

Ronan raised his brows. "To the tune of fifty keystones?"
"What do I care?" Kestrel wanted to end this conversation. "I am wealthy enough." She touched Ronan's sleeve. "And how much" - she rubbed the silk between her fingers - "did this cost?"
"Ronan, whose deftly embroidered shirt was easily the same price the slave had been, allowed that a point had been made.
"He will last longer than this shirt." Kestrel let go of the cloth. "I'd say I got a bargain. — Marie Rutkoski

His fingers are too long and when he talks he uses them to point out moments in his sentences. When he does, as the tips of his spindly fingers touch the words his mouth forms, his words turn dark before my eyes and disintegrate like twisted people caught embracing the metallic surface of a detonating atomic bomb, then his breath blows away the ashes making way for fresh words. — Craig Stone

A child isn't born bitter. I point no fingers as to who tainted the clean, pure pool of my childhood. Let's just say that when I realized that I didn't want to grow up, the damage was already done. Knowing that being grown up was no swell place to be means that you are grown up enough to notice. And you can't go back from there. You have to forge another route, draw your own map. — Hiromi Goto