Quotes & Sayings About Pushing Her Away

I went over and over everything that had ever happened between us. I couldn't keep doing it, going back and fourth, holding her close and then pushing her away. It wasn't right — Jenny Han

Gregori lay awake for a long time, watching as the dawn crept forward, pushing away the night. One wave of his hand closed and locked the heavy shutters over the windows. Still he lay awake, holding Savannah close.
Because he had always known he was dangerous, he had feared for mortals and immortals alike at his hand. But somehow, perhaps naively, he had thought that once he was bound to his lifemate, he would become tamer, more domesticated. His fingers bunched in her hair. But Savannah made him wild. She made him far more dangerous than he had ever been. Before Savannah, he had had no emotions. He had killed when it was necessary because it was necessary. He had feared nothing because he loved nothing and had nothing to lose. Now he had everything to lose. And so he was more dangerous. For no one, nothing, would ever threaten Savannah and live. — Christine Feehan

As soon as he touched her she seemed to wince and stiffen. To embrace her was like embracing a jointed wooden image. And what was strange was that even when she was clasping him against her he had the feeling that she was simultaneously pushing him away with all her strength. — George Orwell

The pure menace radiating from my younger sister is undeniable. She can hate me, but I need her to know that she has something that Stella never did: a place to fall. "And if he hurts you or if anyone hurts you...you have me."
It feels unnatural, but I hug my sister. Her arms are limp at her sides, but she doesn't push me away.
"Remember, you have me," I repeat. — Katie McGarry

Rin thought of the crossbow bolt. Of the whoosh and sting of wind and fire heat and the man who would have killed her. Of pushing in front of Enna. Of almost dying. Of home and Ma and being farther away than the lands in tales, and maybe never going home. Of standing by a strange tree in a faraway wood with girls who spoke the language of fire. Of a queen of Kel who wanted them dead. — Shannon Hale

Eye on the shuttlecock, she ran forward, raised her battledore high, and slammed right into Henry Weston's chest. The wind knocked from her, Emma lost her balance and might have fallen had not Mr. Weston's arms shot out and caught her about the waist and shoulder. "Oh," she cried, embarrassed to have plowed into the man. Embarrassed to find his arms around her. Embarrassed to find she liked it. "I'm so sorry," she blurted, pushing away from him. "Don't be. I admire your singular focus. My goodness, Miss Smallwood, where is the timid little creature who flinched at every flying bird as though it were a cricket ball headed for her nose?" Emma straightened and righted her off-kilter bonnet. "I was determined not to embarrass myself," she admittedly breathlessly. "Only to do just that." He chuckled, and their eyes met in a moment of shared levity. Then he sobered. "Thank you for the laugh, Miss Smallwood. Just what I needed after yesterday. — Julie Klassen

What is going on with you?" she says, shaking her head and pushing me away. "What's up with all the love and affection? I mean, you of all people, you of the eternal iPod-hoodie combo. — Alyson Noel

He stabbed into her, driving deeply, repeatedly, iron-hard and demanding. She welcomed the piercing pleasure of his urgency, opening her legs wider, pushing her skirts away and wrapping her legs about him. His thrusts pushed her roughly against the table, but she rose to meet each one, clinging to him at the hip, grinding her own need to match his. Her fingers clawed at his buttocks, gripping him to her, pushing herself against him, devouring him.

The Gentlemen's Club — Emmanuelle De Maupassant

The Anne Rice books are a lot about infection. I read "Interview With the Vampire" a million times when I was in seventh and eighth grade. Also, [writing Gavriel's backstory] definitely came from those books: I sat down and reread them all and thought a lot about ... the way in which vampirism is pushing away from humanity in interesting ways, and creating something new from humanity. I imprinted on those books pretty hard.
Tanith Lee's "Sabella or the Blood Stone" was a big inspiration. I absolutely loved her books; when I was a kid, I wrote many bad Tanith Lee pastiches. Susie McKee Charnas' "The Vampire Tapestry." Poppy Z. Brite's "Lost Souls." Nancy Collins' "Sunglasses After Dark," which sounds like the most '80s title ever. It's about a vampire named Sonja Blue, and she goes around killing vampires. She's the only vampire who's half-alive. It's a really fun, blood-filled romp. It's very "Blade" before "Blade"
with a lady. — Holly Black

"I am so sorry, Joe," he whispered, gently pushing her hair away from her face and neck. "I know I keep fucking up," he said, pressing a kiss to her neck, "and that by all rights you should bitch slap me, but I can't stand the idea of you getting hurt."
His hand found its way to her panty clad hip and gave her a gentle squeeze. "It kills me to think of what could have happened that night, Joe," he explained softly as he pressed another kiss to her neck. "Do you have any idea how lost I would be without you?"
"You're my entire world, Joe," he said, pressing another kiss to her neck, this time lingering. "I don't know what I'd do without," he said against her skin. — R.L. Mathewson

I have nothing to offer you," he finally said in a guttural voice.
"Nothing."
Win's lips had turned dry. She moistened them, and tried to speak through a thrill of anxious trembling. "You have yourself," she whispered.
"You don't know me. You think you do, but you don't. The things I've done, the things I'm capable of
you and your family, all you know of life comes from books. If you understood anything
"
"Make me understand. Tell me what is so terrible that you must keep pushing me away."
He shook his head.
"Then stop torturing the both of us," she said unsteadily. "Leave me, or let me go."
"I can't," he snapped. "I can't, damn you." And before she could make a sound, he kissed her. — Lisa Kleypas

He gripped her wrist before it could continue its progress, senses too over loaded to withstand more. Though for some unknown reason, rather than pushing it away he did little more than halt its progress, trapping it between his heart and hand. Her eyes flew upward to meet his, surprise and curiosity in their emerald depths.

