Prickled Quotes & Sayings

If we all had names to suit us, you'd be called Thorn in My Backside. Or Plague of the Gods."I prickled at his scathing tone. "And you'd be Miserable Blockhead.""Is that the best you can do?""Give me time. I'm half frozen." "Perhaps your name should be Icy Tyrant. No, wait. Frigid Despot. — Elly Blake

Lily had lived with the same pain for so long it felt like a part of her. The worst days, though, were when the pain was different. When it came faster, or harsher, or fiercer than she was used to. When it prickled instead of throbbed. When it attacked her right ankle instead of her left knee. When it woke her up at night instead of aching dully first thing in the morning. On those days, her standard-issue pain was replaced by something different and frightening, something that took over her body and left her without the slightest clue of when, or even if, it would release her.

Those times, her pain wasn't a part of her anymore. Those times, she was a part of it. — Robin Talley

When she said his name his arms prickled. Oh, he had it, all right. Had it bad. — Stephen King

My skin prickled and I looked back at the ocean. None of us ask for the things we inherit; they are thrust upon us, willy-nilly. Like The Marine, I suddenly understood. Mom and I weren't trespassing. This house was ours. This view was ours. And that seemed as absurd and unreal as the stories Sailor Hat had spun for me on the ferry. — Aimee Friedman

He lay down on his pallet and drew the fawn down beside him. He often lay so with it in the shed, or under the live oaks in the heat of the day. He lay with his head against its side. its ribs lifted and fell with its breathing. It rested its chin on his hand. It had a few short hairs there that prickled him. He had been cudgeling his wits for an excuse to bring the fawn inside at night to sleep with him, and now he had one that could not be disputed. He would smuggle it in and out as long as possible, in the name of peace. — Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings

Excerpted From Chapter 18
The most famous sign in the world was only a few hundred yards above me, and the sight of it stopped me in my tracks. The light bulbs surrounding the letters must have been controlled by a timer of some kind because they were off now. But what shocked me was the scale. I was used to seeing the sign from a distance. From this perspective there was no sense of the word HOLLYWOODLAND. All I saw were gigantic letters looming dimly above me in the moonlight like ancient monoliths erected in tribute to the gods of some long-extinct tribe.
A primal feeling of foreboding prickled the hairs on the back of my neck. I could imagine the traveler of an earlier age coming across Stonehenge in the dark and experiencing a similar sensation. — H.P. Oliver

I also felt a storm in the air. It prickled on the horizon. I felt it on my skin. The skies were clear, I could not wish for clearer. But I could feel the clouds massing against me, somewhere over the horizon. — Philippa Gregory

No, screw that. I've had nice guys. I've dated and taken my time before ending up in bed with them."
Silver's skin prickled with gooseflesh.
Zeb's hands moved onto Silver's shoulders, intensifying the charge racing through his body. "None of them made me crazy. None of them made me feel like I couldn't breathe right until we kissed. None of them made my whole body hum with the need to touch. You do." Zeb's grip shifted to Silver's forearms and pulled him to his feet. "You turned my life upside down, and I couldn't put it back together in any way that made sense without you. — K.A. Mitchell

He started to pull away again but she called his name so he stopped.
"Yeah?"
"Before you go, give me the dimples," she demanded.
That thing in his throat prickled and Hawk dipped his head and kissed the indentation at the base of his wife's throat. Then he lifted his head and smiled at her.
Her hand came to his face and he felt the pad of her thumb in one of his dimples.
Then her eyes moved from her thumb to his and she smiled back.
— Kristen Ashley

You should really be more careful who you let put their hands on you. A silky male voice hummed as hot, minty breath wafted around her ear and danced slowly across her nose. Sera inhaled deeply, her skin prickled with goose bumps. — Flora Roberts

Marshall was watching her again, and Jane's skin prickled under his perusal. That was when Jane realized she'd made a mistake. Those freckles, his background - they'd all misled her into thinking that he was a quiet little rabbit. He wasn't. He was the wolf that looked as if he were lounging about on the outskirts of the pack, a lone hanger-on, when in truth he had adopted that position simply so that he could see everything that transpired in the fields below. He wasn't solitary; he was waiting for someone to make a mistake. He looked willing to wait a very long time. — Courtney Milan

Heat prickled my cheeks. My palms went clammy. Love is a lot like food poisoning. — Suzanne Supplee

WHAT AM I? I howled at him as he retreated. A voice, deathly familiar, prickled at the back of my mind, instilling a sense of calm that came from deep inside, an answer to a question that was asked and answered somewhere in the depths of me. Soul eater, it said in a raspy, whispering voice. Succubus. — Robert J. Crane

Oh. Lord have mercy. Victor wasn't here to help with the interview. This wasn't an interview at all. It was an audition. Her heart thundered. Her limbs shook. Panic prickled down her spine. — Jennifer Ashley

Suspicion prickled at Ravenna. "Who is to say you are not the murderer, and now that you know I have useful information you won't dispatch me too?"
"None but me."
She glanced into the darkness where the butler had disappeared, then back at the tall, dark man who had subdued her quite effectively in a stable the previous night. "This is the part where you pull out the bloodstained dagger, isn't it?"
"Why wouldn't I have done it earlier, before Monsieur Brazil knew of your involvement?"
"No doubt you only thought of it at this moment."
"It seems I am carelessly shortsighted."
"It does."
"Miss Caulfield?"
"You are not the murderer?"
"Go to bed."

