Pull Up A Chair Quotes & Sayings

Her hand reached up and took a strand of his hair between her fingers. "Simple as that."
She gently pulled on that curl and let it go. "It's so springy."
They'd barely grazed at the truth, but I she was satisfied - and distracted. By his hair, of all things.
"I feel like a sheep that has been overlooked during spring shearing," he murmured.
"Yes, adorably fluffy."
Another time he might have protested the use of that adjective. But now he was all too relieved. "Would you like me to pull my chair closer, so you may fondle my hair with greater ease?" he asked.
She beamed at him. "Why, yes, I'd like exactly that. — Sherry Thomas

When I lift her, she wraps her legs around me and I carry her to an oversized chair. I fall back onto it and giver her bum a good slap, making her scream, "Hey!"
I hush her complaint with another kiss, and pull her hips down against mine until she lets her head fall back and sinks into my lap perfectly.
It's still our wedding night. She's all mine until the sun rises and it's time to release her back into the world. Until then, let the celebration continue. — Wendy Higgins

Pull up a chair. Take a taste. Come join us. Life is so endlessly delicious. — Ruth Reichl

Oh shit, oh shit, stupid shower present!"
Now she did pull her hair as she made the dash to her office.
Roarke sat in her visitor's chair, comfortably involved with his PPC. He glanced up, let loose a regretful sigh. "You changed. And I didn't have any time to ogle you in uniform."
"I have to go shopping!"
Staring at her, Roarke pressed his fingertips to his temple. "I'm sorry, I believe I must have had a small stroke. What did you say?"
"This isn't funny." She bent down, gripped him by the lapels. "I forgot to get a thing for the thing, and I don't even know what the thing is supposed to be. Now I have to go out and hunt something down. Except - " Her eyes went from slightly mad to speculative. "We have all kinds of things around the house. Couldn't I just wrap something up and - "
"No."
"Crap! — J.D. Robb

My tablecloth was missing in action and long, jagged scratches covered the table's surface.The scratches looked suspiciously like letters. I climbed on a chair and looked at it from above. MINE. Oh, that's great. Fantastic. So mature. Perhaps he would pull my pigtails next or stick a tack on my seat. — Ilona Andrews

Marcy grunted. Tired of watching her fight her way out of the chair, I gave her a good pull. She crossed — Rae Davies

Silent, scarlet picking though this grand new year, an optimistic premise promised with sickening cheer. So please, pull up a chair and take a stand for all grand intentions. List your resolutions then kindly re-arrange them. Departmentalize your wicked, wonton ways - tell me all about yourself, but spend the most time on the things you hate. Pull out all your in-efficacious and ridiculous disguises; put on a simple act but perform it with abandon. Put your heart and your soul into the fire. Burn your thoughts before you think them, burn them up and take their stink in. — Jonathan Douglas Duran

I like when they open the door and pull out a chair. I'm really into a man's man. — Brooke Burns

The writing is really hard. You're alone. It really pulls it out of you. You pull it out of your head. But when you're a director, you're shopping - you're picking this actor, you're picking this scene. It's like the most intense kinetic high-speed shopping of all time. You sit in a chair and it will all come rushing at you like a wind tunnel. — Tony Gilroy

Kiernan reaches to pull out my chair, but I beat him to it and then nudge the chair across from me out about six inches with my foot.
He pulls it out the rest of the way and says, "Thank you, dearest," in a droll tone before retreating behind the menu. — Rysa Walker

The phone rang. I picked it up.
"Are you sitting down?" Curran's voice asked.
"Yes."
"Good."
Click.
I listened to the disconnect signal. If he wanted me to sit, then I'd stand. I got up. The chair got up with me and I ended up bent over my desk, with the chair stuck to my butt. I grabbed the edge of the chair and tried to pull it off.
It remained stuck.
I would murder him. Slowly. And I'd enjoy every second of it. — Ilona Andrews

Rory stood up with some difficulty, the chair still tied to him. He leaned over me [Maria] and managed to pull my ropes free. Then he turned to Dr Bloom.
'We're escaping,' he said. 'Goodbye.'
Chair still tied to his back, he ran with me from the room. I take it all back. Rory is just wonderful. — James Goss