He lost himself in those eyes. — Amy Cook

He pulled the knitting away from her, throwing it in the grass, then sank down on his knees in front of her, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his head in her lap. He was shaking, she realized, and the tears were pouring down her face, onto him, as she stroked his long, silken hair and cried.
She didn't care what it sounded like - the hiccupping noises, the choking sobs.
Her own body was shaking, racked by the final release, and he sat back on his heels and pulled her out of the chair, into his arms, holding her so tightly that a weaker woman might break, whispering to her in Japanese, sweet, loving words, letting her cry.
She was a strong woman, and her tears, so long denied, only made her stronger.
His heart was pounding against hers, his hands firm and tender, pushing the hair away from her tear-drenched face. When he kissed her she couldn't breathe, and she didn't care. — Anne Stuart

I wanted to do something different. Therefore, the first person I thought would have been too exclusionary. It would have said me, me, me, me, me. I, I, I, I, I. As if I were pushing away my experiences from the experiences of others. Because basically what I was trying to do was show our commonality. I mean to say, in the very ordinariness of what I recount I think perhaps the reader will find resonances with his or her own life. — Paul Auster

The average person is unaware that he or she is living out a negative destiny according to his or her past (childhood) programming, preserving his or her familiar identity, and, in the process, pushing love away. On an unconscious level, many people sense that if they did not push love away, the whole world, as they have experienced it, would be shattered and they would not know who they were. — Robert W. Firestone

It seems, captain, that as her power grows, her tolerance diminishes. They are like lodestones, pushing each other away. Does power not grant immunity? Does power not strengthen the armour; does power not find assurance in itself? Can it be that those who hold the most power also know the greatest fear? — Steven Erikson

Shall I loose you from your cage?"
The words, laden with sensual promise, weakened her. He was offering her all the adventure and excitement she'd ever wanted- the things she could not commit to her list, could not admit to herself, even in her most personal of moments. How could she refuse?
She nodded her assent.
It was all he needed.
He slowly unraveled the long, linen bindings, pushing away her hands as she reached to help him. "No," he said, his voice full of promise and possessiveness, "you are my gift. I shall unwrap you. — Sarah MacLean

So is there any reason we're still on the mortal plane instead of back at your place fucking like wild animals?"
"Why wait? I didn't come dressed like this for nothing. And I don't see anyone around." She tossed him a coy smile.
"Evil witch," he growled.
"No, this is evil." Pushing away from him, she turned and bent over with her hands braced on her thighs. She peered at him over her shoulder.
The smoldering look on his face made her heart race. "You naughty, naughty witch. What am I going to do with you?"
"Fuck me?"
"Definitely."
"Make me cum?"
"Goes without saying."
"Love me?"
"Forever and ever. — Eve Langlais

You need to learn how to forgive.
Ronnie was angery at herself for pushing everyone that loved her away. the theme of this book is to let everyone have a second chance. as Ronnie had learnt this by the end of the story and forgave herself and others including her father and Will. — Nicholas Sparks

It's a good thing you're an aging orphan," he murmured, gently pushing the hair away from her face. "I don't have to wait around to get anyone's permission."
"Permission for what, you rat bastard?" she said.
"Such language, dragon. I'm afraid you're going to have to marry me. — Anne Stuart

We get to come back," Aelin said, pushing her hand harder and harder into her wound until the blood stopped, until it was only her tears that flowed. "Dorian, we get to come back from this loss - from this darkness. We get to come back, and I came back for you."
She was weeping now, weeping as that wind faded away and her wound knitted closed.
The prince's daggers had gone slack in his hands.
And on his finger, Athril's golden ring glowed.
"Fight it," she panted. The sun angled closer. "Fight it. We get to come back. — Sarah J. Maas

This is very simple in the world of chicks: some are hoochies, some are not, and some should never try to be. It's no different from the idea of sports. Now, I can go on my little rowing machine for four times a week, twenty-two minutes a time, and I can feel as if I flirt with the sporting world. Similar to the idea that a woman can put on something cuter for her man, for those moments, and flirt with garments that a hoochie woman might be pushing. But never for one moment should you get confused. My little rowing machine and I cannot consider ourselves athletes. Wearing the same garment does not a hoochie woman make. So if you are a true hoochie woman, may garments below the navel always be in your future. If you are not, then please don't throw away your cotton zippy jacket. — Tori Amos

It was the yearning she related to. Shriver seemed to understand the specific human pain of wanting and pushing away at the same time. It left her with a gorgeous ache, and when she turned the last page of the book and closed the cover, Norah's connection to the writer felt absolute. It was a breathless, consuming rapture.... — Ellen Meister