-Ravenna & Vitor — Katharine Ashe

It meant a lot of driving through nothingness, and sometimes all that prickled the radio dial were low-wattage religious broadcasts: preachers who thought the aliens were Jesus coming home, or that they carried the wrath of God in their round ships' bellies. — Sean Platt

Sere grass grew in tufts out of a pale, sandy soil, no richer for the thousands of souls planted there. Red-brown moss clumped amidst blankets of lichens of pale lavender-gray. Dark, twisted shrubs prickled rising above a knobby hillock, sharp, tiny leaves turning bronze or bright red and yellow with the advancing autumn. A wrought-iron gate guarded deep shadow inside a crypt, illustrated the silence of the grave, he thought. — Antonio Dias

And payment exacted for the crimes and weaknesses of a lifetime. Her hands shook, and tears prickled at the back of her eyes, but she couldn't even cry. Something horrible was going to happen to her, and she knew she deserved it, but she couldn't help shrieking inside that it wasn't fair, that she hadn't known what would happen back when she could still change things, back while it would have done any good. And now, nothing she could do could ever make up for what she'd done. She didn't think she could do good if she tried. — Mercedes Lackey

Achilles was looking at me. "Your hair never quite lies flat, here." He touched my head, just behind my ear. "I don't think I've ever told you how I like it."
My scalp prickled where his fingers had been. "You haven't," I said.
"I should have." His hand drifted down to the vee at the base of my throat, drew softly across the pulse. "What about this? Have I told you what I think of this, just here?"
"No," I said.
"This surely then." His hand moved across the muscles of my chest; my skin warmed beneath it. "Have I told you of this?"
"That you have told me." My breath caught a little as I spoke.
"And what of this?" His hand lingered over my hips, drew down the line of my thigh. "Have I spoken of it?"
"You have."
"And this? Surely I would not have forgotten this." His cat's smile. "Tell me I did not."
"You did not."
"There is this too." His hand was ceaseless now. "I know I have told you of this."
I closed my eyes. "Tell me again," I said. — Madeline Miller

Urquhart could somehow feel the glow on his skin as the hairs on his arms raised up and the thick pelt of man fur that covered his torso and back prickled as if the legs of a thousand insects were crawling on his body. — Clive Cussler

What's your name, honey?" Frank asked her. "Beth Riley," she said. She could hear footsteps overhead as the agents stomped around her parents' bedroom upstairs. "What's your real name?" he asked. Her skin prickled. "Beth Riley," she said again. — Chelsea Cain

The awareness that is not prickled and tugged by capricious emotion. The awareness that is aware that it is aware. — Anonymous

Sometimes,' he whispered at last, 'sometimes, I dream I am singing, and I wake from it with my throat aching.'
He couldn't see her face, or the tears that prickled at the corners of her eyes.
'What do you sing?' she whispered back. She heard the shush of the linen pillow as he shook his head.
'No song I've ever heard, or know,' he said softly. 'But I know I'm singing it for you. — Diana Gabaldon

I was just reaching for my towel when I heard a muffled thump from my bedroom. My fingers froze and the hair on the back of my neck prickled. In scary movies, this was always the part where the naked girl called out, "Hello?" or "Who's there?" or something equally stupid. But this naked girl wasn't announcing her presence to anyone. — Rachel Hawkins

My eyes prickled as Ash leaned in and kiss me. A particulary loud snore came from the cave, and the lump in the corner rolled toward us suspiciously — Julie Kagawa

Jav's face was numb. Fingertips ice cold. His shirt stuck to his back with sweat and every square inch o"f skin prickled and tingled. He could feel his heart breaking down, dropping off piece by piece into the rolling boil of his stomach. Every splash sending up clouds of toxic steam, choking his throat. He was sure the next words out would be inside a scream. Instead he heard a strong, calm voice - a seasoned captain taking over the helm.
"I'm with you," Jav said. "Fucking take their ship down. I'm here. Right until the end, I won't leave."

Excerpt From: Suanne Laqueur. "An Exaltation of Larks." iBooks. — Suanne Laqueur

What Liam saw was beyond his imagination, and immediately, all of his skin prickled with the bristling hairs. Dozens of shallow cuts paralleled in precision that had nothing to do with scratching yourself against a 'metal thingy'. It was a diary of Ryan's pain, a constant, neverending stabbing — K.A. Merikan

A robed figure stood before a coin, a cup, a sword, a wand---all of the symbols of all the tarot suits. An infinity symbol floated above his head; one arm was lifted in a posture of power. Yes, thought Adam. Understanding prickled and then evaded him.

He read the words at the bottom of the card.

The Magician. — Maggie Stiefvater

They prickled her like thorns and leaves growing under her skin, and she felt the ache of a glass vine caging her forearm. They would crack, and the jagged pieces would cut into her wrists. Her blood would tint the glass. It would splinter and cut deeper into her. — Anna-Marie McLemore

He didn't know how one's flesh prickled when fear took hold. He didn't understand what it was like to gaze into the future and know that it would be nothing more than a dark and lonely place. — Lorraine Heath

Bond closed his eyes and mentally explored his body. The worst pain was in his wrists and ankles and in his right hand where the Russian had cut him. In the centre of the body there was no feeling. He assumed that he had been given a local anaesthetic. The rest of his body ached dully as if he had been beaten all over. He could feel the pressure of bandages everywhere and his unshaven neck and chin prickled against the sheets. From the feel of the bristles he knew that he must have been at least three days without shaving. That meant two days since the morning of the torture. — Ian Fleming

The night folded around them with a sweetness and poignancy heightened by the new pale stars that prickled silver fire in the water of the lily ponds, by the scented winds, and by the nearness of each other. — Pauline Gedge