So, how are things with you and Curran?"
There were times in life when I wished for supreme mental powers. Like telekinesis. Mostly, I wanted them to crush my opponents. But right now I wanted them so I could pull the chair out from under Andrea and make her fall on her butt.
I settled for spitting three times over my left shoulder.
"Are you warding off evil?" Raphael's eyes widened.
"Well, the two of you did say the forbidden name. I have to take precautions. I need something wooden. Lean forward, Andrea, so I can knock on your head."
Andrea cracked a smile.
"To answer your question, we're great. Never better. I haven't seen His Fussiness in two months, and I couldn't be happier. — Ilona Andrews

The trouble with you is," she said, "you sit in front of that window all the time where there's nothing to look out at. You need some inspiration and an out-let. If you would let me pull your chair around to look at the TV, you would quit thinking about morbid stuff, death and hell and judgement. My Lord. — Flannery O'Connor

Mr. Shepherd, ye cannot stop a bad thought from coming into your head. But ye need not pull up a chair and bide it sit down. - Mrs. Brown — Barbara Kingsolver

If strangers and strange sights can shake the world of children, it takes the people they know and love best to pull it out from under them like a chair. — John Eldredge

He drew his chair closer and reached for her hand. "Kate, look at me," he said. Her chin was still pointing down, but her eyes came up to meet his. Her expression nearly drove the breath from him. How could she wear her feelings so openly and still function? "So now you know. I've never let myself get close to a woman because I'm not a good long-term bet. But I care for you. I've always cared for you." Without asking permission, he reached up behind her neck to stroke the heavy coil of her hair. He leaned forward, giving her plenty of time to pull away if she chose. She didn't. He kissed her softly on the mouth. Nothing had ever felt more right or natural than kissing Kate, and she didn't pull away from him. She leaned toward him and kissed him back. — Elizabeth Camden

Attraction

The whites of his eyes
pull me like moons.
He smiles. I believe
his face. Already
my body slips down in the chair:

I recline on my side,
offering peeled grapes.
I can taste his tongue
in my mouth
whenever he speaks.

I suspect he lies.
But my body oils itself loose.
When he gets up to fix a drink
my legs like derricks
hoist me off the seat.
I am thirsty, it seams.

Already I see the seduction
far off in the distance
like a large tree
dwarfed by a rise
in the road.

I put away objections
as quietly as quilts.
Already I explain to myself
how marriages are broken--
accidentally, like arms or legs. — Enid Shomer

I hug her one more time and pull her down to the bed. And in my mind, I rise up from the bed and look down on us, and look down at everybody else in this hospital who might have the good fortune of holding a pretty girl right now, and then at the entire Brooklyn block, and then the neighborhood, and then Brooklyn, and then New York City, and then the whole Tri-State Area, and then this little corner of America- with laser eyes I can see into every house- and then the whole country and the hemisphere and now the whole stupid world, everyone in every bed, couch, futon, chair, hammock, love seat, and tent, everyone kissing or touching eachother ... and i know that i'm the happiest of all of them. — Ned Vizzini

Haymitch Abernathy, a paunchy, middle-aged man, who at this moment appears hollering something unintelligible, staggers onto the stage, and falls into the third chair. He's drunk. Very. The crowd responds with its token applause, but he's confused and tries to give Effie Trinket a big hug, which she barely manages to fend off. The mayor looks distressed. Since all of this is being televised, right now District 12 is the laughingstock of Panem, and he knows it. He quickly tries to pull the attention back to the reaping by introducing Effie Trinket. Bright — Suzanne Collins

I have the overwhelming urge to pull her up out of her chair and kiss her in front of everyone, then scream my resignation at the top of my lungs. — Colleen Hoover

Tohr took a pull of his beer. "What the hell is this?"
"When Harry Met Sally."
Tohr lowered the longneck from his mouth. "What?"
"Shut it. After this, we're going to watch an episode of Moonlighting. Then An Affair to Remember - the old-school one, not that stupidity with Warren Beatty. Then The Princess Bride - "
Tohr hit the switch by his hip and straightened the chair up. "Okay. Right. Have fun with this - — J.R. Ward

And now we can't," I said. "Which sucks, but the main thing is that your dad's alive."
He smiled, hesitant at first, then a blazing grin broke through that made my heart stop. I recovered and grinned back and went to throw my arms around his neck, then stopped, blushing. Before I could pull back, he caught my elbows and put my arms around his neck and pulled me into a hug.
Then he jumped, chair swiveling so fast I nearly went flying. I heard footsteps in the hall and I scrambled off his lap just as Simon swung in, breathing heavily, like he'd come running. — Kelley Armstrong

Well, you have the luxury of looking beautiful regardless of what you wear."