I want to know who killed my father," Peter growled, shrugging off her fingers and pushing himself away from the wall to stand up straight. "If you think you can help me with that, then you are welcome to try. — Deborah Blake

And she swung the old oar at him with all her strength.
It hit with a great thwack, splintering in two, and he went over the side, into the dark, cold waters of the lake, sinking like a stone.
It took her two seconds. And then she let out a scream for help, tossing the broken oar away from her, and jumped into the water after him.
It was very cold, numbingly so, and as it closed over her head she grabbed for
him, wrapping her arms around his body, ready to sink to the bottom with him.
Instead he kicked, pushing them up so that they broke the surface, his arm
clamped around hers as she struggled. "Jesus, woman!" he snapped. "When did we have to become Romeo and Juliet? — Anne Stuart

Instead of turning our heads from pain, we merge with it, neither holding on to it nor pushing it away, becoming instead an instrument of transformation. Recently, on my early morning drive to a health club, I saw a deer in the middle lane, trying to get up, but obviously crippled. Her eyes looked confused and frightened. As I drove by, I breathed in her pain and breathed out a blessing. I could feel a dark cloud swirling inside of me, but I also had an image of a deer running freely in the woods. I can never know if it helped her, but something loosened inside of me. Instead of turning away from her pain, I joined her. It was then I realized more deeply the power of Tonglin...

When you feel hurt, confused, lonely, or sad, breathe into your pain, feel it, be with it, then breathe out an image of clarity, light, and a blessing. This alone will start to change your life. — Charlotte Kasl

I pressed forward, pushing my body along hers, and wrapped my arms around her waist. Some of the intensity of my anger dissipated and drained away. After a very long, steamy kiss, I broke away, breathing hard.
Rimmel's head collapsed against the wall and she stared up at me with unfocused hazel eyes. The flecks of color in the center were green today. "Romeo," she gasped.
I pulled back enough so I could lift her arm and grasp her fingers. She made a sound of protest when I pushed back the material of the shirt once more and stared down at the dark blotches marring her skin.
"How were you going to explain this to me?" I rumbled.
"I wasn't going to lie, it that's what you're implying," she snapped.
"Ah, baby." I groaned and lifted her wrist to press my lips to the marks. "I'm being a jerk."
"You said it ... " She agreed, letting the rest of her sentence fall away.
I smiled against her skin and then kissed her inner wrist once more. — Cambria Hebert

Pushing her away was about as easy as trying to stop high tide with a spoon. — Ruth Cardello

No new beginnings.
Damn it, it shouldn't bother her!
But it did. She tried to turn away, but his hand flashed out and caught her by the chin.
"Let me go," she snapped.
"Nay." His grip was implacable on her jaw.
There was little point in fighting for control of her face; he could have hoisted her into the air with that one big hand on her jaw, if he'd wished.
He searched her gaze a long silent moment. "You truly doona ken it, do you? Excepting with you, Jessica. You, lass, are the exception to everything," he said softly.
As if he'd not just knocked the breath out of her with those words and left her feeling weak-kneed, he released her chin, turned away, and began pushing the cart again. — Karen Marie Moning

Thank God Ben had been there to wake her.
But then, when hadn't he been there? It was she that kept pushing him away. Even as a kid, before his adoration of her had turned into a full-blown crush, she'd kept him at arm's length. — Joe DeRouen

Do you see that patch of blue in the sky, fighting to be seen through the clouds?"

"Yes." She nodded, but her brows were scrunched in obvious confusion as to what his point would be.

"That was my life when I met you. After Mellie died, my life was a constant rainy day. I couldn't imagine the sun ever shining again. Then I met you, and the dark clouds started to drift away. I could see blue skies again and they were pushing out the clouds. As I got to know you, there were more blue skies and sunshine in my life. — Leah Atwood

Could you just ask? I know we used to hate each other but I've come to think I might like you quite a lot. Any chance you like me, at all? Gods, it sounded absurd. All her life she'd been pushing folk away, she had no idea where to start at pulling one in. What if he looked at her as if she was mad? The thought yawned like a pit at her feet. What do you mean, like? Like, like like? Should she just take hold of him and kiss him? She kept thinking about it. She hardly thought about anything else any more. — Joe Abercrombie

You can't keep pushing everyone away." She stood up from the chair, her body tense. "You can't keep doing this, because one of these days, you'll wake up and have no one. — Rebecca Donovan

Hatred ... When it comes to men and sex, David, nothing surprises me any more. Maybe, for men, hating the woman makes sex more exciting. You are a man, you ought to know. When you have sex with someone strange - when you trap her, hold her down, get her under you, put all your weight on her - isn't it a killing? Pushing the knife in; exiting afterwards, leaving the body behind covered in blood - doesn't it feel like murder, like getting away with murder? — J.M. Coetzee

I am ready to depart," Ken'ichi agreed, pushing away from the counter. Elke rolled her eyes at him, then looked at Cyn.
"What he meant to say was, 'Hell, yeah, let's go fuck up a geek! — D.B. Reynolds