"That is not true; you definitely pull off that 'I don't give a crap how I look but I look flawless' look."

He gives me a cocky smirk and leans back in his chair. "I do, don't I? — Anna Todd

I love the theater of the mind because you can go anywhere. You can say anything, and you pull people in. [You] can be jumping out of a window or riding a cow or having bubble-wrap sex or spraying your body with Pam and sliding out of your chair. — Harland Williams

You wake up on a winter morning and pull up the shade, and what lay there the evening before is no longer there
the sodden gray yard, the dog droppings, the tire tracks in the frozen mud, the broken lawn chair you forgot to take in last fall. All this has disappeared overnight, and what you look out on is not the snow of Narnia but the snow of home, which is no less shimmering and white as it falls. The earth is covered with it, and it is falling still in silence so deep that you can hear its silence. It is snow to be shoveled, to make driving even worse than usual, snow to be joked about and cursed at, but unless the child in you is entirely dead, it is snow, too, that can make the heart beat faster when it catches you by surprise that way, before your defenses are up. It is snow that can awaken memories of things more wonderful than anything you ever knew or dreamed. — Frederick Buechner

In the Buddhist view, I depend on you for my existence. All things depend on each other, equally. Welcome to the doctrine of dependent origination. It's teeter-totter metaphysics - I arise, you arise; you arise, I arise. Forget about our presumed Maker, the divine machinist in the sky. Take a look at this moment right now. You are you because you are not something else; therefore, what you are not - the chair beneath you, the air in your lungs, these words - births you through an infinity of opposites. It's like the ultimate Dr. Seuss riddle: Without all the things that are not you, who would you be you to? There's no Higher Power in this system to grab on to for support; we are all already supporting each other. Pull a person or people the wrong way and you immediately redefine yourself in light of what you've done to your neighbor. — Shozan Jack Haubner

It might have felt easier if she'd been able to say that she moved across the room to him in a trance, as if he were a vampire exerting some kind of mind control. That would have been a cop-out, though. Not to mention a lie. She was exquisitely aware of every movement she made as she uncurled her legs, rose from her chair and walked slowly and carefully around the end of the coffee table towards him. She felt the wide hem of her yoga pants sway around her ankles, felt the nap of the blue-and-green area rug and then the cool smoothness of the wooden floorboards beneath her feet. She felt the way the thick sofa cushions gave beneath her as she sat beside him and the pull of gravity when his heavier weight made a deeper depression that her body rolled naturally into ... And then she felt everything. — Christine Warren

inside me, the liquor feels like fire and I like it. "Maybe it should be you," I say matter-of-factly as I pull up a chair. "You hate life, anyway." "Very true," says Haymitch. "And since last time I tried to keep you alive . . . seems like I'm obligated to save the boy this time." "That's another good point," I say, wiping my nose and tipping up the bottle again. "Peeta's argument is that since I chose you, I now owe him. Anything he wants. And what he wants is the chance to go in — Suzanne Collins

Ven mazel kumt, shtelt im a shtul. When mazel comes, pull up a chair for it. (p. 292) — Rebecca Goldstein

Everybody, will you please just sit for a minute?
Like children in a game of musical chairs, Tommy's three guests immediately reach for the nearest chair, pull it out from the table, and sit---even her brother. Well, says Tommy. Something in my life goes according to plan. — Julia Glass

breezed past me towards the cockpit. "I'll drive." "Why you?" Wait, shut up, Penny. You've got a goose-egg on your forehead and your heart aches. You don't want to drive! Fortunately, Claire had her answer ready. "Artificially enhanced super reflexes, I've been watching Remmy, and I play more flight simulators than you do." Relieved to be relieved of duty, I sank down in a chair and closed my eyes. The ship lurched, pulling me down for a second, but that meant we were airborne. Or spaceborne. I only felt a gentle tug to one side as we accelerated. Claire was getting the hang of the system. I peeked enough to see the wall towards the back of the ship brighten. Evidence for my theory that Remmy used the push of aetheric rotors to disguise the pull of engine thrust. "Any guesses how I find Europa station?" Claire called out. — Richard Roberts

You may have heard the news that the independent bookstore is dead, that books are dead, that maybe even reading is dead - to which I say, Pull up a chair, friend. I have a story to tell. — Ann Patchett

He leans back casually in his chair as I watch the corner of his mouth pull up just a fraction. "And what sort of conversation is it that you think you've missed?"

I take a deep breath and put the DVD's onto the floor. "The one about us. — Beckie Stevenson

Get off that damn chair and pull yourself together. You're supposed to be an ageless creature of chaos and all I'm getting right now is sulking city boy. — Pippa DaCosta

You look at the crime and you look at the criminal. If it's a dope dealer who guns down an undercover narcotics officer, then he gets the gas. If it's a drifter who rapes a three-year-old girl, drowns her by holding her little head in a mudhole, then throws her body off a bridge, then you take his life and thank god he's gone. If it's an escaped convict who breaks into a farmhouse late at night and beats and tortures an elderly couple before burning them with their house, then you strap him in a chair, hook up a few wires, pray for his soul, and pull the switch. And if it's two dopeheads who gang-rape a ten-year-old girl and kick her with pointed-toe cowboy boots until her jaws break, then you happily, merrily, thankfully, gleefully lock them in a gas chamber and listen to them squeal. It's very simple. Their crimes were barbaric. Death is too good for them, much too good. — John Grisham

I calculated how easy it would be to pull a chair next to the windowsill, climb up, and simply allow my body to fall four stories to the street. Then an inner voice broke in, There's got to be something more. Go find it. — Debra Moffitt

Aren't you cold walking around without a robe on?" I pulled out a chair before he could pull it out for me and flopped down. I had a strip of bacon in my mouth by the time Larry replied."I'm taking one for the team." He treated me to a half-smile. "I know how much you like staring at my ass ... sets."I threw my bacon at him.
savor — Kate Evangelista

One by one, she undid the metal buttons. The last one proved difficult, but with a determined tug, it released. His stomach muscles contracted as she reached inside to gently pull out his erection. She had at first thought to remove his trousers, but the sight of him sprawled decadently in the chair, legs spread, the placket open and draping his upper thigh, magnificent c*ck standing at attention . . . No, the trousers would stay exactly where they were. — Evangeline Collins

Christianity in the West has for so long assumed that it has everything to give and nothing to learn. We have taken the role again and again of teacher and preacher. We have talked loud and often, seeking to control the conversation, and manipulate the discussion to our own ends. It's time for us to take a seat in the classroom, to pull up a chair at the table, and listen. — Bryan Berghoef

Sophisticated-looking than the girl he used to know. People in hospitals never looked good. And yet, somehow, she did. Dianna was in the middle of saying something to a thin woman with a severe black haircut who was sitting on a chair beside the bed when she looked up and saw him. Breaking off in the middle of her sentence, she sucked in a deep breath, her face flushing beneath his scrutiny. And yet, even as he mentally dissected all the ways she'd changed, all the reasons they were more different than ever, his body was telling him to get over there, to pull her tight against him and kiss her until they were both gasping for air. What — Bella Andre

I've come out many times publicly in support of the death penalty. I've stated that I'd be more than willing personally to pull the switch on some of the monsters I've hunted in my career with the FBI. But Bruno Hauptmann just doesn't fit into this category -- the evidence just wasn't, and isn't, there to have confidently sent him to the electric chair. To impose the one sentence for which there is no retroactive correction requires a far higher standard of proof than was seen here. Blaming him for the entire crime was, to my mind, an expedient and simpleminded solution to a private horror that had become a national obsession. — John E. Douglas

Ten minutes," Butch whispered into Marissa's ear. "Can I have ten minutes with you before you go? Please, baby ... "
V rolled his eyes and was relieved to be annoyed at the lovey-dovey routine. At least all the testosterone in him hadn't dried up.
"Baby ... please?"
V took a pull on his mug. "Marissa, throw the sap bastard a bone, would you? The simpering wears on my nerves."
"Well, we can't have that, can we?" Marissa packed up her papers with a laugh and shot Butch a look. "Ten minutes. And you'd better make them count."
Butch was up out of that chair like the thing was on fire. "Don't I always?"
"Mmm ... yes."
As the two locked lips, V snorted. "Have fun, kiddies. Somewhere else. — J.R. Ward